Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I lifted open the dumpster, my mouth practically salivating at the idea of the treasures I would find inside.

Treasures I found indeed. It wasn't a full dumpster but that didn't matter, some of the best gunk you can find is at the bottom of dumpsters–which was what I was searching for now. I used a piece of cardboard to scoop up the goo into a plastic bottle I found on the side of the road. The soda from that bottle had been delicious even if it was flat. Finding still fizzy soda was a rarity.

Last week I had spent time scraping gum off the bottom of tables at diners to gather a lunchbox jammed full of them. Running away from the angry employees of the diners had been good exercise. I'd also gathered a couple of glue bottles from a school when it was closed. I even found a rusty pipe left abandoned behind that same school. Feel sorry for the chump who lost that beauty.

People left such nice stuff lying around, mine for the taking.

Now, with the addition of the mystery goo, I had all the ingredients I needed for my first project.

I began climbing out of the dumpster before looking down at the remaining trash. No reason to leave the rest of this in here all on its lonesome. I gathered the various scraps from the dumpster into my backpack. By the time I was finished, it was bursting at the seams with the weight of my haul. Heading home now was necessary, as much as it pained me to leave.

This area was gang territory. Not sure what their name was, small-time thugs, probably. But I'd seen the tags. It'd be stupid to not notice stuff like that. Living in Brocton Bay, you quickly learn where to go, and where to avoid. Sparse gang tags meant you were probably fine. (Not even sure there's anywhere without tags in the city.) Dense tags meant someone was frequenting here. You better check which were the most fresh, or face the consequences.

Being white meant I could go to Empire territory, if it weren't for my shoddy clothes. Since I was a girl, I needed to avoid ABB territory, especially at night. Coil's territory didn't have too many stigmas about it, but the ABB were often trying to claim it. You could expect laser filled battlefields at random times.

There were some other smaller gangs around, most paled in comparison to the powered gangs. My home was in gang territory. I'd heard gunshots on my own street once or twice. People here tended to keep their head down.

My appearance was like most around here. Dirty, poor, and hiding from the world. I was wearing heavy, baggy clothes to stop the cold March air and to stop cuts from broken glass.

Walk with purpose. Keep your head down. Pay no attention to what anyone was doing but keep an eye out.

People didn't bother you if you looked like you belonged.

It might be tempting to rob me for my backpack. Most were too busy snoozing to notice me. Criminals were night owls, coming out closer to midnight than the current seven PM. In case someone was foolish enough to try to steal my bag of treasures, I had a crowbar hidden in my baggy sleeves. Dropping it down and into my hand was a well practiced motion. I'd practiced it because it looked cool. The practicality of it didn't hurt.

There was no such thing as too careful, even if I hadn't been bothered in the five trips I'd made over the past week. People tended to keep to their own in this part of town. A few of them might have even recognised me. It wasn't like I lived that far away. We probably went to the same stores.

I made it home to my mom's apartment safely. She was watching TV. More accurately, asleep in front of it, glass pipe slipping out of her hand. Frank was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, lounging like a king in his throne. He took a hit from whatever it was he was smoking and glanced over at me.

"You smell like shit." His voice was more nicotine than human.

"Okay."

He glared at me for a tense second. I squeezed the backpack straps tighter. Keeping my eyes staring down at the floor was the best way to avoid him saying more. He grunted and returned his gaze to the screen.

I held in my sigh of relief, rushing quickly to my room, my sanctum. We made it. I slumped against the door, the sounds of the rest of the apartment fading away, muffled behind my wooden protector. Foam layered the door, a personal addition. A few hours with a box cutter made it lumpy, and according to my power, that meant it muffled sound.

That's right, my power. I was a cape.

I'm not even sure how it happened. After failing to run away I was dragged back here. The next day I woke up and my room felt good. I saw the worth of every trash bag, every box, every single piece of garbage that was my home. No longer did it feel like an unconquerable mess. It felt like a good start.

Readying to be a hero was busy work. My power meant my form of heroing involved devices. Creations that I made, stuff out of science-fiction.

There was no limit to what I could create. The ideas were raring to flow, clawing at the back of my brain.

Inspiration was needed for the final puzzle piece. As I gathered stuff over the past few weeks, a few of them came forward. They were much too complicated to do with what I currently had. Then, finally I had a simple—and possible—idea a couple of days ago after realising there was free gum on the bottom of tables.

My current haul spilled out onto my bed. Stragglers were shook out of the folds with a little force. Splitting it off into sections for later organisation took only a moment. The banana peel, salt packets, and mystery gunk joined the already laid out tub of glue (formerly a tub of vaseline), and lunchbox full of bubblegum.

Alongside that, I had a pot ready with a hot plate to provide heat.

Ready to create.

Hot plate plugged in. Check.

Water from some bottles I filled at the park fountain. Check.

Several healthy chunks of gum. Check.

A whole banana peel. Checkerino.

A dash of salt. Yep.

And our honoured guest mystery gunk from the bottom of a dumpster.

I brought the whole thing to a boil while mixing it slowly. Ocassionally my power would give me a little ping, and I'd grab something nearby to add to it. Though I wasn't really sure what was added, I didn't pay attention. Some kind of powder. A paste of sorts. It didn't really matter.

Turbo Focus Mode was what I called this state. My brain sort of forgot about everything else, even the passage of time. Forgetting to eat, drink, use the bathroom; all possible with the power of Turbo-Focus Mode!

Usually I'd lay out food beforehand allowing me to grab it while I worked. This time it was half a burger I found in the trash behind a fast food place. It was wrapped up nicely, so no beetles or rats had even gotten into it. Not that I minded sharing too much.

Oh, mystery gunk. Teach me your secrets. I hummed a small song as I stirred.

Yawning, I stretched my arms up over my head. Pleasant smells wafted into my nose from the brewing pot. My creation was a big glop of pinkish white stuff. To be more accurate: it was a highly adhesive glue that could stick to basically anything it touched. It had a small amount of elasticity before it'd start to fight back. I was confident it could hold down a person if I glued them to the floor.

While it was rendering in the boiling water, it wouldn't stick to the pot. The moment I stopped the boil—which I needed to do soon—it'd stick happily and never be removed.

Fortunately, I knew the secret to coax it out of its shell. You needed to be sweet to it.

Grabbing a wooden spoon off my wood pile, I coated it with a packet of sugar. Scooping out a chunk of the stuff (I really needed a name for it), I moved slowly so as not to spill, pouring it into a small plastic bag. It slid off the spoon like it wasn't there, then glopped onto the plastic. A speckle of it splashed the wall. Tying it up with a knot kept it secure in the bag. Nice and snug.

I turned the plate off, letting the rest settle in the pot. It'd retain for long enough that I could figure out how to store it before it went 'bad'. Should be about five weeks.

Prodding the wall glue with a stick, I found it kept ahold of it with ease, keeping it basically straight. Could be a good hat rack. There were hats around here somewhere.

For now, I had no delivery method for my super glue. I'm pretty sure if I threw one of these bags hard enough to reach someone, it'd rip open in the air, sending glue flying in every direction. Then we'd all be in trouble.

The top ranking idea was to make gloves that leaked glucose—which is sugar apparently—so that I could dip my hand into a bag and slick it onto whatever person or object I needed. Which I wasn't sure how to do right now. Silver medal idea goes to: pouring packets of sugar onto a glove before I scooped some out.

Then it hit me. Well, my power told me. Gelatin. Boiling down gummy sweets could make gelatin molds to pour the forever-stuck glue (bad name I'll work on it) into. Then those could be thrown like a paintball. They'd split the outer layer pretty easily by contact, but not by flying through the air. On ocassion they'd break apart while flying through the air, but I wasn't working miracles here.

Shouldn't even be too hard. Most of it could be done by hand. I just needed gummy candy. This current pot setup would work to melt it down.

Any time I did find candy, I liked to eat it right away. People didn't throw it away much, making it was a rare treat. Chocolate was more common but usually was claimed by ants.

After that; I could find ways to propel stuff quickly without using my arm. Leaving me with high-velocity delivered sticky glue bullets. Crime should weep at the potential. A sling shot would probably work best.

Gummy sweets, shouldn't be too hard. Should be simple to check out the nicer parts of town to find some rich kid who threw away something so precious.

I could do with a weapon. Just in case.

After grabbing nearby parts, I set to work.

Its core was a broken baseball bat, snapped off roughly halfway up. I added hinges, pipe cleaners, wires, parts of a toaster, and a circuitry thingy. A light switch was used for the trigger.

It looked like a wooden bat with wires coiling around it, up until about halfway where it swapped to a flatter metal surface that ended in two prongs. That part was from the side of a toaster I had already dismantled. The grill part of the toaster was laid on top of it to spread out the damage some. Also, it looked cool.

Circuit boards were encased inside small plastic containers to stop them from getting wet. Metal strips spread out of them to wrap around the bat and deliver their charges to the wires. Pipe cleaners were wound around it. They served the same purpose as the wires, the metal inside being conductive. Mostly, I thought it looked nicer with them added.

Flicking the switch, I felt it hum to life, ready to protect. I flicked it off. Better to reserve the power for when it's needed. Watch batteries generated most of the power. There weren't too many left in my hoard. Mentally, I noted swapping out that system for something else later.

She was christened Bobo, the Blectrictifying, and she was beautiful. Wait, no, Coco, the Blectrictifying!

That night I slept great, clutching onto my new protection.

Brockton Bay's 'rich' part of town was way too clean. Wearing nicer clothes to blend in ended up being useless. Even my best clothes were dirty compared to how pristine the people and the buildings were. Plus, it sort of sucked. There weren't any cool random things to find on the ground. How did these people live without having a cardboard box float to greet them? There weren't even that many gang tags. Weird.

On the upside, treasure was delegated to its metal prisons, never straying too far out. Stores also hid their dumpsters from prying eyes. Meaning, I could dive in peace. Relative peace. I fast learnt that people semi-frequently came out of the store to throw stuff away. A boy, not much older than me, yelled at me when he saw I was back there. Running from him wasn't hard.

After that, I made sure to be patient. Hiding from sight and waiting before diving in. It was painful sitting around while it was all just within tantalising reach. Oppurtunity struck whenever an employee threw things away and returned indoors. It even meant I got more for my pile. Fresh stuff too. Patience rewarded me with juicy goods and I still hated it.

My disappointment climbed with every dumpster I checked. Sure, my bag was quite literally overflowing with goods. I had to start being selective with each trip—as much as it pained me—simply because I couldn't carry it all. But I was here for a reason; gummy stuff. I needed gelatin... Wait.

Collagen can be rendered into gelatin and gelatin is used in a lot of products. Collagen can be found in cartilage.

There were plenty of bones in my hoard. Restaurant dumpsters contained them all the time.

Marshmallows can also be used for similar purposes.

Ideas of what I could use it all for buzzed around my head.

A healing paste came to mind. Which I was pretty sure I'd need. If not for myself, then for the people I saved. Marshmallows were all I needed to make it, aside from a few additions I already had in stock.

Collagen could eve be used to make a mouldable armour, which would make a nice undercoat for my costume.

Even the bones could be used. Good for projectiles. No, wait, way too deadly. Splinters and shards. Could be good for tools if I can figure out how to make it into an alloy. I'd need a way to melt metals. A forge, maybe? An idea flashed to me on how to make one, requiring a lot of rubble. Shouldn't be too hard to find, even if I didn't really know of any destroyed buildings.

My backpack was heavy with loot. There was no way I was carrying it around on my back anymore. It left its resting place of leaning against the dumpster I was enjoying the company of, and was scooped up into my arms. Waddling home was all I was capable of with how fat it'd gotten.

Making marshmallow healing paste sounded fun to me. The idea of a huge, muscled dude having a pink sparkly paste smeared into an open wound made me giggle. Candy scar tissue. Based on the design in my head, I think the healing process should leave minimal scarring if its allowed to stay in the wound the entire time. A person's body should naturally break down the sugars to use for whatever bodies used sugar for. Any waste would be pushed out of the wound as it healed. Definitely need some way to keep it in in the wound. Maybe duct tape?

I heard hushed voices in the alleyway ahead of me. A panicked sounding woman responded to them. Glancing down it, I could see two men holding a woman at knife point. She was emptying her purse onto the ground. One of the men held his hand up against the wall near her, a knife in his other hand, loosely pointed in her direction. The other guy was snatching up her things and shoving them into a bag of his own. His knife was on the floor to the side.

Wall-leaning guy sounded casual, like talking to a neighbour. From this distance their conversation was muffled. The woman was fairly quiet, only responding on occasion in short answers. I needed to act fast; floor guy was almost finished gathering her things.

There was a flag in my backpack, a chunk of it missing as if it was ripped off. Not sure what country it belonged to, just a cool rainbow.

Fashioning it into a makeshift mask took precious seconds. No idea what I looked like, but it covered my face well. After making sure it was secure, I unhooked Coco from a strap on the side of my bag. She practically purred in my hand as I flicked her switch. A nearby trash can lid became my shield.

Coco's eagerness spurred me on. My feet pounded down the alleyway, moving as fast as I could, while I held Coco's flat metal head out like a spear.

Ground guy reacted to my footsteps, looking up towards me. Wall guy noticed his friend turning and began to turn himself. Too late.

Coco slammed into the side of his body. A thrum of energy rolled out of her. Wall guy's muscles tensed up. He smacked my bat away with his hands then toppled over to the other side of the alley. Floor guy—Mr Snatchy Hands—stumbled as Wall Guy fell over him.

Nausea. Muscle spasms, then a heavy wave of vertigo. The Blectrifying lived up to her namesake.  An electric shock before feeling like the world was spinning.

Wall guy was shoved off his friend, sliding down against the brick wall. Sick exploded out of his mouth. His feeble attempts to stop it didn't help. He curled up into the fetal position.

Floor guy pushed off the ground as he bolted to his feet. His knife was still on the ground. He swung a momentum-charged punch towards me, my shield barely raised in time to block it. A mighty 'gong' sounded out as his fist collided.

The force of it sent me tumbling backwards. He was much taller, and easily double my weight. Stupid tiny me paled at his strength.

As I tried to find my feet he kicked me in the stomach, hard. I made an undignified 'BLEGH' noise as I was sent skidding across the asphalt. Scrapes let themselves be know by stinging. My stomach felt like, well, like a full grown man had kicked me in it. Footsteps rapidly approaching told me worse was to come.

I rolled sideways, my whole body protesting as I flung myself away. A nearby dumpster was a convenient handhold, letting me pull myself up. Blood rushed to my head, causing the world to turn blurry. I lashed out towards the man with Coco. Nothing but air.

"Fuck!" He swore. At least it was close enough. Thumming heartbeats pounded in my ears.

I repositioned, grabbing my bat in both hands and backing away. Wary of my weapon, he inched backwards. Behind him, his friend was climbing to his feet, using the wall for support. No woman past them, good. She'd been saved, at least.

The man started backing up step by step. His eyes darted to the floor, then back to me as he inched his way towards his knife. Should I rush him? I didn't feel like getting kicked again. My bag was still at the entrance to the alley. Too much time required to get there and make something.

"Jay, you a'ight man?" Floor guy asked his friend, his eyes mostly on me and the floor still.

Wall guy, or Jay, muttered something, still clutching his stomach as he pulled himself up. Floor guy nodded, hearing words I didn't. Jay finished pulling himself up as the floor guy reached his knife. He bent down, grabbing for it blindly, eyes locked with mine.

"What say we teach this freak a lesson, huh?" Floor guy asked as he stood up, knife now in hand.

"My fuckin' head is woozy, man. Don't know if I can do much," his once casual tone was strained, worried. Serves the fucker right.

Floor guy looked to Jay. He saw a man whose eyes were locked forward, a hand clutching his stomach. Some sick was still around his mouth and was rapidly drying on his shirt. He looked pale, too. Coco must be a bitch to be on the receiving end of if the fight was taken out of him this completely.

Floor guy clicked his tongue. Returning his attention to me. With his knife pointed towards me, he shuffled over to his friend, hooking an arm under his elbow. They began to hobble back through the alley, facing me, making sure I didn't move. Should I move? One hand was currently occupied, the other held a weapon that could kill me without trying.

Was I fast enough to get to him before he could free his arm? Probably not. I wasn't a runner and was fairly short. I wondered what Coco would do if I hit her in to the metal of his knife. Would it travel through? Metal is conductive to electricity, I'm not sure if it would be a strong enough shock to disarm him. Her electric powers were a byproduct of the way she induced nausea. Still awesome, but not strong.

The woman was gone. She was safe now. Rushing these guys would mostly be putting me in danger. Issue is, they'd do this in the future. I needed to arrest them. Fuck. I didn't even have any zip ties on me. NOTE TO SELF: ALWAYS KEEP ZIP TIES ON YOU. There was a bag of the glue I had made in my backpack. I bought it with me because I was proud of it, but it could be useful to bind these guys.

Decision made, I rushed forward. They were edging closer to the end of the alley, almost breaching the exit. My sudden start must have caught the floor guy off-guard because he had to shove Jay off him to free up his arm in time. I arrived just before his friend was free.

The knife whistled as it lashed out. A dead stop saved it from reaching me. As it was nearing the end of the swing I lunged out with Coco. Floor guy leant backwards, falling down onto his butt to get out of the way. I kept the lunge going, pushing my body weight into it so I fell down towards him, Coco at the ready.

She impacted into his stomach, power surging out of her into his whole body. He let out an 'oof' and started to clench up. The knife arm that was swinging back up to me failed to move as his muscles contracted. He didn't drop the knife, his grip just getting tighter. Huh, thought he'd drop it. Vomit exploded out of his mouth, splattering on to my face.

My lunge was with my whole body weight, and the rest of me was catching up to it. I fell onto the aptly named floor guy. Even if I was small, my whole body colliding into the guy took the wind out of him. Scrambling off, I rolled to the side to make some distance, leading into a run that was practically on all fours.

I patted myself down, checking for any knife wounds. None, phew. Jay was gripping his knife, not pointing towards me, and holding his head.

"Drop it, or Coco gets to visit you again," I said, patting the bat for emphasis. Moments passed as he thought it through. Relenting, he dropped the knife to the ground and kicked it over to me. Then he laid down on the floor, seemingly thankful for his head no longer being in motion, and put his arms behind his back.

Holy shit! Arresting first, excitement later. I rushed back to my backpack and retrieved the sack of glue as well as the sugar packets.

Neither man had moved much by the time I returned. Jay was telling the floor guy to lie still; it helped with the pain.

Sugar coated my hand, letting me scoop out sticky goo from the bag. Jay's waiting wrists received a healthy dollop, making sure to smear it so it coated both his wrists all the way around, binding them together. My non-coated hand pulled at his elbows. Even with my best tug, his arms didn't budge from the glue encasing them. Glue was also stuck to his shirt. Even if he removed it, his wrists would be well and truly stuck.

Satisfied, I moved on to the floor guy who was still rolling around. He didn't put up much of a fight as I positioned his wrists and did the same as before.

Coco was turned off now that I was safe. Her batteries must have been close to out, anyway.

Cool. Now what?

Victim saved. Bad guys tied up. Shit, I needed to call someone to actually pick them up. Phones were expensive.  Shit. Fuck, my stomach hurts, too. Breathing became harder as my adrenaline faded.

I peeked out of the alleyway. The woman that was being robbed was walking back with a cop. He glared at me as the woman waved to me. I nodded. A quick look back to my prisoners assured me they were still tied up. I left to meet the woman and the cop.

Mascara had run down her cheeks, and her hair was a mess with bits of gravel in it, but I could tell she was fairly pretty. Her clothes definitely meant she lived around here, too nice for my neighbourhood. She was maybe about twenty years old? Judging ages wasn't my strong suit.

Cop guy was tall, imposing. His dark skin amplified his intense glare that didn't seem to falter. Confidence. Be confident. Clutching Coco tighter helped steady my nerves.

I gestured to the alley. A short cough to clear my throat. "Two low-lives all tied up and ready for you. Don't know when the vertigo will wear off, so I suggest we move," my voice was steady despite how much I wanted to wheeze from my stomach pains.

He held a hand up to me, his other hand reaching for a stun gun. "Unknown parahuman. I'm requesting that you put some distance between us. I don't want to fight you, and would appreciate if you stayed back," he said in a rehearsed tone.

"Uh, sure, okay. I can do that." I backed up, free hand raised to show I meant no harm. Wasn't exactly how I imagined this interaction going. I stepped off to the side to let him past. His face cringed as he sniffed the air. He glanced towards me but carried on walking. Didn't think those guys smelt that bad. There wasn't exactly time to sniff them during our fight.

"Hello, you saved me. Could you tell me your name?" The woman spoke in a gentle tone. She kept a short distance from me, using her arms hugging herself. Fear was still plastered on her face.

"M-" I stopped myself. Can't use your real name, dumbass. "I don't, uh, actually have a name yet. I was still, y'know, working on that. I just sorta... stumbled into.. y'know."

Fuck, I was bad at this. What happened to the confidence I had before? I was doing so well then.

"Oh. Well, thank you anyway," she said, giving me a soft smile. "He was saying some horrible stuff to me. Saying if I ever told anyone he was going to hunt me down. They had my ID, I hope they didn't get to look at it." A wave of worry washed over her. She licked her lips and I could see tears forming in her eyes. What was I supposed to do here?

She needed confident me, not this. I stood up straighter, ignoring my ribs crying out. After repositioning Coco towards the ground, I took a few steps forward.

"Hey. It's alright, I'm sure the police will offer you protection if you need it, and I'm just getting started. By the time they're out of jail, which I think will be a few years, I'll be even stronger." I swung Coco up over my shoulder, letting her rest there. "This little cutie is just the start. I'll be making even cooler things by then," I said. Apologise to Coco later, she's plenty cool as is. "So, if they do come after you, I'll be there at your call."

She wiped at her face with her sleeves, smudging her makeup even more. "Thanks, I, uh," her nose twitched with disgust before her face returned to neutral. "How old are you? If you don't mind me asking."

"Um." Adults didn't take me seriously most of the time. They'd tell me I was too young to get it. Whatever 'it' is. Fourteen was plenty mature. It's not like I was stupid or anything, my mom told me I was too smart for school. There were a few things I didn't know, but I could learn them in the future. Do I lie to her? No. Lying isn't what heroes do. "I'm fourteen, and already a super genius."

She blinked at me, her mouth slightly agape. A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "Okay. Sorry for prying, it's just that I'd expect you to be in school right about now." Before I could make up a lie she continued, "Good thing you weren't though. I won't snitch," she winked at me.

Mr. Cop Guy called us over and took our statements. His sleeve covered his nose as he spoke, making him muffled. The woman wasn't really reacting to any smell, so I wasn't sure what his deal was. I told him about sugar being able to remove the glue when he needed to.

After we were done, I said farewell and grabbed my backpack before heading home.

I did good today. Finding trouble wasn't even the plan. Imagine what I could do when I'm ready for trouble.

Coco had proven her worth. Her reward? New watch batteries, as fresh as I could find. An idea for a device that could measure the charge left in batteries I found flashed through my head. Useful.

I stored it away for later and headed home with my bag full of my haul and my head full of good thoughts.

Chapter Text

I was jubilant. A word I learnt from the back of a cereal box earlier today. It means incredibly, mega, super joyful!

Saving Tina, as I learnt her name was, made me feel so good. My ribs and aching joints would protest that point, but what did they know

When I was younger, my mom had a boyfriend who loved comic books. He'd read them to me sometimes when he was feeling okay. Most other times, he'd just talk to me about things he read online. Heroes and villains, fighting it out, an epic war between good and evil.

Near the end of the relationship, I'd always ask him about Brockton Bay's heroes. Miss Milita running around with an infinite arsenal was my favourite, at least until Vista came along. Now, with my power, I started to appreciate Armsmaster, Gallant, and Kid Win more. Being able to make cool robot suits, hoverboards, laser rifles, and other future-tech is rad. I was like them, I could make robots.

An exoskeleton could be made to enhance my strength, allowing me to pick up objects heavier than I could normally lift.

Woah. That'd be cool. It wouldn't stop any significant damage but it'd help if I was working with heavy stuff, like when I started to make my forge. Penciling down the idea I thought on my future.

Wards. I'd always wanted to be one. Thinking about me being with them on patrols, fighting crime, becoming their friends, it gave me goosebumps and butterflies in my stomach. Powers made it a real possibility. I had no idea how to approach them. Recognition. People being aware of me. That's what I needed.

Officer Faulmann, had asked me to get as much evidence as I could before calling the cops. Arresting a criminal wasn't enough, you needed to gather evidence or they'd walk away nine times out of ten. In the case with Tina, it had been pretty cut-and-dry. They still had a few of her things on them, alongside a bag full of her stuff. There'd also been a security camera that was angled towards the alleyway exit we had come out of. Maybe it caught my fight? That'd be cool to show to  the Wards.

I jotted down a few things I needed alongside the sketch for the exoskeleton. It looked like a roll cage that you saw on monster trucks. Red line would be sprayed across to make the pipes look cooler. Image was important for capes. They needed to be recognised.

My list ended up being:

• Name
• Costume
• MORE DEVICES
• Healing Paste
• Zip Ties
• Camera
• Police Scanner

Name and costume were the most important. Being able to heal people felt like it could be an issue I'd face soon. Maybe if I had it right now it'd help my stomach stop feeling like it was about to rip open.

The healing salve will not affect internal injuries without surgery. It will reduce external bruising, swelling, and act as a pain nullifier.

Oh. Good to know. Healing paste became a priority.

Sweat lined my back, making me have to peel myself off my bed. Normally, there wasn't this much sweat. Jolts of pain ran through me, and my breathing got a bit harder as I sat up. Standing up wasn't much harder than sitting up. I felt okay enough to walk, even if the room was spinning. Mind over matter.

As much as I loathed the idea of just buying them, I needed marshmallows something fierce. My loose change pile was getting pretty hefty. Mostly it was one cent coins, but I had a few dimes and quarters. I even had two dollar coins.

Walking to the store was an agonising, grueling process that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemies. Did I have enemies? Yes. Jay and Floor guy.

A whole bag of marshmallows was actually pretty cheap. They were the big kind, and a bag came with plenty. They were perfect for what I needed.

Losing my coins felt bad. Separating them felt like breaking up a family. Whoever gets them next might be able to give them a nice home. Did change feel bad when it wasn't in circulation?

With the good pot covered in omega-glue (still not a good name), I had to resort to the rustier pot.

Marshmallows and a ton of other stuff—including some random plants I found—were boiled down to a thick paste within an hour. My body didn't like me moving around a lot. Pain was my reward whenever I did so. Chemistry didn't require I run around gathering stuff too often. My power also kindly informed me of everything I needed before I sat down to work.

Mom came back at some point, she was yelling as I was letting the water cool. Some kind of argument with boyfriend-of-the-week, Frank. Wasn't my interest, I didn't bother listening.

I flipped through a comic book to distract myself as the marshmallow boiled. This one I'd read a few times. It was about a hero called Remindo, fresh out of the Wards, working his way up to the Triumvirate. This was issue two, and the last few pages were missing. The recap at the start gave me all the context I needed. Making up my own ending was more fun, anyway.

Before the pages cut off, he's in the middle of a fight against a villain called Laminate. Laminate had Remindo's love interest captured and at his mercy. A box of laminated air surrounding her like a shield. Beneath her; a cliff edge. When the bottom panel is removed, she'd fall to her death. Remindo is unable to do anything, afraid to get closer. Then it stops.

Usually, I liked to imagine she saves herself. She uses a nail file, hidden in her dress pocket, to saw away at the ropes binding her. Grabbing her shoe to use the secret spiked tip on the heel. As the hero and villain are monologuing, she smacks it against the wall leading back to safety of the ground. It shatters like a car window does when you use a metal point against it, and she escapes her cage.

As Laminate turns to her, surprised by the sound of his power failing, she expertly throws the heel into his face, gouging out his eye. With a few ninja moves, she takes him down easily in hand-to-hand. Turns out, she was a secret agent the entire time. A highly trained PRT officer who can stop parahumans as well as other parahumans could.

Afterwards she adopts a teenage girl called Meadow, and trains her to become a cool spy, too.

Last part is stupid, but whatever.

The water in the pot had cooled enough for me to start using the paste.

Lifting up my shirt, I saw a boot print across my stomach. It was a reddish-pink with horrible patches of yellow and purple around it. My left ribs had swollen up a lot. I prodded it. Pain flared through me and I hissed through gritted teeth. Fuck, that hurt.

I slathered the healing paste on to my stomach in heaping portions. Tingling sensations spread from the paste. My pain washed away, becoming a dull throb instead of a roaring ache. It even removed aches that had become background noise at that point.

Splodges of white and pink coated my skin, emitting a cool feeling that soaked right through to my bones. No sparkles, unfortunately. Glitter could be added, but finding that in big enough portions wasn't easy.

Scooping out the rest of the paste, I tied it into a plastic bag. It should last a long time without spoiling. Ants would probably devour it if they found it. My new hat rack was the perfect perch to suspend it above the ground. That worked on bears. Why not ants?

Pillows wheezed as I slumped back into them, enjoying the almost lack of pain with a contended sigh. Insulation foam sheets wrapped around me, I drifted off to sleep.

I slept like a baby.

Kid Trash? No. Trash Win? Eh. Wastemaster? Nah. Trashmaster? Sort of cool. How could I add Gallant to a name? I wasn't even sure what it meant. Maybe it would be better if I went for something more original.

Recycler? Maybe. Dragon? Taken, obviously. Hoard Queen? Nah. Garbage Woman? Seemed like an insult. Tinker Trash? Don't want people associating me with trailer trash.

Animal based? Opossums were cool. Bears were usually found digging through trash cans. So were raccoons.

Back slots for my devices would make it look like I had tons of babies on board like a mother opossum. Each device would require fur to fit the theme better, in that case.

Bears were big and scary. I wanted to be more approachable. They were at least fluffy and cute, despite their ability to smush you dead. Too much of a reputation as murder beasts for me to use, probably.

Raccoons could work well. They liked to gather stuff, were associated with trash, and were cute as hell. Cute wasn't exactly what I was aiming for. I wanted to be approachable. Safe, for civilians, but intimidating and scary, for bad guys. Parts of that would come with rep. Raccoons were also crafty little things, which fit me to a tee.

I sketched out a costume. A big furry raccoon suit with some inner-linings of metal to give armour capabilities. Way too bulky and cumbersome.

My next sketch was more like a knight. I copied the armour of a knight from an image book I had. Except I modified the helmet to have round, egg-shaped ears like a raccoon. Then, I added a tail; a big one. Spare things could be hidden inside of it for emergencies.

I gave the gauntlets (as the book called them, fancy word for metal gloves) claws, too. That'd be intimidating. I sketched the underlayers as well. Chain mail could be worn beneath the plate to protect my squishy innards. Beneath that I'd have some padded clothes, like a coat, an extra layer or two of pants and shirts. Then an extra layer of collagen based armour beneath all that. Even made of cheap materials, it should be pretty hard to get through it all with most weapons.

Raccoon Knight sounded sort of cool. I wondered if there was a word for a warrior who uses technology or something.

A semi-waterlogged dictionary in my book pile was my main way of learning new words. A lot of the words were way too long. Hard to sound them all out. Not being able to pronounce my own cape name would be embarrassing. I tossed it to the side. Something useable would show up in the future.

Raccoon Knight would work for now.

I cut up soda bottles into varying sizes of donut rings. Each was linked together with wire frame to look like a raccoon's tail. Small at the base, then big, almost bulbous, down the middle before tapering off near the end. With the way the wires ran through it, the tail could shift and move naturally as I did. Eventually I might be able to hook it up so it reacted to certain muscles moving on my body, or even give me rudimentary control over it entirely, like an actual tail. That'd be neat.

It's colour wasn't quite like a raccoon's tail yet. Paints solved the issue, even if I didn't have that many. By the time I was done, the paint job was haphazard at best. Spray paint was added to my imaginary shopping list to try to make it better. I stuffed some insulation foam into the tail to give it a bit of weight. It also let tufts of 'fur' poke out from the gaps.

A bucket would become my helmet. Most of it wasn't rusted over, a rare find. I was jubilant when I got it. Every other bucket had been rusted scrap. Still worth taking, just not as handy.

With slight modifications and additions, I turned the bucket into a workable helmet. It had a visor with a slit for my eyes that could be flipped up and down. Sunglass lenses were indented to sit above the visor. They could be flipped down with a button press. Moving them back up to my forehead required manual resetting. Never knew when you were gonna face a light based cape.

The ears were a bit wonky, but served their purpose. Looking in the mirror, I could see that I looked awesome. I was a knight. One wearing modern clothes, but I'm sure that'd be fixed when I made the rest of the suit. Dark brown hair stuck out at the bottom of the helmet. Flowing in whatever direction it wanted to. Unruly, it made me look sort of wild. Like a knight who survived on her wits in the wilderness. I flipped the visor up and found an issue. My face was pretty visible through it.

A person taller than me could look down and probably see my entire face. Easy solution. I grabbed some spare foam to pad the helmet. My head felt cosy inside of the foam, instead of the cold metal touching my skin.

A space around my mouth, and my eyes was kept free so I could still speak and see. Sound would be an issue, but my hearing would be damaged by someone hitting me on the head otherwise. Knocking on the helmet produced a dull thump, the sound mostly blocked out by the foam covering my ears.

I looked like Mouse Protector. Awesome!

A microphone can be added on the outside of the suit to feed audio into a speaker. Would also allow to pick up frequencies not usually heard by human ears. 

Nifty. Not sure I had that level of electronics here. My electronics pile was sparse, most of it currently being attached to Coco. It wasn't every day people threw electronics out. A toaster and a television I had scavenged were my major hauls. Getting the TV into the flat was a bitch.

Glasses can be modified to include extra vision capabilities, such as infrared. Can also be used to display information within own vision. The idea was handy, but again, not capable. My power loved to tease me with the stuff I couldn't possibly do yet.

Give me something simple! Nothing? Okay. I need a ranged capturing device.

A frisbee can be modified to act as a bola. A launcher can be made either using air compression or kinetic energy. 

That idea was doable.

I grabbed a frisbee in almost perfect condition. No idea why someone would throw this away. I cut it into three pieces, like a pizza. Threading together twine from a cat scratching post to make a decent rope took up most of the project time, and most of my day.

Once the twine was threaded, finishing the device wasn't hard. It took all of five minutes to add a slot for the rope and to glue it to each piece.

Brackets would unfold as the frisbee flew. Each bracket would separate from the other from the spinning momentum. Eventually, all that'd be left would be the rope, which was connected to each frisbee slice, and then joined in the middle in a big knot.

Weighted cotainers full of rocks would give each slice extra weight. I'd needed some screws for the brackets to let them rotate out when flying. Mostly, it was just taping stuff down.

I'd test these out later today. A light pole would work for a first target. Definitely worth getting the throwing motion down to not miss when I come across an actual criminal.

My glue pellets still needed a way to be fired. Elastic would be needed to make the sling shot. A surprising rarity. I knew pants and underwear had it. Usually, by the time they came into my court, the elastic was well worn out. I'll come back to it later.

Coco had her batteries replaced, and I wiped some vomit off her. In the future I would replace the watch battery system for something else. Way too cumbersome prying each battery out before replacing it. A device similar to a TV remote would work better.

I had an idea—just a regular idea, not a power based one—to start threading the soda can tabs together to make chain mail. They needed shaping a bit beforehand, which pliers could do just fine. My tab collection was too low to start right now. A few hundred wasn't enough.

Homeless people often gathered cans and bottles, I'd done it myself a few times for money. Would they be willing to part with just the tabs? I might need to pay them back.

Homeless people needed food. Healing paste was also a good thing to offer. If I did, I'd need to go out in costume, which might make them suspicious of me. Oh well, I'd earn their trust. Make a bit of a name for myself, too.

"Who're you supposed to be then?" The man asked me. He was older, salt and pepper beard, little hair. He had dark, leathery skin and lots of wrinkles. Layers and layers of clothes hung off him like a lasagna. Cans and bottles clinked against each other like wind chimes in the bag he was holding.

I bowed, shoving my nerves as far down as they could go. "Raccoon Knight. Patent pending." I gestured to his bag. "I'm in need of soda can tabs for a top secret project. I've gathered a few on my own, but it's a big task. In return for just the tabs off any cans you have, I can give you food and even some healing if you need it."

He rubbed his beard and looked up at the sky. "Just the tabs?"

"Just the tabs."

"What you need them for?"

"Top secret, I'm afraid. I'm sure when my awesome debut happens, you'll see them. You can point and say 'I helped make that!'" I tried to keep myself smiling, despite the helmet covering my mouth. You could hear smiling through words.

He hummed, tapping his chin. "What sort of food are you offering?"

I reached into my bag and pulled out a wrapped up sandwich. The bread had been repurposed from other sandwiches to make a whole two pieces. People didn't like it when their food had bite marks out of it. I didn't mind so much. It made the bread look patchwork. Still delicious. I'd filled it with plenty of meat and some greens. Greens didn't survive long in the trash so I had to get some fresh today.

"I have ham and chicken mostly. Some with mayo, some with ketchup, others without, and some with both. I also have lettuce in a few. Oh, and I have a special one with honey mustard which I was going to give to the first person who helped me. So long as they want it."

"Bread looks off. What type is it?"

"A mix of a few types, I think. It tastes good though, I promise." I retrieved my own sandwich from the bag and opened it up, taking a bite to prove it was tasty.

The man mulled it over some more. "I'll take a sandwich. You can have my tabs, too."

"YES!" I pumped my fist and wriggled my body with excitement. "Sorry. Thank you, I really appreciate it."

He received the honey mustard sandwich. I got to work removing the can tabs.

"What's your name, anyway?"

"Gerard. Most call me 'Rex', though." At my look he shrugged. "Don't even know how that one got started. Been called it for over fifteen years."

"Well, I can call you whatever. Princess Fluffybutt, if you want. No difference to me."

He chuckled a bit. "I hated the nickname originally. It's grown on me, as weeds tend to do. Rex is fine."

I nodded. "Been homeless long, Rex?"

He laughed loudly at that. Shit. Wrong thing to say? "Not the question I usually get right away. You are an odd one." He shook his head, tutting. "I've been homeless for a long time, yes. Hard to get a job when your hands don't work right." They shook as he lifted them up to show me. Scars ran across them in zig-zag patterns.

"Sorry. Don't think my healing paste can fix that." It can't fix internal damage, diseases, or viruses. I figured as much.

"I ain't expecting it too. You'd need Panacea for that, and I wouldn't trouble her with the effort." He paused. "I do have a gash on my leg if you wanna take a look."

I nodded, spinning around to see him properly. With his pant leg lifted I could see blood-soaked bandages. He removed them, showing a nasty cut. The edges were still swelled up. I untied the top of the bag attached to my belt and scooped a hand inside.

"Is it gonna sting?"

Would it? I had no idea. "No clue, to be honest." He let out a small chuckle, then nodded.

I carried on, smearing a large glob of paste across the wound. A shiver rolled through his body as it was applied. I smeared it in there as best I could, making sure it reached all the edges and covered the inflamed bits. I wound the bandage back on tight. "Should be good. Give it maybe a week or two before you remove the bandages. Make sure to clean up any of it that seeps out, or you'll get ants."

"Ants? What's this stuff made of?"

"Marshmallow, mostly."

He blinked at me before sighing. "Real odd duck. Well, if I see you again, I'll either be thanking you for this mystery balm, or shouting at you."

Balm. Nice word. "It should work. It fixed my bruises." I returned to collecting can tabs.

We had a few short more conversations, him mostly asking if I was a new Ward or not. He also told me to shower. I guess I was a bit sweaty from walking around town.

After I finished gathering the tabs, we parted ways. It was a raindrop in the bucket of what I needed. Progress is progress, though. Now to find more homeless people.

Gerard wasn't the exception. People were friendly to me. I had a few tell me to fuck off. I'd have been skeptical if I didn't. Almost everyone was nice though. They liked the food, and they appreciated the paste, even if most rejected it. A lot of people aren't a fan of unknown substances. The pain relief alone got me a couple of hugs, which was surprising; nice, though.

It worked okay on a woman's messed up tooth until it dissolved in her mouth. And it was made of sugar, most likely leading to future problems. She just shrugged, telling me that it was already fucked. I gave her a small supply of the stuff for pain relief.

By the end of the day, I was out of sandwiches and healing paste, while my bag was chock full of tabs. With the amount I gathered, I should be able to make a full shirt. One of the homeless people, Stacy, had actually been collecting them on her own. She had a decent amount. Neither of us felt good about splitting her from the collection, so we left it be. I gave her a sandwich, anyway.

Before heading home I tested out the frisbola by throwing it at a lamp in a park. It spread out in the air as it flew, metal brackets helping it expand before unlinking from each other. When the knot of the three ropes collided with the lamp, the frisbee wedges spun around, wrapping themselves around the post. It worked!

I untangled it—which was surprisingly hard—and started slotting the brackets back into each other. Manually resetting it each time was annoying, but not that bad. In the future I could make a few more, carrying around four or five at a time would let me use more without having to 'reload'.

After jingling my way home, I endured a thirty minute rant from my mom about Frank. Apparently he'd cheated on her. Again. Who could have predicted that? And she was going to throw him out once he sold off the last of his supply. More likely she'd listen to whatever bullshit he spun to her and take him back. Or he'd get sick of her yelling and just leave. Like everyone else.

I nodded along, letting her talk to me as much as she needed.

Once she had worn herself down, she gave me a quick hug, telling me I was such a good daughter. That she was gonna buy me something nice as a treat tomorrow, maybe a donut. I made noncomittal grunts in response and left for my room when I could.

She promised treats all the time. Then she'd get so high she forgot her own name. By tomorrow she'll have forgotten she even spoke to me. After the hundredth time of falling for it, I got the message.

I spent the last portion of the night threading together my chain mail. Seeing the suit take shape gave me hope that I was gonna look the coolest.

Chapter Text

Tonight, I was going to make a name for myself.

After a few nights preparing, my chain mail shirt was completed. Worn over the top of my winter coat, it looked incredibly cool. Already I felt like a true knight. I used elbow and knee pads from my hoard to give me some protection from scrapes. There was only one elbow pad, only my left arm got it's protection. It was my punching arm, my swinging arm, my right-hand (left-hand) gal.

Righty could throw just fine. A new toy strapped to the small of my back also featured a slot to hold my frisbola. The plastic bag containing the healing paste was at risk of bursting. Placing it into a tupperware container (the only one I had a lid for) was the smarter idea. A hidden pocket inside my coat kept it snug. Maybe it'd bump into me as I ran around? Not a big issue. Just extra emergency armour!

The 'Prisoner Containing Glue' (Nope, still bad.) was also being kept in a plastic bag. Unlike the paste, it was meant to explode in a pinch. So long as it didn't explode onto me.

There was a repair shop that had shoddy security in their garbage can. Breaking into it using random things I had in my backpack was child's play. For my efforts, I was rewarded with; a mess of frayed wires, a couple of fuses, an unknown games console without its shell, plugs, a pair of headphones without the foam, and a broken radio. That last one was the most important. Not that I didn't love the rest.

My electronics pile was looking mighty fine now.

Repairing the broken radio took no time at all. Prying stuff back into place, or replacing wires were the major fixes. A rig that attached around me like a belt kept it secure at the small of my back, covered up by the frisbola.

Everything I found was in a state of disrepair that anyone could fix, I wasn't sure why they threw it away. Especially since it was a repair shop. Like the rest of the stuff, the headphones werne't hard to fix. One side was cut away to leave me with a singular headphone which was fed underneath my helmet. The wire was a bit obvious, even with me hiding it underneath my shirt. Inside of the helmet I removed a portion of the foam to accomodate for the new addition. Squishing my ears between plastic and foam didn't sound enjoyable. The cut away foam could even replace the missing part of the headphone to make it softer on my ears!

With my project complete, I could listen to the radio as I patrolled.

Installing a microphone into the radio could pick up sounds around me and place them directly into my ear. Its range would be even better than my actual hearing. It's main use was a direct line into a police scanner.

Which, as it turns out; is complete nonsense. They used a lot of codes, none of which I understood.

Getting a library card required paperwork, renting a book or using their computers required a library card. An infinite cycle. Computers were a mystery to me, anyway.

My only option was learning through doing. Every time I heard a new code, I'd write it down in a little notebook. There were cute images, like stars or hearts, on each page. A special find. Using context clues to figure out what the codes meant was a mixed-bag. Hearing 'Ten-Sixty', then the words 'Suspicious vehicle last seen on so-and-so street,' probably meant that code was for suspicious vehicles. Others weren't given clarification after. Cops were just expected to know them. Or had a handy little code book ready made.

There was one I knew already. Ten-Four. Which I'm pretty sure is just 'Okay.' Seeing as every cop show ever uses it when they're responding to whatever they call the guy on the radio. Operator?

Cop shows were an excellent idea, actually. Good job me. Thanks me. A few are just dramatisations and wouldn't be the same in reality. There were shows that followed actual cops responding to real cases. They included radio chatter and then showed the actual crime itself, meaning I could link them.

After my mom left to do whatever moms did, I browsed the TV. We didn't have too many channels, making finding the right one easy. Watching them go around, helping people, it inspired me. I also learnt a few new codes. Like the one for a parahuman stopping criminals, and the one for potential parahuman at the site. The show was set in Denver. A few denverian capes showed up on occasion, which was nifty. Not very helpful, but nifty. Who knows, maybe in the future I'd get to work with them in some international case?

Video evidence would be needed to make most crimes stick. Cameras were hard to come by. Stopping a drug deal probably wouldn't do much good if they only had a small amount on them. Getting them off the streets even for a night could potentially save someone from their influence, though. I didn't know if it was worth it. I couldn't spread myself thin.

I wanted to help the cops. Parahumans didn't like working alongside them. I'd heard the cops on the show refer to the PRT as 'the sidekicks'. Neither side seemed to want any interaction with the other. Cops had training and required evidence. Capes came in, trained but not in the same way, with no regard to due process. The show had spoken about how most cape arrests lead to the criminal walking away. Similar to what Officer Faulmann told me about needing evidence.

Cops helped me with my dad. I didn't want them to hate me. Being the same old cape who blew in and expected them to do all the work wasn't appealing.

Patrolling around the city at sunset was sort of nice. A meandering path away from my house, gave me plenty of time to enjoy the oranges and purples the city was being cast in. Broken glass tinkling on the floor like star light. My radio chirped occasionally with background chatter. My helmet made things quieter, not quiet enough to not hear people talking near me. People gave me a few odd stares while keeping a respectable distance.

Huh. I thought people would climb all over capes on patrol. A lot of people around me had a good reason to distrust capes.

When the villains showed up alone, you could just keep your head down and try to stay out of their way. When the villains showed up fighting, you ran. You prayed and begged your home wasn't in their path of destruction, and got to safety.

When the heroes showed up, you ran harder. I'm sure they meant well. Cape fights just aren't clean. If heroes are roaming around your neighbourhood, they're looking for someone. Which means there's going to be a fight very soon. You got out, then surveyed the damage after.

Collateral damage was an afterthought. It wasn't like the people around here could afford cape insurance.

Shaking my head made the sour thoughts go away. A wary eye scanned the area around me to find potential crime.

After what felt like an eternity of my patrol, I heard a code that could potentially use my help. Ten-Fifty. Which, according to my notes, is a traffic accident. Usually there was an F, PI, or PD after, which wasn't here this time?

It wasn't far away.

There weren't any crashed cars by the time I arrived. There were officers surrounding what looked like a body in an area that was being taped off. What?

Pages fluttered as I flicked through them. Ten-Fifty was supposed to be a traffic accident. Shit. I need to get out of here. I backed up as quiet as a mouse, turning around at a casual pace to not draw attention. I sprinted the moment the cops line-of-sight was broken.

If anyone saw me, they might think I did it. Returning to the scene of the crime, that's what criminals did. I was an unknown cape with unknown motives. I knew my motives were good. That didn't mean others did.

Something was wrong. There wasn't a car there, when there should have been. Was I wrong about the code? I could have easily fucked it up, writing down the wrong number. Or maybe the show edited in the wrong codes so criminals couldn't guess them? No, that didn't make much sense.

Maybe it was like accents. Every state had a different set of codes. I'd listened to Denver codes and just assumed they'd apply here as well. I'd listened to a Denver accent and called it Boston. Idiot.

My confidence was shook. How do I carry on with the rest of the night if I couldn't trust any of the radio codes?

How did other heroes do this?

In comics, they'd always do patrols, roam around, and stumble across crime. They'd use some super hearing power or device to echolocated crime. Or an AI that could scan all radio signals and detect crime before it even happened. Could I create an AI?

No.    

Oh. Huh. Well, thanks power, can always trust you to get to the point.

Maybe I should talk to another hero, learn how they do things. Same issue as before. Where the fuck do you find anything?

Would roaming around let me run into crime? I knew some corners that drug dealers worked from. If I hid nearby, lying in wait, I could pounce and catch them in the act.

Eh. What's the point? They'd just walk free later, anyway. No self-respecting dealer would carry enough to be guaranteed a jail sentence. Plus, there'd be no evidence aside from what they carried.

Then there's the issue of it being one person, a small part of the machine. I'd seen the way they worked, heard it from the mouths of others in my neighbourhood. A dealer didn't carry that much on them, someone else would deliver it to them. Who had someone else to deliver it to them, and so on. The lower level guys didn't know much about the hand that fed them, or the hand that fed that hand.

Sure, it'd help in a way. It just wasn't enough. I wanted to help a specific person, not help some vague concept of a person that may or may not exist. Taking down Lung, that'd help people. I could imagine them all. Getting rid of one drug dealer, it'd maybe, potentially, possibly help someone. Then they'd be replaced the next day, and someone else's life would be ruined.

Ugh. Was it all pointless?

No. I couldn't think like this. Helping a single person was enough. Tina, Gerard, Stacy, the rest of the homeless people, I'd helped them. Tina kept her things because of me. The homeless got a sandwich, conversation, and healing. I healed people, eased their pain. That made me a hero, and that was all that mattered.

I sprinted back to my home turf; renewed. My power was designed to fix things, make them better. I knew exactly what to do!

There were tools in my bedroom. I slotted them into the little loops on my belt. Leaving the house without my helmet made me feel naked. My mom was home, and I didn't want her knowing. It wasn't long before I got to return it to my head.

For the rest of the night, I roamed around, finding any building that looked like people would be—or were currently—living there.

Fuse boxes were restored to working order. No one noticed me turning them off while I fixed them. None of the buildings had power before.

Pipes were an easy fix. Usually they just needed to be tightened or patched up. Going inside the buildings got me a few prying looks, or people straight up leaving. All but running away from me. Me! I'm a hero. They'd know my name, eventually.

No one bothered me while I worked. They kept a cautious distance. I was invading their homes without a word, after all. It was only expected.

Once I had done as much as I could for a building, I left for another. There were a lot of homeless people in makeshift communal living situations. Abandoned factories seemed to be a fan favourite.

After fixing up what I could in a couple of factory buildings, I found an office. Formerly abandoned, now occupied by a lot of dishelved outcasts of society. They'd setup hammocks, mattresses, sheets to act as doors; all stuff to make the place a bit more private and livable. It was sort of nice. If not a bit scary, being around some potentially dangerous people. No more dangerous than my dad, or my mom's boyfriend-of-the-week.

The building was only a few stories tall, basically a big, red-brick rectangle. Individual offices had been replaced with communal bedrooms. Mattresses and hammocks replaced whatever furniture was here before. There was a communal kitchen, still being used despite the building having no gas. They'd hooked the oven up to an external gas cylinder.

The toilets already had modifications. Where the individual booths were missing, they'd had shawls and blankets draped down to give privacy. One of the booths—nearest the sink—had been changed into a shower. A contraption was hooked up to the sink itself to let the water flow out of a shower head. I didn't see a drain added to the floor of the cubicle. Mould clung to the tiles of the improvised shower floor.

Two of the three sinks in here didn't work, and the shower sink's spare tap spat out a cloudy liquid. Eyes peered in through the doorless door frame, curious but keeping a safe distance. A few people warned others of a cape.

Once I got one of the non-working sinks back to a functional condition, my lookie-loos started talking.

"She fixed the sink!" One said, a smile spreading across his face.

Others came to look, as I got to work on the rest of them. Clear water ran out of the shower sink, and the pressure of the showerhead increased to give it a better flow. One sink remaining. No sinks remaining. I couldn't increase the final sink's pressure, so it was a weak flow. At least the water was clear.

Holstering my tools, I got up, and turned to see the few people watching had grown to a sizeable crowd. All of them started talking to me at once. They asked me to fix things; "do the sink in the kitchen," "do the same to the other bathroom," "fix the stove," fix so many things. I preened at the attention.

Within a couple of hours, I'd fixed what I could in the other bathroom, fixed up the sink in the kitchen, make a couple of bulbs start working again, double-checked the gas flow to the oven—it was partially loose, in a few weeks it could have lead to it leaking—, and rewired the fuse box. People were thankful. It felt good. No one really kept up a conversation with me, unfortunately. Which was odd, since the homeless from before were happy to chat. Individuals versus a crowd?

My power regarded the conditions of the appliances as junk, which let me fix them as if I was an expert. Ideas for new devices appeared in my head with each repair. Adding new additions to their home with no way to repair them was a bad idea. It had fallen to pieces brick by brick with no one really having the knowledge to fix it. An extra, unknown device wouldn't help that issue. A plumber lived here before—someone formerly from the DAU—but that guy had left a few months back, leaving no one with the knowledge to repair.

Teaching wasn't something I was capable of. My power was the one who had the knowledge, I was just doing what it told me and giving it inspiration for new things as they came to my brain.

As I headed home, exhausted, I thought through the ideas I'd had during the night.

First; was that my armour could be made pretty easily. It wouldn't be hard to shape the aluminum from trash cans, or corrugated sheets of metal that you saw on garage roofs. Layering them together could make sturdy armour. No need for heating or shaping, just cutting and slotting together. Cutting them would take a bit of effort, more than a handsaw and elbow grease could contribute. Cutting was the main hurdle, which brings me to...

Second; if I found a saw blade, I could make it into a power tool. An outlet would provide it power, but it wouldn't function for long. It would fall to pieces after getting through my breastplate. Making the same tool twice feels wrong, though I'm not sure why, so I'll find another tool the second time around. Maybe some kind of plasma cutter made from a welding torch?

Third; a scanning device. A sonar pulse would map the immediate area, like a bat. That information would be relayed into a two-dimensional image that could be displayed on my sunglasses if I ever set those up. Alternatively, I could maybe hook it up to one of my sensory glands, such as my eyes, ears, or nose. Allowing me to sense what it saw with that sense.

Surgery on that level was a bit beyond my power right now. I had the ideas, just not the know how. It was entirely possible for me to do it, and make it painless, clean, and replaceable. There was more information and tools needed to let me perform it.

Fourth; after unclogging one of the drains of a massive, wet clump of hair that seemed to go on forever (which was really cool), I was inspired to make a tangle-mine. It could be filled with hair, seaweed, or other threads to make something that could ensnare the wheels of a vehicle. A little setup would make it work like a landmine, or it could be thrown. Like a car airbag, it'd be relatively safe for human use, though I wouldn't risk it. One use only per mine.

Fifth; cleaning out a bunch of rotten food from the kitchen sink's pipes inspired me to make an incredibly potent stink. The type that sinks into everything it touches, like a skunk's spray. Gelatin casings would make them function as little stinkballs.

A blowgun could be made using just a piece of plastic pipe. I could add a mouthpiece if I wanted, though it wasn't necessary to function. My power wasn't needed for the design, just a piece of pipe.

Designs for a paintball gun appeared in my head. An ammo box could be made with a soda bottle, which would slot into a receptacle at the top of the pipe, feeding the stink or glue balls down into the pipe itself. A handle, trigger, and stock were pretty easy to make. Pulling the trigger would activate a pressurised air can, such as a deodorant, whipped cream, or spray cheese can.

Rapid fire was possible so long as the can retained its pressure. Should the can fail, the slot it fits into would be a modular slot, allowing me to remove the can and replace it with another like I would reload a gun. The ammo would be self-feeding, a camera's aperture could work well for that.

Knowing stuff I didn't before took getting used to. Walking around, if someone asked me how an airbag in a car works, I'd have no idea. Until I thought of an idea of a tangle-mine, and my power happily supplied the information needed. Telling me exactly how an airbag works, and how I could make my own version.

That information stayed with me. I didn't have perfect retention. It was like if an adult told you how the rain works. You'd need to hear it again a few more times before you really got it. A lot of the things mentioned by my power were pretty advanced stuff, things I hadn't even heard of. Context was provided alongside the information, I wasn't left in the dark about what it meant. The information flow would be simplified a bit for me to understand better, at least while I wasn't in Turbo-Focus mode. When I was in that the information flowed faster, clearer, I knew exactly what every single thing was and did.

Tonight had been a mixed bag. Like when you find a new dumpster, but it's already occupied by an angry opossum.

I'd seen a dead body. It wasn't my first.

No use thinking who they were, or how I could have helped. Thinking about that would just make me sad. I'd almost spiralled out after seeing them, half-convincing myself I'd be better off forgetting the whole hero thing. Police codes would need to be relearned through trial and error. Mostly error. I scrapped the pages I had, throwing them into the paper pile in my room.

Helping strangers in those factories and office building had been nice. Heroic. Even if none of them really knew who I was. Most were rightfully wary, keeping their distance, keeping their eyes peeled for what I was doing. A few had called people. I wasn't sure who, since no one showed up.

I was laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, the glow in the dark stars greeting me. I added a new constellation, Wrench, for the plumber. Keep the pipes clean, and the water flowing. Wrench, I believe in you.

Sleep was as easy as fixing a sink. Doing hard work all day meant I was ready to pass out the moment my head touched the pillow.

Tape peeled away from my shirt with a horrible noise. It was wrapped tight around me to keep my marshmallow healing paste secure. A few days had passed since repairing sinks, so it should have done it's job. Confidence flowed through me, certain that my creation would have succeeded.

Removing my shirt hurt. The balm, as Gerard called it, had crusted over, drying against the shirt. It peeled away from me as the shirt was removed. Globs of it fell down. Only the outer layer had hardened. The inner part was still a paste.

Faded bruising lined my stomach. The boot print was gone completely. My swelling had been reduced a significant amount, a little remained. I ran my hand over the skin. It was soft and very clean, like someone had removed layers of it but only on my stomach. My sides and chest were darker by a few shades. I picked at the edges and it flecked off. Just dirt. Oh. I was covered in a coating of grime.

It didn't bother me.

That might explain Gerard telling me to shower. Showering was something I liked doing. Even when the water ran cold after twenty minutes, I'd stay in the shower. A watery sanctum, away from the outside world. The outside world was all filth and messes. Bags of the stuff, cockroaches in my hair, needles lying around. That sort of stuff didn't bother me any more. I don't think I showered since I got my power.

May as well. Turns out I had a lot of dirt on me. Water ran brown as it flowed off me. Fixing up the pressure on the shower was a simple task. I also fixed the heating issue, so it'd run hot for a good forty minutes before running out.

Mom would yell at me if I spent too long in here. She hated when I wasted all the hot water. Just a quick shower, enough to clean most of myself, and wash stuff out of my hair. We had no shampoo, so I used some soap instead.

I could modify the flow of a shower head to be a high-pressure hose. It'd be capable of ripping flesh from bone with a steady enough stream.

Not helpful. Might be useful for fighting fires, though.

I dried myself off. Towels would make good bandages. Very absorbant. I gained an idea for using sanitation pads alongside my healing paste to keep it sealed in. Clean pads thrown away weren't a thing I'd ever found, just used ones. Those went into my blood pile; a tightly sealed box. Insects liked to eat blood, which would defeat the purpose of a blood pile. Insects were fine, now, so long as they didn't crawl on me. Too many unpleasant memories.

An insect repellant could be placed under my pillow. One version used sound to scare them away. Rodents would also be scared by it. The other would use chemicals, bathing me in them as I slept. Smelling like a hospital wasn't what I wanted. I didn't like chemical smells any more than I liked insects.

I grabbed some things from my stash and setup the insect repellant. The other half of the headphone I hadn't used in my costume found it's job. It hooked up to a black box—formerly a TV remote—which then connected to an outlet. There wasn't any sound when I turned it on. Double checking it showed that it should be working just fine. Shrugging, I went about my day.

Non-crusted paste from the shirt was returned to the area that still had swelling, then taped down. In a few days, the swelling should be gone completely. I smelt sweet. Very sugary. Even after showering, the skin on my stomach was a lot smoother than the rest. Maybe I could modify the formula to make it into a cleaning paste instead.

Technically, I could just use the current version of the paste to do the same thing. A modified cleaning version would be better at getting rid of harmful bacteria. It could also be used to clean my teeth safely, and have less sugar, fewer ants.

Today was a gathering day. The past three days were spent doing the same. Spreading out from my house to hit dumpsters I hadn't already. Now, I was heading towards Arcadia. A prestigious school full of rich kids, from what I knew. It looked like a nice place.

Chain link fences surrounded the hill it was perched upon. I had no delusions of being able to get inside unnoticed. Instead, my goal was to see what people threw away. During the day I'd scout out the school from a distance, using some binoculars to view what people were putting into the garbage.

At night, I'd sneak in and grab stuff before the janitor can remove the trash in the morning. Fool proof.

Students went about their days, viewed through my binocular eyes.

"Samantha. I'm telling you, there's no way you can use your powers in class. Mr. Bungus will notice your grades improving. He's not stupid."

"God, Riley, he won't notice. I'm a super genius, super model, and super strong. Mr. Bungus wouldn't notice my grades improving if I'm stealthy enough."

"You don't know how to be stealthy."

They weren't really having that conversation. I was just making up voices for them. My spying distance didn't let me hear their words. The two girls were arguing in a polite, muted way. No one seemed bothered by them despite their frantic arm waving. Both were taller than me by about a head. They had similar hair, maybe related?

A traffic cone could be fashioned into a listening device. I noted it down amongst my idle scribbling. Useful in the future, not needed right now.

Samantha and Riley eventually headed into the school. Everyone else joined them, leaving me staring at an empty school entrance.

Oh, right. Classes would start and students would go in to them. They'd come out again at recess, and lunch, I think. The school I went to had 'walk-around' time. You'd spend it like currency. Even in the middle of class, you could take off to walk around the school grounds. I used mine when the class was being too loud. Transfers from other places told me it was unusual. Not sure Arcadia would have it.

Temptation overtook me. Everyone was inside, even some security looking people had moved entirely indoors. I could scurry on over to the trash cans, grab my loot, and be out before anyone even knew I was around. Raccoons were excellent at heists. I threw my backpack over the chain link fence. Climbing over wasn't an issue, one of my specialities. I threw a towel on top to stop the metal spikes from hurting me.

Morning dew covered grass met me, muting my landing into a soft thud. Retrieving my backpack, I ran across the open field, avoiding class room windows when I could. Plenty of goodies were waiting for me. Candy, paper, wrappers, plastic bottles, cans, pens and pencils, erasers, and even the bottom half of a flip phone. All in fresh, excellent condition. I'll never understand how people can throw away half-eaten food.

You could have saved half of the chocolate bar for later instead of throwing it away. These chips had plenty left. Gummy bears, well, that one was in my favour so I'd let it slide.

I unwrapped one of the bars and sprinkled some crushed up chips on it. A nice snack as I continued to rummage through the other trash cans.

"Ew. What're you doing?" A voice behind me said. I craned my neck around, the chocolate bar still clenched in my teeth. She was beautiful. What I imagine a Greek goddess might look like. Platinum blonde hair cascaded down her head, tall, muscular. She was also floating a couple of inches off the ground.

"Uh. I- I was." My words caught in my throat. The chocolate fell into the garbage below me. She gave me a strange look. My heart was racing, my thoughts a blur.

"You need to come with me. Alright?" She floated towards me, a hand outstretched. "I'm going to take you to a teacher. They'll be able to help you, okay?"

She was going to tell on me. I was going to get in trouble. I couldn't be in trouble. I'm a hero. Sweat slicked my palms. I wanted to wipe them down, they didn't respond. My whole body was frozen.

Confidence. I needed to be brave. She just didn't understand what was happening. I tried to speak again, to explain. My words were a mess, unintelligible. Her hand was getting closer and closer.

Getting away became top priority. Explaining could wait until later, when I was more established. Teachers were bad news. I grabbed the bag on my belt, the 'containment glue'. I unhooked it and chucked it towards her. Once my hand loosed the bag, I ran as fast as I could towards the fence. She screamed as the bag hopefully hit her. I didn't dare look over my shoulder.

My legs burnt as I ran. A stitch appeared in my right side, and my rib flared with pain after each pounding footstep. I threw my backpack over the fence before clambering over myself. The towel ripped, half of it not joining me when I tried to drag it down with my fall. Sorry, soldier, I'll come back for you later.

Darting down twisting, winding alleyways in an attempt to lose any pursuers. She could fly. I'd never hear her footsteps if she was chasing me.

I caught my breath inside an alcove. Deep gulping breaths that steadied my heart rate.

When I become a Ward, I'll apologise to her personally.

Chapter Text

My first hero interaction and I messed it up!

I didn't even know who she was - someone from New Wave, since she wasn't wearing a mask - and I'd thrown a bag of my containment glue at her! She'd be stuck there for hours until they figured out how to remove the stuff. Or maybe it just splashed her. It could have been a grazing blow. She might not even be stuck at all. New Wave had a lot of shield capes.

Was I being hunted? I kept my eyes glued to the sky. Birds flying overhead kept making me jump. I needed to calm down. Deep breaths.

First priority was getting away. I was sure she noticed my face. It's only a matter of time before my glue is linked back to me. Best I keep my head down, stick to my cape identity as much as I can. I needed to get into some cape fights, fast. Then I could set my rep up, make myself untouchable. After that I can join the Wards and apologise to the Greek goddess woman.

Yeah, good plan.

I pulled on my chain mail helmet and clipped my tail into place. Some of the plastic donuts had become a bit squished in my bag. Coco and my radio were at home. I had the frisbola stored in my bag, just in case. My glue was gone. I'd need another batch. If anyone got in my way, I'd be in trouble.

I gathered a trash can lid to use as a shield like I used on my first accidental hero incident. Sword and shield were iconic for knights. I'd rather use a spear instead. The reach would help accommodate for my short arms. Coco, with a couple of modifications, would be perfect for the job.

Ideas ran through my head, distracting me from the potential danger around me. I tried to keep the flow of information quiet. I needed the brain power to think my path through.

If I had got her stuck in the glue bomb, she should still be stuck in it. If I hadn't, then she'd probably have already caught me. I had to assume she was stuck. Other capes would come to rescue her if she could reach her phone, or she could just scream. The school was in yelling distance. In that case, I should be expecting other heroes, potentially the Wards, most likely New Wave. The Protectorate might not take kindly to me attacking a cape. That's what villains did, not heroes. Would Armsmaster himself be chasing me down?

I couldn't outpace his motorbike. His armoury was also much more impressive than mine, especially since I was missing pieces. I definitely needed some kind of weapon right now.

My backpack was still full of things from Arcadia. It wasn't hard to find a dumpster with the rest of the components.

Sawing using only a jagged piece of metal was tiring, and hard. In the end I managed to make some kind of air cannon. It was a small, an unimpressive version of a larger design I had in mind. A bottle with the back cut off, that portion was covered by a piece of cloth. A strap, with a hook, was threaded into the back, letting you pull the cloth back and release.

It'd shoot small gusts of air. They wouldn't even hurt. I pushed a tube into the bottle's opening, locking it into the wireframe mesh I had crafted inside the plastic. I used some old gum to secure it in place.

Grabbing whatever gunk, food, or liquid I could find in the dumpster, I smashed it all together in a container using my fist. I added some chocolate to give it a better consistency. It wouldn't be as good as it would be in gelatin ball form, but this stink paste should fly okay. It was also just as potent as the original design, although modified.

I rolled up as many as I could make from the goo. I wrapped them gently in a piece of cloth, taking extra care to not crush them as I hung it from the firing end of the bottle.

Loading would be an issue. Once loaded, they should fly up to thirty feet. It should happily splat against whatever it hit into, leaving them with a heavy stink, the kind that soaks in. I was used to the smells. I could tell it smelt potent, strong enough to singe my nose hairs. I just didn't mind so much. My power told me it should be debilitating without nose protection. Aim for the face.

I kept the weapon lowered as I took bounding steps through as many winding paths as I could.

My breathing was still struggling, the addition of exercise not helping it any. I really needed to run more.

Thinking I heard a noise up ahead, I loaded a ball into the air cannon. An embarrassing amount of time later, my fumbling fingers slotted it into the pipe. I gripped the firing mechanism in my hand as I checked my exit.

A cat. It was just a cat. I relaxed.

Deep breaths.

After calming my nerves, I ran the last leg of my journey. My mom's apartment entrance was hidden inside the surrounding set of buildings. You had to go through a driveway that connected to the street, then into an open aired square. There were three building entrances here. All of them were apartments. The fourth building you just entered from the street.

I snuck into the square, checking it out before heading in. Coast was clear. I ducked down, keeping my height beneath the windows. I slid inside the door. Mr. Tennant was sitting in the shared hallway. He was blind. He turned his head towards me as he heard the door open and close.

"You've been out a lot lately, Meadow. Find a boyfriend?"

I cleared my throat before talking. "Ah. Footsteps, yeah?"

"And the way you close the door. Always have to click it in twice since you don't put enough oomph into it."

I softly laughed. "I'll sneak up on you one day."

"You didn't answer my question." he pulled his headphones down. "And what's with the voice? You wearing a motorbike helmet or something?" his gaze was withering.

Shit. I forgot about my helmet. I took it off, tucking it away into a bag, my chain mail - removed as quietly as I could -, tail, and new weapon joined it.

Lying was wrong. Protecting your secret identity was important.

"Ah, yeah, you were right on the money. My boyfriend drove me home on his bike." my stomach felt queasy.

He hummed. "I don't believe you for a second." he pointed to me. Heart meet stomach. "Don't think I can't smell what you've been up to. You've been diving into other people's trash again. That's where you got the helmet from."

Oh. He was lying for me, great! I laughed as sheepishly as I could. "Yeah, yeah, okay. You caught me. I thought it looked cool."

"That's fine. Just make sure you don't get sick from it. And take a damn shower!" he waggled a finger at me. The smile on his face meant he was just joking.

I was going to argue I had showered yesterday, I was interrupted when I heard a car pull up outside. "Sorry, gotta go!" I sprinted upstairs, away to my mom's apartment. Mr. Tennant yelled something about keeping my nose clean, literally.

***

My mom was home. She was crying, curled up on the floor.

"Meadow! Is that you?" she didn't even try to look at me. I could just leave.

"Yes, mom."

"Aw, come here, baby." she pulled herself up to rest with her back against the couch, making grabby hands in my direction. I complied, placing my backpack aside.

As I got close enough, she gestured for me to lean down, then pulled me into a hug.

"Sweet baby. You'd never betray me. Not like Frank." she cooed in my ear. "I'll treat you better now he's gone. I promise. We'll go out for walks, eat ice cream, get you some new clothes."

Liar. I endured the hug and the meaningless words. I could almost feel myself being captured by her spell as she started to sob, telling me that I was the best thing she ever did.

Bullshit. I know that she saw my dad in me. She'd yelled at me plenty of times for me to get the message. I was a no-good piece of shit like Him. My nose, my chin, both of them His. It was how I got the scar across my chin. She'd said it was too much like His, it needed to be different.

Every word was a lie, tailored to make me love her. To make me forget.

I pushed her away. "Have you slept?"

"No, baby, not since yesterday. The bed smells too much like him. Maybe if I could smoke, I could."

Not the smell then, just the not being high part. "You could sleep on the couch. We can spray your blankets with something that's nice."

She shook her head. "Couch is too lumpy. Let me take your bed, baby. You can use mine."

"No!" the word slipped out, a yell. Her eyes went bug wide.

"What did you say to me?" she pulled herself to her feet, suddenly full of energy. Fuck. "You don't fucking say that to me! I'm your fucking mother, you hear me?"

"I-I'm sorry! Please, I didn't mean it. You can take it, just take it and I won't say it again, please!"

"Oh no, you don't get to walk away from this that easy. You need to learn a lesson." she grabbed for me. I stumbled back, too slow. A clump of my wild hair was caught in her hand. She pulled, yanking me onto my knees. Now, I had a choice. Pull myself along willingly to avoid having my hair ripped out, or try to fight back.

Fighting back had never worked before. She'd always win and then punish me worse.

Closet time for me.

I was thrown in, my head hitting the back wall. Another dent joined the others. The door slammed shut, the deadbolt outside clicking long before I could reorientate myself. I slammed a fist into the door. "Mom! Please, I'm sorry!"

The front door slammed shut. Fuck. I was alone.

I let out sobbing breaths. The walls were tight around me. I could feel them shuddering, ready to fall on me. I could barely breathe in this confined space, my nose too clogged with snot, the deep breaths failing to do anything.

An idea. My power, a lifeline. I wasn't powerless anymore. I could make it out of here.

I searched for things I could use.

There wasn't a lot. A crusty towel, a quarter, a power cable that had melded into the outlet, the other end not plugged into anything. There were the brackets that held up the shelves above me. Screws were either loose or so far crusted into the metal. I couldn't tell the difference between either. I grabbed what screws I could. My shaking fingers struggled, making it take precious time.

The power cable's open end was one of those that looked like a little pair of binoculars. I turned the outlet off. The button resisted the effort. I won. Then I pushed two screws, one into each hole, the big end poking out. Using my fingernail, I scratched open certain parts of the cable, as indicated by my power.

I wrapped my hand up in the towel, covering as much skin as possible. Best I use my right hand, just in case. I flicked the power back on. Shoving the screws into the door hinges made a loud pop. I definitely didn't scream. Next time, I was ready for the sound. I shoved them into the hinge. Sparking, popping, and a burning smell filled my prison. Through the towel, I could feel the plastic of the cable melting from the heat.

I was targeting the screws in the hinges. They were crappy, never replaced in the history of the building, melting well. As one felt done, I moved onto the rest. By the third screw, I could feel my flesh burning. I grit my teeth. Mind over matter.

Agonising seconds passed. The plastic was probably fused with my skin at this point. Finally, the last screw melted enough. I dropped the wire as fast as I could, not daring to look at my hand beneath the towel. I shoved the door out of its frame. The hallway wall ahead of me dented as the door slammed into it. It ended up locked at a diagonal. I climbed over, running to the kitchen when I could.

Cool water found my hand, I soaked it and the towel thoroughly. My fingers stung as the water ran over them. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

I could see pieces of black plastic grafted onto my fingers. Layers of flesh had been ripped off my pointer and my middle finger. The towel had protected me from the worst of it. Water washed away ash, breaking apart a chunk of my saviour. I wasn't sure what, but I'd use this towel for something. Least I could do.

I picked at the plastic as the water flowed over my hands. Before long, I'd removed the largest chunks, leaving only little bits I couldn't pick out without digging into the flesh. My hands kept shaking.

Healing paste. That's what I needed. I shuffled over to my room, climbing over the fallen door, and retrieved the shirt crusted with the marshmallow. I shoved my burnt hand into the balm, rolling it around to coat them in the glorious resin. Pain became a dull throb, my head clearing up along with it.

Easily my best invention. Coco a close second.

She'd be coming back. As I sat on my bed, clutching my hand inside the shirt, I thought about it. No matter what I did, she'd come back. She would be expecting me to still be inside the closet, to have learnt a lesson. Fuck that. I'd be gone by the time she's back. Never coming back here again.

I glanced over my room, my sanctum. Weeks' worth of treasures surrounded me, all organised into piles, each one loved. My backpack could only carry so much. Grocery bags could be used for some other stuff. I'm not sure how much I could lug around with me.

I might have to abandon it.

It was just stuff. So why did I feel like crying at the thought of it? This sucked. Everything about it. I thought she stopped doing this. It'd been almost a month. Now, I had to go. I had to abandon my things, the things I had rescued, loved, treasured, just because my bitch mom didn't know how to take no for an answer.

My backpack was untouched. I grabbed it and a few shopping bags, double layered. I shoved the important stuff in my backpack. My costume, devices, a hotplate, a pot, my radio, and as many other electronics as I could fit. I had some space to spare, which I used on anything I felt could be important for future crafting. The bags I filled with a variety of things. I wanted the best from each pile to make sure I kept my options open for the future. I'd need food. Water, too.

I grabbed an extra bag, stuffing it with any food I had lying around that wasn't spoilt. Spoilt food went into the crafting bags. Every useable bottle I could find was filled with water from the kitchen sink. I also grabbed what meager offerings we had left in our fridge and pantry. I was no stranger to eating cold hotdogs, or just some crackers for lunch. With my scavenging skill, I should be okay. These ready-made things are a backup. Cans of stuff didn't really spoil, from what I'd heard. Dry food kept well.

After checking over what I had one last time, I felt ready.

Hello world, I'm ready to meet you.

Mr. Tennant wasn't around to see me leave. For the best.

I slipped away from the apartment. Unnoticed by sparse few people in the streets.

My new home wasn't so bad. It was spacious and warm enough. A roof over my head would keep any spring rain away.

It was a former office space. Meant for a tiny business. Two connected rooms, divided by a wall with a big hole in it. (By design, not by being smashed). One room was connected to the front door, which I had locked up with a self-made lock. Couch frames were left lying around, no cushions. The other room - which usually had a door to divide it from the other, but it was gone - had a kitchen area attached to an open space. Two thirds office, one third kitchen. None of the appliances remained, gutted down to just pipes left in empty spaces.

The kitchen-side of the building had a short hallway leading to a backdoor (also now locked), and a bathroom. Copper sold well, meaning there was none left behind the sink. The mirror was half removed, the bottom half covered in spiderweb cracks. It sat on the wall above the sink.

I also had a bathtub, again with no pipes. The toilet was in pretty good condition, all things considered. It, and there's definitely a pattern here, had no pipes, but it wasn't broken. Not even a chip. There was no upper-lid, just the lower one you sat on. I could see the pipes still on the ground behind the tank. The surface level parts had been removed, the rest was still there, just waiting to be fixed.

I deduced - means figured out in detective speech - that the sink and bath were in similar conditions. I'd need a lot of replacing the missing pieces. It should all function fine once the pipes were back.

Priority was water. I had already setup a rain catcher outside. A tarp held up with sticks to catch the rain, then the rain would slide down the tarp into a funnel that lead into a bucket. Pretty simple. My plan was to set up a few more of these around town in any out of the way places I could find.

While this building was nice, and would house me for now, I wasn't stupid enough to think it would last. People would notice me living there, eventually. Per night, I could swap out to a different building to sleep. This way I can use this as a main base for a long time. During the day, when I didn't need any lights, I could craft things here.

I also wanted to have multiple stashes. No use losing everything again if I had to move in a hurry.

I wiped away the welling tears from my eyes. No use letting it get me down.

Three other locations had been scouted already. One had a rather angry couple living in it. The other two were coated in dust, probably abandoned for years. I setup some ways in and out of those buildings for later on.

Emergency exits were important. Every window needed to have a simple latch on the inside to keep people out and to let me escape out with ease. The two doors on the building had received a special little device from me to replace their lock. They didn't use traditional keys, instead you'd use one of my modified keys. Modified keys could be made fairly easily. You just needed a special piece of gum and something to skewer it on. Preferably something flat, and metal, key-shaped, if you will.

The gum when stuffed into the lock would fill in all the little gaps, each tiny little crevice. When saliva was applied to the special gum, it'd harden the entire thing. Only then could you twist it open. After removing the hardened chunk of gum, which should just slide out easy if the formula was right, it'd return to a gooey state after about half an hour.

Instant-hardening gum. My power called it a 'saliva activated non-newtonian solid-shift material'. I called it Steel Gum. Could be useful as a prank, though it might crack a tooth.

My other idea was to mould it into pellets for my air-cannon. I'd need to make them solid before loading them in which could lead to problems. I'd think about it.

I had a huge ball of the stuff. About baseball sized. Using Coco to whack it around my house was fun. She'd get the attention she deserves after I finish prepping the safe houses. I'd also need to brew a new batch of healing paste. Guess I'll be saying farewell to more of my coin buddies soon.

Once everything was setup in each base, I felt a lot safer. Each night I'd rotate to a different one. Only one, my main base, had a mattress. The others had 'nests', for lack of a better term, a big pile of the softest things I could find. I'd shape them roughly circular so I could lie in the middle and roll around in my sleep.

I carried my blanket with me whenever I moved bases. Just a thin sheet, nothing special. It'd keep me warm enough. When it was too cold, wrapping up in the other warm things that made up my bed kept me cosy.

Tonight, I finished turning my second best invention into a neck-and-neck contender for first. Coco was no longer a baseball bat. She was attached to a metal pole I found stabbed in the lawn. Rust had been washed and scraped away as best I could. Cloth strips tied around the middle gave me a place to grip. The head was still the baseball bat, just carved down a little. I'd sanded down the part the metal plating had sat on before, making it completely flat, pointed outwards. Starting from the now flat plating, two spiralling metal tubes intertwined around each other, dancing down around the baseball bat. The 'head' of the spear was still squat, flat, the metal spirals gave it more surface area to potentially deliver its nausea.

Shaping the pipes into spirals was mostly just a lot of work. Not very fun work either. Breakage cost me even more time.

Touching the pipes wouldn't suck as much as having the grill head jammed into you. It came down to contact time. Holding onto the pipes would be just as bad as me holding the plate against someone. I don't imagine most would want to do that.

I'd reinforced the pole where I could. It should be fairly sturdy. A wooden crossguard sat just beneath where the bat met the pole. Should stop any swords from cutting down to my hands. I'd capped the bottom end of the pipe with a door knob to act as a counter weight.

The switch to activate the head was hidden underneath the wraps. My right hand would be placed over it. It was now an indented button instead of a light switch. Easier to press for my still recovering hand. Muscles being burnt had hindered my pointer and middle finger's mobility a little. I couldn't quite bend them all the way down any more.

Below my left hand, the thrusting hand, was a battery box. It held up to six batteries, three double-A and three triple-A. It could run off one battery if needed. The extra slots were in case the battery was low on juice. It was hard getting reliable ones. People didn't throw away full stuff.

I did have the device that could measure roughly how much charge they had left. It was made from a microwave someone had thrown out of a building. The readings weren't accurate. Closer to no, yes, maybe. No meant empty, maybe meant partly full, and yes meant mostly full. The answers came from some Christmas Lights. Pink, blue, and green. It'd save me from placing a dead battery into Coco, which could have led to me losing a battle.

I gave Riri the Energy Oracle a pat before moving on.

My breastplate had a good start. I'd made the aluminum outer-shell out of a trash can I'd ripped apart using some crushing and leverage techniques. The inner shell, which was intended to be made of a corrugated steel, didn't exist, much too hard to shape or cut. The aluminum part was made of interlocking pieces, letting me not worry over crude cuts too much. Spaced out moats covered the metal. It was made from a trash can after all. I couldn't get rid of that design.

The top-half slanted down, meeting the bottom half in a point at the middle of my ribs. A donut ring connected to the bottom piece and wrapped around to the back half, it connected with it's sibling by slotting into each other. The back half was more rounded, closer to one big sheet. Front and back connected with straps. The straps used a simple hook system, like a bra. My chain mail plus heavy coat would protect my sides from too much harm.

I'd also ripped out the fur linings of another coat I'd found, which I would eventually place underneath the layers of metal. Should keep me warm during patrol. It could be removed during the summer.

I planned to wear it tonight. Even half-done, it'd give me plenty of protection. Plus, it looked fucking sick.

Finally, my new ranged weapon. I had been calling it a paint gun in my head, which wasn't too far from the truth. It's design was stolen from one. It just didn't fit the theme I had been building up. Knights and raccoons.

Don't ask how the frisbee worked into that. I still needed to figure out a name for a tech-based warrior.

There was a third, secret theme, alchemy. Mixing potions, making lead into gold, it was like a magical version of science. My containment glue, healing marshmallow paste, and my skunk bombs were all alchemy. I'd mixed two of them into a pot like a witch with a potion!

So, that's what I themed my paintball gun after. The plastic bottle which would house the ammo was painted red up to about a third of the way. It stopped in a straight line that made it look like it was settled liquid when the gun was pointing towards someone. The red would also obscure my ammo count. A small hatch, made from the plastic lid of an orange juice carton, was fitted into the top of the bottle. It'd act as my ammo recepticle. The bottle twisted into place in a bottle cap I'd glued to the pipe.

A hole big enough to feed a single piece of ammo at a time led into the plastic pipe. The end of the pipe that would be closest to me had a modular opening. I could either screw in a mouth piece to manual fire or I could add in pressurised cans to shoot for me. The cans were activated with the press of a trigger attached to a wooden stock below the pipe.

I'd wrapped different coloured tape around the pipe to make it look a bit nicer. A symbol was painted onto the side of the stock that faced outwards, a raccoon head. I wasn't an artist. Still, it was pretty cute.

I called her Fufu, the Alchemist.

To finish off, I had modified some plastic bottles to function as pouches. Sawing the top off, adding twine so it could be bound to my belt, and adding a liftable lid made from the top half of the bottles. They looked like a squat little bottle with a teacup hatch. I filled them with healing paste, extra ammo of both kinds, and some emergency containment glue. Glue bottle had some sugar packets tucked into the thread.  

I was ready for the next part of my plan.

Helping people was great, and all, but I needed rep, and fast. Tonight, and as many nights as it takes, I'd go out patrolling. I'd keep an ear out for my radio, for the specific codes that indicated parahumans were fighting.  

Then, I could prove my worth.

It wasn't easy.

The first night hadn't achieved much. I spent it gathering some food for later on. Restaurants dumped all their food out at closing time. Less fancy places would close around the time I started my patrol. Snacks for now, meals for later.

I was in full costume, including my breastplate. I added a sling made from a ripped up sheet for Fufu. She rested across my stomach. For Coco, I added a grip to the top of the radio. I could slot her into it when I was one-hundred percent sure there was absolutely no danger around.

She wasn't easy to get back out of it. The arm position ended up a bit awkward. No cowboy fast draws for me. She'd also increase my horizontal size by a lot. There weren't many doors I needed to go through, just something to keep in mind.

I'd go back to the drawing board for her storage.

Radio voices chirped in my air, announcing codes on occasion. I wrote down any I didn't know, keeping an ear out for context clues to explain what they were. After my previous failure, I was being extra careful. I knew what Denver used for crimes involving different types of parahumans. I just wasn't sure what was used here. It could potentially be the same, since they'd be newer. I just had to hope they gave me enough context to follow through.

The second night, I found what I was after.

"0320, sidekick's kids are engaged with the Empire cape known as Rune. Potential civilian's trapped in a collapsed building."

Perfect! Not for the civilians, of course.

I ran to the location listed. It was at the edge of a park, a wide road running past it.

A girl in a black and red robe was hopping between pieces of floating rubble. She was nearly as high up as the surrounding buildings were. Bright bolts of energy ripped through the space she had been, leaving a funny looking afterglow in the dark. They splashed harmlessly when they hit buildings. She was rotating between three pieces of rubble, making them act like a conveyor belt.

The air distorted and she was on the ground. I ran forward, readying Fufu, this was going to be a ranged fight. I poured glue bullets into the ammo container, double checking that one had fallen down into the pipe.

Vista - OMIGOSH VISTA - was shortening the gap between herself and Rune. As Rune flung bits of rubble, they quickly twisted out of existence. I could hear the girl cursing from here.

A man in futuristic looking silver armour with blue under lights was shooting the blasts I saw before. Gallant. He was trying to keep pace with the now grounded fight, while also maintaining a healthy distance. Ranged fighter, definitely. I'd heard his power armour could do well in a closed-ranged brawl if needed.

He glanced my direction as I approached, raising his other hand in my direction.

"I'd like to request you stand back, please." he nodded to me, then returned his attention back to his teammate.

At this distance to Gallant, my power was buzzing at the back of my mind. It wasn't giving any ideas, it was just excited about something.

"Oh.. uh.. I can help, actually." I aimed my gun towards Rune. She was running across the grass now drawing quick symbols with her fingers when they were near things. I could see them start to levitate up from the ground. Bigger objects came to orbit around Rune, smaller ones flung themselves to Vista. Vista countered by simply shifting the air so the attack wasn't even close.

Fucking awesome. I ran to catch up to the fight. Gallant was chasing after me.

"No, wait, please. Vista has this-" he was saying something as I got in range to shoot. I took a few shots. My first went wide, the second hit rune in the side. Yes!

Wait. It was a tiny splat. She didn't even seem to notice that much. It wouldn't even leave a bruise. Containment glue was not good in paintball form.

I flipped the gun upside down and unloaded the glue bullets, then I started to load stink bullets instead.

Gallant stepped out in front me, he held a finger up to me. "I appreciate that you want to help. I really do. But, we have a team dynamic, and a plan. A third party getting involved can potentially throw that off balance. So, please - ," he really stressed the please. "stay put. We can talk after, I promise." then he took off. Through some unspoken communication the surrounding space warped, and he was two feet away from Rune.

She didn't seem surprised. A fire hydrant blocked Gallant's fist. It made a gong sound. Gallant started to fly away, backwards. I didn't know he could fly. The building he crashed into rained down rubble, he was lost through the walls. Vista increased the distance between her and Rune to the length of a street.

I needed to help, no matter what Gallant thought. I unhooked Coco from her grasp as I ran forward, Fufu's stock squeezed under my arm to keep her steady. My right hand really didn't want to pull the trigger. I made it. I felt something tear before bullets started to smack into Rune. She cursed loudly, levitating objects to try to block me.

I pulled Coco around to my front, still loosing shots as I ran closer and closer.

"Fuck this reeks!" Rune yelled. Clumps of dirt soared past my head, I stumbled as one barely missed. I fell down onto my face. Fufu flew from my grip and smacked Rune in the legs. I rolled to the side, clutching Coco tight, as the fire hydrant came hurtling towards my head from above.

By the time I found my feet Rune was dry-heaving, leant against a swing set. My chance! I rushed forward, Coco's spear head pointed towards the currently disabled girl.

Vista's voice was muffled, far away, my helmet didn't help. She said something like "N... don.. tr..". I barely had time to process it before I was in lunging range of Rune.

I thrusted the spear out, using what little reach I had to strike it into the girl.

An entire swing set collided into me. I was thrown head over heels, tumbling as I often did, away from my opponents. My breastplate had taken the brunt of it. I could feel it had dented in but kept the bar mostly back. It didn't save me from being pinned by it. My arms were contained. Note to self; make devices that can be activated without the use of hands.

Rune's face leered over me. Her costume made her look like the mage from the book I found the knight in. A hood shadowed her face, making it hard to see her features.

"Fuck yough." she held a hand up to her mouth as she wretched out the 'you'.

Gallant's fist swung at Rune. She squawked and rolled away in time to avoid it. She gripped onto the swing set, using it to fling herself up, over the buildings.

I pulled myself to my feet so I could survey my damage. I had a cylinder shaped dent right across my new breastplate. The chain mail on my arms had been squished a bit, shouldn't be too hard to fix. Coco's new pole had been bent along with my armour, causing her to bend at almost a right angle. I needed to replace that entirely. Fufu was on the ground where the swing set had originally been. I could grab her later.

Gallant was muttering something, communicating with someone on comms?

Vista rejoined us. One moment she wasn't there, the next space warped, and she stepped through, like she came through a dimensional door. I could see her mouth, I wasn't sure what expression it was without the eyes. It wasn't a smile, at least. Her costume was very green. It had cool armour panels, a visor, and a skirt. I'd considered a plate skirt for my own costume, inspired by hers.

She shared a look with her teammate before they turned to me.

"We almost had her there, huh?" I beamed. We were pretty close. Shame about the end.

Gallant placed a gloved hand against his helmet. Vista looked like she was smiling and frowning at the same time.

Something I said?

Chapter Text

"Vista, I'll call this in. You talk to our... guest." Gallant gestured to me before turning away, talking to someone on his communicator.

Vista looked great. She was shorter than me, yet five times as cool as I'd ever be. Her face returned to a passive look, away from that weird frown smile.

"That stuff you shot her with, what's it made of?" she wafted a hand in front of her nose. "It smells pretty bad."

"Yeah, it's meant to!" I pulled a stink pellet from its ammo pouch and held it out to her. "Rotten food, mostly. Not too hard to make. I added some chocolate to give it the consistency. Originally, it was more of a liquid."

She took it to inspect. Holding it slightly out of her face, she took a tentative sniff. Vista immediately started dry heaving.

"Ugh. That's awful." She held it out to me and I took it back. "I'd love to see Hookwolf hit with a few of those."

Praise? From Vista? I beamed at her. She gave me a small smile back.

"Your costume, is that mail made from the thing on soda cans?" she gestured to the chain mail running down my arms.

"Yep! Can tabs, a whole ton of them." I ran my hand across my right arm. They'd dented some from the swing set being pressed up against it. "Made a whole shirt of it. In the future, I wanna make pants too."

"And it works? As armour, I mean?"

"Totally. According to a book I read," it was mostly pictures, but I had read most of the words "chain mail is mostly to lessen the blow. You gotta wear something called a gambeson underneath. It's like a padded cloth. Then the mail and the gambeson together totally stop swords from even hurting you."

"You're into knights, then?" Vista glanced over to Gallant. He sort of looked like a knight, just a very futuristic one. Was she jealous that I'd like him more?

"I am, but you're my favourite by far. Gallant doesn't hold a candle to you, don't worry."

"I wasn't... nevermind. Do you have a name?"

"Raccoon Knight! Patent pending." I gave her a short bow. My helmet almost slipped off my head before I readjusted it.

"Raccoon Knight. You seem very new to all of this. Would you mind if I gave you some advice?" I shook my head. "Good. Now, listen, any other time and we would have appreciated your help. This time, however, we were going in with a very specific plan in mind. This was a predetermined plan of attack, not an impromptu caught off-guard moment." she pressed her hands together. "That is to say, you kind of messed us up there."

Anxiety struck me. No, I was just trying to help. I fucked it up. I messed up their plan. I thought I was helping, but they'd lost Rune because of me.

"Wait, wait, wait. We're not blaming you!" Vista waved her hands at me. "You couldn't have known what we were planning. I'm sure you saw us fighting someone and just wanted to help out. You're new to the game and couldn't possibly have known. In the future, listen to what the heroes tell you. Gallant told you to stay back, and I warned you it was a trap. You can trust us. We're on your side. Okay?"

"I-I just... I wanted to... I thought, you know, you needed..." I'd messed it all up. Why hadn't I listened? "My helmet it. I couldn't hear you, and Gallant said. I just thought that I could assist." I grasped my head in my hands. Tear ran down my face, sliding out of the bottom of my helmet to the grass below.

"Hey. It's alright, I promise." Vista stepped closer to me. "Woah, crying. Um. Shit, what's protocol?" she muttered. I barely heard it over my sobs.

I flinched away from a hand placed on my shoulder. Gallant's hand. He was standing there, expression hidden by his helmet, with his hand outstretched. "I've been asked to bring you with us to the Ward's HQ. Would you like that? You can meet the rest of the team while you're there, if you want." his voice was gentle, calm. So why did I feel so scared when he spoke? 

"I can't, I, I don't have the rep."

"Rep?" Gallant sounded confused. He shook his head. "You don't need any rep, don't worry. Glory Girl, and the Director wanted to talk to you."

Glory Girl? She was a member of New Wave. Was she the one I stuck to the ground? There was no way I could go in. They'd think I'd attacked her. And now, I'd let Rune escape. I needed to have a capture under my belt before I spoke to them.

"No, I, I really can't. Not yet." I backed up. "I need to do something first."

Gallant and Vista looked at each other for a moment. "We'd really like it if you came with us. We can help you, I promise." Gallant held his hands out towards me, placating, soothing.

"It'll be safe. You'll get to meet the rest of the team, and you can do whatever you need to after. You're not under arrest or anything. Glory Girl just wants to talk to you." Vista held a hand out to me. "We can go in together. I won't let anything happen to you, alright?"

Vista wanted to protect me. I'd messed up, let their hunt escape, and she was being nice. There had to be some kind of catch. People weren't nice if you ruined their plans. I just couldn't figure out what. Vista probably worked with Glory Girl all the time. They'd be friends, best friends even. She'd want me to be punished for hurting her best friend. Gallant was probably as attractive as Glory Girl. They probably dated. He'd want me punished for hurting his girlfriend.

Their words were honey to me. I so desperately wanted to believe them. Heroes don't lie. Do they? Which means I should trust what they were saying to me. I wasn't in trouble, it was just talking. I'd even get to meet the other Wards. But I'd ruined their plans, which meant they should be wanting to punish me. If heroes don't lie, then I should trust them. Plans being ruined meant I should be punished, so I shouldn't trust them. So, heroes did lie? Or they weren't really mad.

Maybe it didn't matter to them if Rune was caught or not. Vista said I'd messed them up. Yet, didn't want to punish me for it, or even for hurting her best friend? I was confused.

"Calm down, take a deep breath. Three seconds in, three seconds out. No one's going to hurt you." Gallant said. It was like he could hear my thoughts. Or I was still crying. Yeah, I was.

I followed his advice, taking the instructed breath.

"Good. Now, you're not under arrest. You're free to leave if you want to. But, we'd like you to come with us so we can clear some things up. You're not in trouble, you're not going to be punished."

Vista walked closer to me as Gallant spoke. Her smile was nice. She gestured with her head away from the park.

I took her hand.

My fading sobs were almost deafening in the oppressive silence that was currently hanging over us. After they convinced me to go with them, they'd receive some kind of call that put them both on edge. Neither were talking. Their heads were turning, scanning the environment.

I snapped Coco off at the bend she'd earned before heading out. She'd be a bit unbalanced, but should otherwise work just fine. The main wiring was at the top of the shaft. I gripped her close, keeping her tucked under my arm.

Gallant scouted ahead, peering around street corners before giving us the go ahead to walk down them. Vista kept an eye on our back, her hands twitching occasionally. I wasn't sure what we were looking out for. I made sure to keep my eyes peeled for even a slight bit of a movement. My visor blocked a lot of my view when it was flipped down. Flipping it up only showed my eyes, which wasn't a big deal. I kept it up, all the better to see danger.

Tearing metal echoed through the street. A whirling dervish of blades came falling down from a rooftop, landing where we would have been if not for Vista's intervention. She shoved me aside, pulling Gallant and herself away from a thrown chunk of debris.

"Run! We'll deal with this!" she yelled to me, her voice sounding like she was right in front of me. The gap between us was widening. The world twisted around me. Buildings swam by as I was pulled this way and that. Everything settled after a moment. I found myself stood in an unfamiliar street.

Focused on trying to settle down my crying, I wasn't sure which way we had gone. Even then, I didn't know where I was now. I needed to help, had to help.

There were houses around me, a suburb of sorts. Trash cans waiting just outside each door, ripe for the picking. I set to work. People didn't enjoy when you went through their trash for whatever reason. They'd thrown it out, proven they didn't want it, and had the nerve to yell at me for giving it a new home, new life? I didn't understand it at all. I was as quiet as I could be. It wasn't quiet work.

I emerged from the fifth can with my hands full of stuff. I commandeered someone's yard to begin crafting. Each piece called out to me, waiting to be used. I just wasn't sure what they wanted. I'd grabbed these bits seemingly at random. I stared at them now and let down the walls.

My power flowed, pinging off each piece. I saw how they could all fit together. How they all belonged. A hose here, some gum there, a bit of lighter fluid there. People, as I just learnt, throw out electronics that are in next to working order. The few things I had grabbed; a flashlight, an electric razor, and a small engine, simply needed some piece bent the right way, or to reconnect an inner component. I should raid people's personal trash cans more often. I'd stuck to dumpsters mostly so far.

Within a few short minutes, I'd made my magnum opus. An umbrella. At least, that's what everyone else would see. This thing, no, Cici, the End, will fall apart the moment she's fired. Whatever opportunity I got with her, I'd have to take it. Hopefully, it'd let everyone get away safely.

I clicked my radio on. Voices were reporting an ongoing cape fight between members of the Empire Eighty-Eight and the Protectorate. Police backup was requested to escort civilians away from the fight itself. I could follow a car to get to the fight pretty easily.

Despite wanting nothing more than to shoot Cici and help the heroes, I also needed to keep civilians safe. I'd use her if a chance came up, otherwise I'd focus on getting people away from the danger and offering covering fire.

***

Finding the fight wasn't too hard. Vista had put me an impressive distance away. On the radio, they'd listed several street names. I'd managed to narrow down the direction using the ones I knew. Once I was close enough, it was a simple matter of following the PRT sirens.

Gashes taken out of the concrete showed the path of Hookwolf, the rapid ball of spikes I saw before. Random objects had been uprooted and now stuck out of walls, doors, or had vanished entirely. Rune's work had to be. There were also scorch marks. I wasn't aware of any Empire capes that had fire powers. Pyrokinesis, I think it's called.

Civilians had come out of their houses to see the aftermath of the commotion. Paramedics were administering first aid to a couple of people.

"Hello. Um, I have a healing paste that can help with cuts or bruising. You apply it to the injury and then cover it with bandages." I spoke to a woman paramedic who was working on a man's injured leg. She glanced up at me, then her eyes ran up and down my body.

"We need clearance to use the healing of a parahuman we don't know. Are you registered at the hospital as a healer?"

"Oh.. No, I'm not."

"We can also use it if the patient gives their consent." she turned to the man.

"Will it let me back on my feet soon? Time off is bad enough as is, without it being weeks."

From what I'd gathered healing the homeless, their infections were the first thing to be removed, clearing up in just days. Open cuts or sores had closed up a little, but not a whole ton. My own bruises had faded in just a day of sleeping in the stuff. My swollen rib was also now just a tiny little bump that only hurt if I poked it.

"It should cut down on the time to heal by about half, I'd guess. It's also a pain relief." probably best not to tell him it was mostly untested. My power told me it was completely safe for humans. We could even eat it, but that didn't mean regular people would believe that. Knowing things you shouldn't is hard to explain.

"Well, I'll take it. Thank you, miss..."

"Raccoon Knight, at your service." I gave him a quick bow. I removed my glove before slathering some of the healing sludge onto his cut. He sighed at the pain leaving him.

"That's good stuff."

The paramedic took to bandaging over the cut, keeping the healing paste inside. "You'll want to wipe away any that drips out of the bandage. The main component is sugar, so it might attract ants. After the cut is completely healed the last of the balm should fall out and can be wiped away."

"You said it was a pain relief. Is it addictive?" the paramedic asked me as she finished up her work.

"Oh. I don't think so. It wasn't made to be addictive."

"Most medicine isn't. Are you sure there's no short-term addiction?"

I spoke to Rex recently. We met while I was rummaging around for my new home. He didn't ask me for any more of the stuff, didn't even mention it at all. We just spoke about the best ways to find food.

"I'm one-hundred percent confident that there is no short-term addiction to my healing balm." I put my hand up flat towards her, three fingers raised. People on TV did that when they were trying to tell the truth.

She smirked at me, but nodded. "Good. I'll ask the others if they want any."

I needed to get back into the action. Helping people was great. It was exactly what I wanted to do. What I needed to do was save Vista and Gallant.

"I'm sorry. I have to get going. Here." I unhooked one of the three healing paste containers I had strapped to me. "take this. It'll work on most outside injuries. Inside injuries would need it applied on the inside, which isn't easy. Just slather it on, don't need to be heavy, and cover it up." she took the bottle from me, testing the lid a few times.

"Got it. Thank you."

I nodded at her and took off, following a wolf's tracks.

***

Running around in armour got tiresome fast.

My sweaty efforts were rewarded when I finally found the battle. Hookwolf was engaged with Armsmaster, in his metallic blue power armour, with neither gaining much ground. Miss Militia was on a rooftop somewhere as I saw various types of bullets hit the different Empire Eighty-Eight that were engaged.

Gallant was keeping Rune occupied between Miss Militia's shots. Vista was acting as battlefield support, moving people around to where they needed to be, or moving enemies away from allies. Alabaster was trying to engage Vista. but kept finding tranquilliser bolts stuck in him. Four seconds later, he'd reset and be back at it. An endless game of cat and mouse. He was an otherwise normal looking guy, a bit stocky, but normal, so long as you ignored his porcelain white skin, hair, and eyes.

The bolts came from Shadow Stalker. She was slipping around the fight in her mist form, mostly keeping Vista safe. A few shots from her crossbow were aimed at Hookwolf. The bolt stayed in the mist form as it sailed through the air, disappearing inside of Hookwolf's writhing mass. They didn't seem to be doing a lot. She looked fucking awesome. Her cloak billowed as she rolled around, shifting between her human form and her shadowy mist form. A stern woman's face adorned her mask. She was all black armour, flowing cloak, and awesome.

She grabbed another bolt from the straps on her arms and loaded it into a crossbow. Another shot stopped Alabaster dead in his tracks. It wasn't a tranquilliser bolt like I thought. They tore a hole through Alabaster, who would reset the damage again after four seconds.

I readied Cici. When revved up, she'd fly in a mostly straight line. Her flight time should be enough to reach Hookwolf. I grabbed the hosepipe and pulled on it with as much force as my tired arms could muster. She sputtered. Again. Sputter. Again. Purring. Yes!

I pushed her up into the sky. The umbrella top whirred as it spun around and around. Cici took flight, heading over the heads of everyone. With the umbrella opened up, you could see the components I'd added down her handle. The engine coughed up black smoke as she sailed across the heads of villain and hero alike. A few spared her a passing glance, most ignored her. She was quiet over the scraping of metal against concrete, and the loud shots or fwoomps from Miss Militia's weapons.

She reached close to Hookwolf before her payload began to deliver. If you could hear it, I imagine it sounded like a sprinkler on a lawn. Green goo rained down to the street below, picking up in coverage as she kept spinning. Where the goo met concrete, cloth, wood, it did nothing. Where it met metal, it ate its fill. A mailbox was left with a large bite taken out of it as the acid chewed its way through.

Hookwolf bucked as some droplets met his form. They ate away chunks of the metal, rendering blades useless, melting through hooks, spearhead, and the like with ease. More met their sisters. In a few short moments, Hookwolf looked like someone had grabbed large handfuls away from the metal cake that he was. Armsmaster backed up, avoiding the rain using a car.

I whooped, catching the attention of Alabaster and Vista.

I tried to grab Coco as Alabaster sprinted towards me. Vista was too slow in warping the space, and my hands were too shaky to bring Coco out in time. She was out of her clip, ready to be swung around to my front as the knife leapt towards me. My breastplate covered a lot of me. It still had its swing set dent. The structural integrity was weak. Alabaster had aimed at my side, where the plate left my side exposed. Chain mail and a thick coat were all I had there.

The chain mail popped as the knife seared through it. Alabaster tackled me in the same motion, bringing us to the ground in a heap of knight and nazi. I struggled as best I could. At the end of the day, I was a teenage girl, and he was a full grown man.

Alabaster pulled his knife back to go for another stab. Shadow Stalker's foot, delivered right to his side, sent him rolling off of me. I scrambled to my feet, slamming a chunk of healing paste into the knife wound. Coco was at the ready in the same motion. Alabaster leapt to his feet in a smooth motion. Shadow Stalker traded some melee blows, Alabaster's knife always meeting nothing but mist.

Vista extended out a collapsable baton. She swung at the air. Alabaster reeled as the baton met his face from over fifteen feet away.

"What'd you do to Hook?" Vista asked me, still swinging at the albino nazi.

"Highly corrosive acid. Should eat through most types of metals. Nothing else, though." I glanced over to the Hookwolf fight down the street. There wasn't one.

Cars, mailboxes, streetlights, and Hookwolf all had large chunks removed from them. In Hookwolf's case, he was collapsed on the ground, his metal slowly folding back into his form. Armsmaster stood over him. His armour also had bites taken out of it, showing a dark cloth underlayer he wore at parts. Whoops. I doubt he'd be very happy about that.

Rune was nowhere to be seen. A figure joined Armsmaster's side. Miss Militia, I assume. From here, I could mostly see her signature scarf draped around her neck. Her weapon changed form into some kind of knife, and she stowed it away. She turned and began to run towards us.

I grabbed Coco and joined Shadow Stalker in her fight. Alabaster seemed to know how to fight. He was keeping Stalker on the ropes. I doubt it would have been much of a matchup without Vista's intervention from her extra-expandable baton.

Skirting around the edge of the fight, I waited for my moment. A rubber bullet met the back of Alabaster's neck as he attempted to run off through the gap in a building. I lunged, jamming the purring Coco into his side. His body clenched up causing him to topple down to the ground. He reset after two seconds. I jabbed him again. Stalker backed up. Her breathing was heavy. One elephant. Two elephants. Three elephants. Four elephants. Jab. The constant spasms and vertigo kept him down. Miss Militia withdrew some zip ties (fuck, I forgot to find some), and pulled them onto Alabaster at the start of his cycle, freshly zapped.

Armsmaster's mouth was always visible. The bottom of his helmet was open, showing off his perfectly groomed beard. The acid had revealed a bit more, showing me his cheeks and a little of a domino mask. He did not look happy.

Do I run? I can pretend to grab Cici. I'm sure the heroes wouldn't stop me from doing that. Then I can run away after.

Armsmaster spared me an angry look before speaking to Miss Militia.

"PRT will be here in moments. Hookwolf should keep for an hour or two. Can you deal with her?" his head nodded towards me. "I can take Alabaster."

Miss Militia heaved Alabaster up, who looked even more upset than Armsmaster, and handed him over to the hero. "No problem. I don't mind. Vista, Stalker, go with Armsmaster and keep watch on the prisoners." Vista saluted before running off. Shadow Stalker just muttered something and followed along.

"Raccoon Knight. It's nice to meet you." Miss Militia's eyes crinkled up. I couldn't tell what it meant without seeing her mouth.

She knew my name? "You know my name?!" excitement bounced around my body.

"Yes," I could hear the smile in her voice now, "we've been hearing about people seeing you around. A woman claimed you saved her from a mugging, which we confirmed with the police. Good work with that." she gestured back to Vista. "Vista is the one who told us your name. She called it in before this all happened. You were heading to the PRT building, right?"

Her tone didn't make me think I was in trouble. The property damage beyond proved otherwise. There was no way I was getting away cleanly from breaking this much stuff. "I..." changed my mind? Would she let me just go? "need to grab my device. I don't want a civilian grabbing her." I started to leave. Miss Milita held my shoulder. She wasn't stopping me with any force, she just wanted me to stop for a moment.

"Armsmaster already retrieved it. We'll give it back to you." her eyes swept over the scene. Cars were ruined, huge chunks taken out of the metal, mail boxes were nothing but the wooden pole they stood on, and manhole covers had been melted almost completely. I winced. People needed their cars. I'd become like every other hero. Untold property damage in the name of justice. I felt sick.

"Don't worry about the damage. The good from helping us bring in Hookwolf and Alabaster will outweigh it in people's minds. People have cape insurance, and their property can be replaced, they themselves cannot. Damage now for lives later." she squeezed my shoulder, reassuring. The physical contact was nice. People around here weren't as poor as my neighbourhood. They could afford the damage. It did little to help my worries.

Sure, the cars would be fixed, but that would take time. Tomorrow morning when they need to get to work? What then? Most of the cars would work. The damage was superficial, mostly to the chassis. Cops would stop them from being driven in that state. Inner frames of tires had melted after the acid ate through the hubcap, leaving them exposed. Those were not driveable. I'd ruined people's days, ultimately. What good was bringing in Hookwolf if these people suffered for it now?

It was hard to imagine future people being potentially, maybe, possibly safe from Hookwolf's potential rampage. Too many ifs. I shook my head.

"I'd like to go home. If I can?" I asked the heroine, refusing to look her in the eye.

"You can go home. We're not keeping you. But, I would like for you to come with us to the PRT headquarters. We'd take your statement, clear up some past doings, and then give you a place to sleep if you wanted it, or a drive back to your house." I flinched a little at the mention of my home. Leaving my mom was still too fresh. "We can also do that tomorrow, though. So, there isn't any reason to keep you. Please do come in to debrief at some point. We'd appreciate it." she let go of my shoulder and turned to me. I shook my head. I couldn't go in, not yet. Her eyes crinkled up again as she nodded, then turned to leave.

Glory Girl was going to be angry at making her wait. Not much I could do about that. I needed to do more before I could go in. Make up for the property damage here. Get a few more solo arrests under my belt. I also wanted to feed the homeless again. Maybe I could volunteer at a soup kitchen.

I steadied my breathing and headed home to makeshift sleeping shelter number two.

AN:

Bonus Art! Old 3D renders of Meadow's doohickeys.

Chapter Text

Armsmaster’s workshop was organised efficiently. Every tool was where it needed to be. It was an organised chaos. Tools were piled up in places he could reach as and when they were needed. Every part has its place, and he knew every part’s place. Dragon often asked how he worked in ‘that mess’. She was mostly joking.

“Working with foreign Tinkertech is a task on its own. Even Kid’s tech stumps me sometimes.” Armsmaster spoke to the empty air, to Dragon. When he was in his lab they tended to be on a call together. He liked the company of the woman, and his day was ever so slightly worse when she was busy. “This, however,” he gestured to the umbrella on his workbench “is quite literally trash.”

“Colin, that ‘trash’ melted through your armour which is no easy feat,” the disembodied voice of Dragon reprimanded him.

“No. I don’t mean it’s not well made. Although that could be debated. I mean it’s quite literally made from things you’d find in a dumpster.”

“Oh.”

“This engine has been repaired beforehand. It doesn’t seem like a big job, anyone familiar with engines could fix it. The hose pipe has been taped up, clearly having chunks of it missing before. And the container for the acid is just a part of a vacuum.” He tapped the parts mentioned with his screwdriver. “By all accounts it looks like something anyone could make, and by all accounts it shouldn’t work.

The acid is the only part I’d even consider Tinkertech. Its properties are interesting, and devastating. I worry about what it could do if made to be self-replicating, fueled by the metal it eats.”

“Potentially dangerous, as most Tinkers are. We have to trust she won’t do that. None of what we know about her leads to that conclusion.” Dragon’s avatar smiled. “Now, you were excited about your lie detector’s progress yesterday, tell me about that.”

Colin smiled and happily divulged.

Once again I’m five seconds away from a panic attack. Why did making decisions have to be so hard?

I really, really, really wanted to go into the PRT. Paperwork was important, and my account could be the difference between an arrest or none. What’s more, is that I’d get to see the building! I’d been offered a tour before by Vista, they’d even let me meet the Wards! I could see Kid Win’s lab, Armsmaster’s lab, Gallant’s lab! All of it was so exciting, which made me think it was too good to be true.

I felt like I needed more trophies on my wall. An arrest or two, some more repair work, and making sure my fellow homeless (technically, though I did have a home) were fed. Potentially even another cape fight. Rune had gotten away, and she’d then alerted Hookwolf, Alabaster, and some fire-wielding cape to help her get revenge on Vista and Gallant.

They’d been in danger because of me messing up their fight. Sure, the fight with Hookwolf I’d managed to help take him down, and the Protectorate were clearly on their way, or in the area already, since they got there so fast, but I’d made that fight happen for no real reason. I wasn’t even sure if Gallant was okay, he wasn’t around at the end when Miss Militia spoke to me.

Rune had gotten away again. She wasn’t as dangerous as Hookwolf was. I wasn’t sure where Alabaster laid on the power scale. I’d mostly heard about him due to his participation in a lot of unpowered brawls. Hearing of a fight between whatever gang occupied the territory around my mom’s apartment and the Empire Eighty-Eight goons usually also included Alabaster.

He was stronger than me. I doubt Armsmaster would have struggled against him. He was only as strong as a normal guy.

My frisbola! I completely forgot about it. That would have disabled him a lot sooner than Coco would have. A combo with it and Coco would have been more than enough. Damnit, why didn’t I think of it. Shadow Stalker might not have had to put herself in danger that way.

Stupid. NOTE TO SELF: ALWAYS REMEMBER ALL OF YOUR TOOLS.

I definitely needed additional ways to disable opponents. My glue was good, but lacked any way to deliver it. Paintballs are a terrible method of delivering large chunks of the stuff. I wonder how the PRT captures people. Miss Militia had used zip ties to arrest Alabaster. I didn’t see what they used on Hookwolf, I wasn’t even sure how they took him down in the first place. My acid should have eaten through the metal, not him. God, I hope I hadn’t killed him.

Maybe I could ask when I turned in my report.

The PRT building was a squat skyscraper made from glass. Every surface was a window, metal bars protected them. It looked pretty similar to other buildings around here, though much more reinforced. A shield logo was attached above the front entrance with ‘P.R.T.’ marked on it.

I’d come in costume. My breastplate was too dented to look cool anymore. I planned to replace the top portion of it, I just didn’t have enough time. Cutting out the pieces last time had been a whole day's worth of effort, pinching them between rocks and making my way through by clipping with pliers. Gruelling, laborious work. I looked forward to it. This time around I planned to add an emblem. The PRT logo was an inspiration.

For now, I was wearing my coat, chainmail, and helmet. I’d also kept my weapons away, I wanted to send the right message. I kept my ammo pouches of healing balm and containment glue, just in case. The stink pellets were left at home. My chain mail was partially shredded were I'd been hit by Alabaster. The coat beneath was also torn, revealing the fluffy insides, healing paste crusted up against it. Turns out, the knife hadn't even hurt me beside a bruise from the impact. I definitely needed to fix up my chainmail.

A lot of people were staring at me as I headed inside. Tourists, too many cameras for locals. A few snapped pictures as I walked. Hopefully I looked cool rather than as nervous as I felt. Confidence. I was Raccoon Knight right now, not boring old Meadow.

“Hello. My name is Raccoon Knight, patent pending.” I gave a short bow. “Last night I assisted in an arrest against some of the Empire Eighty-Eight and was asked to come in and give a report.” I spoke to the receptionist. She was young, maybe college aged, but had that jaded retail worker look in her eyes. Her smile was nice, polite, and clearly fake.

“Raccoon Knight, yes. We’ve been expecting you.” She tapped a few keys on her keyboard. If I found a keyboard I might be able to make something to interface with any overlay I setup inside my helmet’s sunglasses. “Miss Militia is around and willing to take your report. Go through that door over there.” her hand pointed over to a door on my right.

Two armed agents in a PRT uniform stood guard. They had what looked like flamethrowers attached to tanks on their back. Fire seemed like a poor choice to stop people. Safe to assume it’s something else. The shorter one nodded to me, their visor reflective enough to see what I looked like. Sort of cool, even without the breastplate. My wild hair poked out the back of the helmet, making it look like a fur cloak. You couldn’t see much of my face through the helmet, just a tiny slither of my eyes through the helmet’s slit. They were shaded, which made me look mysterious.

I really needed gloves. My small hands gave away how frail I was. Maybe some of those big welding gloves? All of my current triggers should work fine even through thick gloves. My mail and coat combat looked good though. The elbow pad seemed a bit silly. I’d replace it with metal eventually.

I was led through a corridor at a fast pace. I had to jog a little to keep up with their longer strides. Neither spoke during our journey.

“In here,” a male voice, the shorter one, told me, gesturing to an unmarked door. I nodded and headed inside.

It looked like every cop show ever. An interrogation room. Two chairs sat opposite each other around a metal table. A large mirror reflecting the room. Correction, a two-way mirror reflecting the room. Shit. It really was a trap.

As I turned to leave a familiar face entered, Miss Militia. Outside of the dark of the night I could see she was pretty. Olive skin, silky dark hair, bottle-glass green eyes. If Glory Girl was a Greek goddess, this was one of her apostles. Her costume was some kind of military outfit with American flag additions. An American flag scarf draped around her neck, covering her lower face, and down her back a little ways to form a sort of cloak. Like the kind musketeer’s wore, sort of.

“Raccoon Knight. It’s good to see you again. Would you like to take a seat?” She took a seat in front of the mirror.

I could still leave. No, I couldn’t. Miss Militia was a faster draw than I was a runner. She could stop me easily. I sat down, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Good. The process for this is simple. You give me a retelling of how the fight went down last night in your own words. I’ll record it with this.” She placed a small recording device onto the table. “Then, if you want to, we can visit the Wards as promised. Sounds good?”

“Uh. Yeah, sure. Though, I don’t wanna visit the Wards, if that’s alright?” Maybe I should visit them. A final treat before I’m hauled off to jail.

Her eyebrows hitched up. Confusion, or surprised, I think. “That’s fine. I thought you would want to, you seemed interested according to Vista.”

“I changed my mind?” Why'd I phrase it like a question?

“Okay. I understand. No matter, you’re not obliged to. How about we get started with that report?”

I nodded and retold the event from my side. After she clicked off the recording, thanking me, I decided to ask “What happened to Gallant, by the way? I lost track of him near the end. Also, I didn’t know the Empire had a fire cape, or was it one of Armsmaster’s or Gallant’s devices that made the scorch marks?”

“Gallant chased after Rune, Othala, and Victor with the help of Velocity. Othala is a power granter, one of the powers she can grant is fire. They were hoping to melt through Armsmaster and Gallant’s armour. Victor was the one using the fire. Both of them fled before you rejoined the fight.”

Othala and Victor. I’d need to remember those names. “Oh, okay, thank you.” Miss Militia stood up, her chair scraping across the ground. Well, here it is. Arrested before I’ve even done much.

“Sure you’re not interested in seeing the Wards?” Her eyes smiled at me. At least I think it was smiling.

“No, thank you. I’d rather just get this over with.” I stood up myself, preparing to put my hands behind my back.

“Okay. I’ll see you out then.”

Wait. What? I wasn’t under arrest? “I can go?”

“Yes, of course. We’re all done here.” She swept a hand to gesture to the now open door.

Since I wasn’t under arrest—still confused—I thought I could pose a question. “Oh. Before I go, could you tell me how you contain criminals? I have some glue that might work but I’m struggling to think of ways to deliver it.” I asked as we were exiting the building.

“We use containment foam, it was designed by Dragon.” She grabbed a grenade from her bandolier. “We use grenades, or the spray guns you’ve probably noticed on the PRT officers around here. It works like a flamethrower does but with no ignition.

It’s sprayed as a liquid before it expands into foam, letting us carry around quite a lot in a small space, and is perfectly breathable if it covers someone's mouth, or nose. It’s also resistant to temperatures high or low, electricity, impacts, and tends to stop the people inside getting any leverage to break free. Sticky, too. Wiping it off just makes it expand as more is exposed to the air.”

She sheathed the grenade and continued. “We can’t hand any out to independents. If you joined the Wards you’d be given access to it, as well as plenty of other resources.”

My head was spinning with ideas. The practical applications of containment foam were huge. A dozen ideas danced in my head. “Oh, um, thank you for the explanation. I’ll be going now.” I inclined my head and left. Probably rude, but I had to get these ideas down right now.

Not being under arrest was kind of the greatest. Prison probably wouldn’t have let me make a new nest or hoard. Miss Militia's explanation of containment foam was perfect.

A spray system to deliver it was easy enough. Having the foam in liquid form before it was sprayed also solved the issue of it becoming stuck inside its tank or the hose. Genius. As expected of Dragon. I’d heard tales of her, she was the greatest inventor in the world, capable of working with anyone’s tech. I could only hope I was even a fraction as cool as her.

I hurried to work the moment I got back home.

First, I made the glue into a liquid form. This meant melting it down, which I did outside to avoid any fumes. This would be placed inside a tank attached to my back, which would fire it out of the hose. I could have a mouth piece for manual firing, my main snag was that I had no clue what to do for the automatic firing. A deodorant can wasn’t going to cut it for the constant stream I wanted. Short bursts in Fufu were fine, not for this though.

I found myself distracted from that project. My healing paste was flickering ideas in my head. I needed more marshmallows.

For a third time I parted with a selection of my lovely collection of coins. This bag of marshmallows wouldn’t go towards making healing paste. I had a decent amount of that already. Instead, it’d be used to make containment grenades. The properties would be close to the original containment foam.

With another pot, I started to create my new concoction. Stirring it around made me feel like a witch. Double bubble, boil and trouble. I don’t know how that goes.

Early afternoon sunlight beat down on me as I finished my work. I patted the final clump into shape. I tried to keep them as close to the original marshmallow shape as I could since it was cute. I had about twenty of them. Each was soft, pillowy, like a marshmallow. They could be picked up and tossed around just fine with no one being the wiser. I’d placed stones inside to give them a bit more heft. They should be capable of being thrown a respectable distance.

To activate, you would squish it in your hand before throwing it away. Squishing them will activate a chemical chain reaction that will cause the marshmallow to rapidly expand in about three seconds. They should inflate to the size of a beach ball. A tiny terror disguised as a cute candy. Criminals beware!

I repurposed a scavenged belt to contain the marshmallow grenades. Miss Militia’s own bandolier had inspired me. I used paper cups cut in half to keep the marshmallows secure, as well as a bit of paper to stop them falling out. I could tear off the paper and withdraw the marshmallow in the same motion. Then crush and throw.

I needed to make some sort of sprayer to deliver the now liquid containment glue. The idea didn’t stick with me for very long as I moved on to fixing my breastplate.

When I was making it I’d make a few extra pieces with the intention to double plate. They were the wrong size for the top slant of the breastplate but could be cut down with some effort. Fortunately only the top half was dented, the rest was fine. I also added a logo. It was crude, misshapen, and only vaguely looked like the raccoon I intended it to. Overall, incredibly cute if not poorly done. By the time I was done it was mid afternoon. Not quite sunset just yet but close. I didn’t have a watch here.

I fashioned a ruler, a stick, and a trash can lid into a sundial. Sunset should be around six PM right now. It was maybe March thirteenth if I’d been keeping track of days right. According to my brand new sundial, it was about half five. Not much daylight left. I took a swig of fizzy lemonade soda I found while walking home from the PRT building. Someone had just left the half full two litre bottle lying around. Their loss.

Hard work was thirsty work. My breastplate was back to working order, I had new marshmallow grenades, Cici was unfortunately lost to Armsmaster clutches. My power and I both lamented the loss of that engine. I’d forgotten to ask for her back, and Miss Militia hadn’t brought it up while I was there. Maybe it was my fault, I had tried to get out as fast as I could.

I could get it back when I became a Ward.

Gloves weren’t thrown away often, not the thick welding kind anyway. I had tons of the plastic ones that surgeons wore. Random buildings would just have a whole bunch of them in their dumpster, no idea why. They didn’t seem like hospital buildings, just random factories.

My power kindly informed me I could make leather from roadkill. Which felt wrong. Animals, even dead ones, were off-limits. I could work with the dead, I’d learnt that when my power was happy to work with bones, but that didn’t mean I wanted to. It was disrespectful. For now, I’d suffer without gloves. In the future, if I find a good enough knife, I might be able to turn old leather goods into other things. My current equipment wouldn’t be enough.

Tools made my power sulk. I’m not sure how else to explain it. If I tried to think of tools to make, my power would slump the ground, groaning and moaning that it didn’t want to. I could push it enough to give me ideas for tools but it felt like it was making a ‘harumph’ noise when I did. It seems it wanted me to do without them as much as I could. Already existing tools received no complaints from my power.

So, I’d need to find a knife the old-fashioned way.

My radio had been spewing idle chatter as I toiled away the day. My ears perked up as I heard a familiar code, a cape fight. Two in two days, score! Armsmaster, with Kid Win for support, was currently in pursuit of the Undersiders. They’d robbed a casino or something, didn’t matter. I had no clue who they were, but a cape fight was a cape fight.

I grabbed my gear as fast as I could. Fuck, I wish I had a bike. Running it is.

Running after a high-speed chase was not feasible. I wasn’t stupid enough to try. Listening to the radio gave me a rough layout of which direction they were headed in. The casino was situated on the outskirts of Brockton Bay. Armsmaster’s pursuit had taken him away from Captain’s Hill and into the Downtown area. My base was in the North End. There was no way I was going to get close enough in time, not with the direction they’re heading.

I was already out of breath and panting by the time I reached midtown. Damnit, I really needed to run more, or create some transport.

They were turning towards Kittery now, further away than I ever could hope to reach. Fuck.

Kid Win was hit by something according to the radio. Hellhound’s dogs? No medical attention was requested so he was probably fine. Ugh. What should I do? I could go walk all the way over. The chase would be over by the time I was halfway, it already sounded like it was winding down. No visual on the Undersiders, a crackly voice informed me.

I trudged along. Even missing out on the chase I could still help in some way. Following the trail of destruction should net me some information about the group. I could ask civilians what they saw and what they knew. No idea why I hadn’t ever thought about it before.

When I feed the homeless I should ask them about what capes they know about. Can always trust the downtrodden to keep their ear to the floor. I knew my local area well enough to avoid most gang places.

That’s another thing, I knew of some gang hideouts. Still not sure what gang, but I did know where they were based. I could see if any of them are still active in my civilian identity some time.

I retraced to the start of the chase, the Ruby Dreams casino. Getting all the way out of town to the casino was outside of my tired legs desires. The next best thing then, Captain’s Hill. The chase had taken them past Captain’s Hill and into Downtown. There wasn’t much in the way of a trail of destruction. If there was any, I couldn’t see it now. Traffic was moving along at its usual sluggish pace. I tried to visualise the path taken, remembering the street names mentioned and placing them onto a virtual map. A real map would be nice to get, even if it meant I’d be spending money on it. How much did a map cost anyway?

I followed the imaginary route and struck gold. Shards of ceramic, metal, and plastic were littered around the street. This must have been where Kid Win was hit. Hellhound’s dogs were powerful, I marked the thought down in my notebook. I scooped up the pieces into a piece of cloth. It was just an exploded outer shell for whatever device had been hit, most likely his hoverboard.

A glint from the drain caught my eye.

There was definitely something down there, something bigger than the shards up here. I removed the slatted iron grate with no resistance. No flashlight, needed to remedy that. I jotted that down too in my notebook.

Squinting I could make out a lumpy metal device with a soft red glow beneath it. Kid Win’s tech no doubt.

I pulled a length of twine from one of my utility pouches and stuck one of the metal shards to one end using my containment glue. I folded the twine to the shard a few times to keep it secure. Another dab of containment glue on the base of the shard. I lowered the rescue rope down the drain. The twine was just shy of reaching the device. I shimmied onto my stomach and leaned partially into the drain.

Don’t think about how it’s a tiny little cramped space with no way out if you fall down.

The rescue rope met its goal and I gave it a small tug to test if it was attached. Success! I pulled the whole thing out, my glue was incredibly sticky. Stickier than containment foam maybe?

Kid Win’s device was beautiful, even covered in gunk. The whole thing hummed with potential. So many ideas. So many possibilities in this one thing.

I clutched it close to me, glancing towards the people around me. They were watching me, confused, greedy. They wanted this. They wanted to take my new treasure away from me. No. I couldn’t let that happen.

I cradled the device in my right arm and grabbed Fufu with my left. She was already loaded with stink pellets.

I sprinted as fast as my tired legs could carry me, not stopping for anyone or anything. If they didn’t have the opportunity to take it from me, then they couldn’t. Just keep running.

Back home I secured my base. Chairs blocked handles, sheets to cover up windows, alarms primed and ready. I had set up alarms around each of my bases. Simple things, just tripwires that would jostle cans inside the building itself.

I peeked through the windows a few times to double check if I was being followed. Nothing. No one. Good, I was safe. We were safe.

I placed her down on the island counter between the two rooms. Using some tissue I wiped her clean of the gunk. She was actually twins. One part was a battery, she received energy from outlets, sunlight, or biomatter. Her sister was a guidance system, intended to help navigate, aim, or direct other devices. These had probably been from one of his laser blasters if I was understanding the system right.

Two for the price of one, a great deal. If only I had more. I needed to flush away the ideas I had for adding these to parts of the power armour Gallant was wearing. Those did me no good right now. Right now, I need to think of things I could make with these. Either independently or together.

There was so much potential in both of them. Even one alone led me down a rabbit hole of wondrous possibilities. What did I need?

• A vehicle for one, or at least some form of transport.
• Maybe power armour? I’d had an idea for an exoskeleton in the past.
• A forge to melt down metals so I can make the rest of my armour.
• A sprayer for the glue.
• Tools

My power groaned at the last suggestion, but did oblige me.

I could use the battery to make a recharging hub, then I can make all of my devices interface with that and constantly have power. No more needing to replace batteries or plug into outlets. I should be able to get a decent amount of charge per tool, letting me charge them before heading out for whatever activities I had planned that night. I could still use batteries as a backup in case I was out for a really long time.

Then, I could modify some power tools to use the charge from the recharging hub. It wasn’t exactly making tools, but it was probably the best I was gonna get. I still had the old idea of a plasma cutter or a modified saw blade.

Finding power tools wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe the Dockworkers threw them away?

Using Efef, the Lifegiver, as a recharging hub was the most practical option. She wouldn’t be tethered to just one device, which would have been a sad existence for her. Elel, the Navigator, her sister, would be better off either being part of my helmet to work as guidance for all of my devices, or attached to an individual strong device. She was fine with either idea.

Riri, the Energy Oracle, would become the new base for Efef. I attached them together. Efef supplied the power, and Riri would supply the input. The whole process was stupid simple.

I needed some kind of feed for Efef so I could give her plant matter, for now she’d have to settle with sunlight. Using the outlets would draw too much attention to my hidden base of operations. I made some solar cells out of bottle glass, fibreglass, and spare wires. Hooking them up on the roof shouldn’t draw too much attention. They were small, unnoticeable. If I ever expanded to a full array then I’d need to hide them, which would reduce their effectiveness.

Efef was now drawing in power, and her roommate Riri was ready to charge anything placed inside her microwave tummy. Charging Coco would be impossible with this current setup, yet another thing I needed to expand upon. It shouldn’t be too hard to make some latches that are connected to the system. I could then hook Coco onto those latches when I was back at base. She’d need some modifications, same as everything else, to interface with Efef and Riri. I needed a better name for the duo. Eiri? Efiri? Rifef? The Lifegiver Oracle?

Elel was a simpler task. I pried out the sunglasses I hadn’t had a chance to use yet, from my helmet. I made a paste out of the sticky stuff you found on computer parts, thermal paste I think, and slathered it onto the glasses. As it settled, I hooked up the Navigator to the frame of the sunglasses.

She looked like a battery pack, a small rectangle divided into two separate hills. A red, glowing line ran around her flatter edge. She had three ports. One input, one output, and a charging port. The input would be capable of providing different information to an interface based on the code used. I didn’t know programming, heck I didn’t even own a computer, I’d have to settle for whatever stuff she already had programmed onto her.

Making my current stuff, and future stuff, work with already programmed stuff wouldn’t be hard at all. My power was made for using things other people had created.

I finished crafting Elel onto the glasses and replaced them back inside my helmet. I could charge her using a wire in the charging port, obviously, but I’d need to modify Efiri to accept those types of inputs. Yet another thing to modify on them. They would be worth the trouble.

I flicked Elel to life before placing the helmet on. The paste across the sunglasses shimmered as she sent jolts of information through them. At first it was a blurry, unseeable mess. Then the glasses cleared up fully, giving me a perfect image. It wasn’t even tinted by the sunglasses shade, though it should still provide glare protection.

Her interface was pretty simple. There weren’t any weapons currently attached or detected to display their information. A lot of numbers were shown and then hidden as they had no way to be used. She could track things like temperature, wind direction, light levels, vibrations, heat signatures, and a lot more. Elel was more than just navigation, she was tracking. Kid Win had barely scraped the surface of what she was capable of. Tacking her onto a laser gun for basic aiming was a criminal offence.

“You poor thing.” I patted the side of the helmet she was under. I’ll treat her right. She’ll get to do all that with time. Some I could even do right now.

I set to work, hooking up detectors that ran down my body. They looked like simple little nubs attached to wires. I kept the wires flush with my skin or coat to stop them from being cut easily. Two nubs were attached to the back of my hands, in the future they’d attach to gloves. They’d let the Navigator send subtle signals to adjust my aim on the fly. As well as display external factors such as temperature and wind direction.

One ran down into my radio. I’d need to attach it each time I suited up but it was worth it. Elel would be able to detect radio signals around me using theradio, letting me figure out the locations of anyone using communicators. She could also display a map of the local area already, letting me overlay the information onto that.

Another was on the palm of my left hand, my firing hand. This is how I’d let her see my weapons information. Not every weapon would be capable of displaying ammo feeds, or relative charge. I’d still be using mundane equipment with no electricity.

The final one was hooked up to the middle of my chest. It would display my heartbeat, as well as some estimates on my current body temperature.

I really wanted to give her more. If I had some surgical tools I could hook her up into my muscles themselves, as well as my organs. Then I’d have almost complete data on my entire body's functions.

For the remainder of the day I modified my devices that demanded power, like Coco and Elel to work with Efiri. Now they could be charged up whenever I needed, no more hoping I don’t run dry on batteries.

Satisfied, I turned in for the night.

Armsmaster still owed me Cici’s parts. I’d talk to him after I claimed some more victories. I hope Kid Win will be understanding about using his tech, he had thrown it away after all.

I had big plans for the future. I dreamt of a blacksmith forging armour, and a knight in an exoskeleton mech.

Chapter Text

Exoskeletons were surprisingly simple. I could make the entire thing with no tools as long as the pieces were the right size. Given enough scrap I could pick and choose which would work. ‘Given enough scrap’ being the key phrase. Finding a big box full of plates and pipes was easier said than done. 

My initial thought was the Trainyard. The Trainyard was full of abandoned trains, as the name suggested. My issue came in that they were mostly modern trains, and generally were box cars, not engines. Steam engine trains were chock full of pipes, like tentacles hidden under their carapace. Modern trains were full of mouth-watering parts, but lacking in as many pipes. 

There was also the Trainyard Protector; a cape who’d taken up residence there and claimed it as their own. A tinker, I think. Maybe we could talk shop? Probably unlikely to let me claim their parts for my own. 

Next thought was the Boat Graveyard. There were a whole slew of boats that were floating in the water by the docks, a couple were even beached. Boats had lots of pipes and plates, exactly what I needed. If they didn’t, then the Trainyard was right next door anyway.

Getting inside of one shouldn’t even be too hard if I whip up an extra batch of the stuff I used on Hookwolf (and the surrounding environment and heroes). I had a few lighter fluid canisters with a little left in each, which was the main component. 

Before I left for the Boat Graveyard, I needed to make that acid as well as finish up a few things. Sewing up my coat was one, which took all of five minutes. Another was to tape together the hole in my chain mail. Fixing it up entirely with new tabs felt pointless. Melting down the excess I had for actual chains was a better idea, with my forge being less than a day away.

Last, but not least, was that I needed transport. Material wise, I needed a ton of stuff. Slings of cloth could be worn over my shoulders to carry a high amount of pipes. A wagon would work best for the metal sheets, or a sled. A sled was easier conceptually. 

I fitted some planks together using my glue. Tricycle wheels were already part of my hoard. I picked out the two best ones then screwed them onto a pipe that was also glued to the planks. Last, I added a line of cloth to act as the pulley system. Not bad for five minutes of work. It was a row of planks with raised edges - to keep everything in - and a metal bar with wheels screwed on. 

This thing was definitely going to fall apart. Should hold until I’ve done what I need, that’s all that matters.

…

Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I stared up at the towering titans looming on the ocean. Ocean salt had eroded the edges of most of them, and a few had washed ashore in the low tides. It was surreal standing so close. I’d seen the Boat Graveyard all of my life, heard of it all my life, but I’d never been this close before. It was kind of sad. This place represented the loss of a lot of jobs, the Dockworkers Association especially. In a way, it matched their current state. 

My dad lost his job when the shipping jobs dried up. It made him bitter, resentful. I hated him for the person he was, and I hated this place for making him like that. I spat on the ground. Good riddance to him. 

Deeper into the Graveyard, closer to the beached boats, I saw three people. Asian, wearing gang colours, red and green. Initially I wasn’t sure what gang had those colours. I knew what tags to look out for, but not the colours. Based on their skin tone I was going to guess ABB. Money on me being right. 

“Shit, cape.” I heard one mutter as they saw me approach. No reason to be rude to them, they were just hanging out and I’d interrupted that. I couldn’t arrest them for a perceived crime, or a future or past one. 

“Hey, no need to worry. Not here to arrest you or anything, just hunting for scrap.” Waving them a friendly greeting I gestured to the sled I was pulling. “Just need to load this up and I’ll be out of your hair.” I looked over to one on the right, who was bald. “Or chest hair, either way.” I joked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

The youngest looking of the group, on the left, smiled before catching himself.

“Yeah? What, you a Tinker?” the middle one asked. He was maybe in his late teens, or early twenties. Overall, pretty handsome. A nasty looking scar ran down his neck. Bald guy was taller than the handsome middle guy, and had a round face with chubby cheeks. Young guy was scrawny but about the same height as the middle guy, they looked sort of related too, same chin cleft. I needed to get their names.

“I think so. That’s one of the power list things, right? Tinker is for futuristic tech. My name is Raccoon Knight, by the way.” 

“Yeah, they make Tinkertech, real versatile. Raccoon Knight?” Middle guy rubbed the light stubble on his chin while licking his upper lip. “Yeah, yeah, I think I heard of you. You hand out healing that smells like sugar, right?” 

He heard of me? “That’s right, my patent pending Marshmallow Healing Balm.” I refrained from patting a container on my side. These were gang members, you had to be careful around them. Showing them your stash would just lead to you having that stolen, along with your life. “You need some? I’d be willing to heal you up if you can show me a ship that has rooms no one’s been in yet.” 

“Seon, I wouldn’t mind a bit of that stuff, my leg still is fucked up.” Young guy spoke, his voice was very melodic. Seon, was this his name, or some kind of title? Seon waved off the young guy. 

“What’s the offer? We just gotta point you to a boat and you’ll give us some?” Seon said.

“No, I won’t be giving you it. You show me a boat and I confirm it. Then, assuming the boat has what I want, I’ll apply some of the stuff to whatever injuries you have.”

“Shrewd business woman.” Bald guy said. He had that sort of gravel you get from smoking too much. It was also the voice that said ‘cape’ earlier. 

“No deal.” Seon shook his head. “After we show you a boat - that you confirm is good - you give us an entire container of it.” 

Buying more marshmallows wasn’t on my to-do list. Losing out an entire container on a fresh batch was going to hurt too much. I really didn’t want to part with any more coins. 

“How about… you buy me the ingredients and I’ll whip up a whole pot of the stuff for you. After you show me to all the rooms and help me haul the stuff out of them. I’ll even go to a few extra rooms so you can get some copper out of it. How’s that?” 

Seon mulled it over. He even conferred with his friends about it. After some hushed whispering he walked over to me. He offered me a hand to shake. I shook it.

“You got yourself a deal, raccoon girl.” 

…

Titans outside, tiny insides. The oppressive corridors of the ship were slanted ever so slightly as to trip you up if you stepped wrong. It didn’t help that most of the floor was ripped out to get to the pipes beneath. Seon rapped his fist against a metal door with a bank vault spinny wheel attached to it. The wall nearby had been pried apart but it didn’t expose the room behind. 

“This one should be fresh. Lu tried to get inside once,” he gestured to the torn apart wall “as you can see, it didn’t work out.” He stepped aside, his hand sweeping out to gesture towards the steel door. “Impress us, oh magnificent marsupial.” 

“Raccoons aren’t marsupials, dude.” Mark, formerly the ‘young guy’, said. 

“Yeah? What are they then, smartass?” 

“I don’t fucking know, something else.”

“Yeah, real clever knowing a half-fact.” 

I let their argument fade into the background. I fished out a bottle I had filled with the metal-eating acid. This did nothing to flesh - Armsmaster at least hadn’t seemed burnt - but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. If I dropped this, it would eat right through the floor we were standing on. 

Twisting open the cap, I took a deep breath to steady my hands. I splashed a glob up against the walls by thrusting the bottle forward a bit. Droplets dribbled down onto the ground, singing through the metal. No matter. The main payload hit my mark, within seconds it ate through the metal, leaving open a gap the size of a beach ball. An unusual green tint marked the edge of the metal. That hadn’t happened to any metal in the Hookwolf fight.

“Holy shit!” Seon exclaimed as he looked inside the hole. “This is serious shit, raccoon girl. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He smirked at me. I smiled back, even though he couldn’t see it. 

“Yep, I’m a force to be reckoned with. Hookwolf was fed this same medicine.” Bragging, sure, but earned bragging. My chest swelled with pride.

“Bullshit, no way.” Lu, the bald guy, said.

“Oh, oh, I heard about this. I was telling you this yesterday. Racist prick got got, a metal eater let Spear Guy tranq him.” Mark said. His sing-song voice felt weird with his word choices. “That was seriously you, RK?” 

“Loaded a bunch of this stuff up into a drone that delivered it right onto him.” I was beetroot red under my helmet, praise was weird. “Also, sorta melted Armsmaster’s, that’s ‘Spear Guy’, armour.” 

“Smelly bitch like you took down Hookwolf? I don’t buy it for a second.” Lu sneered at me. Smelly? I smelt fine. I washed my hands like two days ago, and showered less than a week ago. 

“Ey. No disrespect to the Wolf Killer.” Seon shoved Lu in the shoulder. It wasn’t a hard shove, not really meant to move him. Lu just looked annoyed but shrugged. 

“Whatever, man. Let’s just get this over with.” 

“He’s right, better we get out of here fast. Yeah, some bitch with a stupid name likes to shop here.”

I nodded and melted the last portion of the wall.

…

We ended up going to three rooms. Two for me, one for those three. They weren’t big rooms. I imagined most of them as being cabins before they were emptied out. Inside they were fresh for the picking. No one had touched these rooms in the couple of decades the ships had been here. 

My new friends and I pried open parts of the wall, or burned open the parts that couldn’t be pried, and collected our plunder. Both slings at my side were fat with metal pipes. They counter-balanced one another and weren’t as heavy as I imagined. Still sucked, though. 

My sled was harder to fill. It was too big to pull through the slanted corridors. We had to group metal sheets of the same size together to carry out at a later date. Meaning many trips, and tired legs. Having the extra people around sped up the process by a significant margin. On my own I might have got half a room done before tiring out. The final room was all for them, which they said they’d claim later on. I opened it up and left them to it. 

Mark and Seon were both sociable, happy to chat with a stranger who just barged into their afternoon. We spoke about where they liked to hang out. Good places to eat. They blanched at my meal plan of ‘whatever I find in the dumpster that day’ but didn’t judge me for it. Mark had been homeless for a bit after he ran away from home. 

I spoke a bit about leaving home too, but the wound was still fresh. Neither of them pressed me for details.

Lu seemed annoyed at me, and at Seon. I wasn’t sure what their dynamic was. He listened to Seon without question while grumbling the entire time he followed orders. There were a lot of cruel glances thrown Seon’s way, and sometimes mine. I wanted to speak to him more. He rebuked any attempts to get him to talk. 

We toiled away for a few hours, earning our fill. Now, parting ways, we had to trust each other. They were initially hesitant to let me out of their sights, having not yet delivered on the healing. Seon waved it off, saying the metal was enough good will to earn me a rendezvous; a fancy word for meeting, he told me. They’d go to the store to buy my shopping list of ingredients, then they’d meet me with the stuff to cook it in an hour. 

It seemed like a fair deal so I agreed.

…

“Hey, racoon girl. Good to see you didn’t bail. Got you a sandwich.” He tossed me a foil wrapped object, presumably a sandwich. I caught it then opened it up. “Didn’t know what you liked so it’s mostly meat.” 

Wow, I’d never seen a baguette sandwich so complete. I used to make my own back at my mom’s apartment, that was regular bread though. This was a thick, crusty bread with no mould, no bite marks or anything. “Thank you. I’m not picky when it comes to food.” 

We walked to a factory I knew still had power. They were wary it might be an ambush. I’d apparently ‘proven I’m trustworthy’ enough to stop their worries. At least Seon wasn’t worried. Lu still looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

Music shook the building as we got closer. It was a mess of at least five different songs. 

“Shit, sorry. It wasn’t occupied before.” 

Lu clicked his tongue. “Just some pond scum. We can deal with them.” 

Seon shook his head. “Nah. No fighting. Bosses orders.” 

“Come on man, we got a fucking Tinker with us, it’ll be easy.” Lu turned to me. “Those guys in there? They’re scum of the earth. Selling drugs to kids and shit. Don’t you wanna take them down?” 

“Shut it man, we ain’t fighting.” Seon said.

They sold drugs to kids? Pretty sure all the gangs sold to people my age, didn’t we count as kids? I shrugged. “I’d love to, but I don’t have my heavy hitters with me. No crowd control. That party sounds like it’s got a whole mess of people. Doesn’t matter how cool you are, ten people rushing you will leave you as a stupid corpse.” Hopefully that’d appease him.

“Arm us.” Lu said. He chopped a hand into his palm. “We use your Tinkertech and we can take them out for good.” 

Seon stepped in front of us, facing towards Lu. He shook his head. “Yeah, we ain’t doing that. We’ll call up some boys later on to see if it’s still going, and we can deal with it then if we need to. Got it?” 

Deal with it? Were they going to kill these people? I don’t think I could let that happen. I also don’t think I could take on these three at once. Coco was back at base, too cumbersome to navigate ships with. After dropping off the metal I’d come straight back out without grabbing her. Stupid. Fufu was resting against my back, loaded with stink pellets. I wasn’t confident in my quick draw.

“Fucking fine, whatever man.” Lu raised his hands, backing off. “Can I go back to base?”

Mark looked like he was caught between his parents arguing. Seon shrugged. “Yeah, fuck it, go.” He sighed, scratching his head.

Lu walked away.

“Yeah, sorry about that. And uh, don’t worry, we’re not gonna actually send someone. Just wanted to shut him up. It’s just a fucking party, man, pigs can deal with it.”

I nodded. It made sense. Lu didn’t seem like he was gonna take a hard no for an answer. He’d been chafing at the orders all day. I’d call the cops on my way back at base to break this up, just to make sure.

“Anyway, yeah. You know another place, raccoon?”

“Think I do, follow me.” 

…

Our short walk to the next location was in complete silence. We went to an apartment block that retained power. One of my sleeping places was here. 

On the third floor were a set of rooms that had been completely blocked off by furniture. Removing the blockade wasn’t easy, it was liable to crush you if you tried. The fire escape on the back of the building was close enough to one of those rooms to reach the window. It wasn’t directly attached to the fire escape but could be reached by laying a plank across towards it. That plank I kept behind a dumpster in the alleyway the fire escape was located in. 

The other, more accessible rooms were occupied by a lot of different people. Mostly drug users. Even walking right in front of them while yelling wouldn’t get them to notice you. The people here were deep in their highs. I wasn’t sure why someone was still paying the power bill for this place. Maybe it was the people who operated the drug lab in the basement. Maybe it was someone so rich they didn’t even notice it on their bill. 

No one here seemed to even notice. Most of the bulbs were smashed to bits. There wasn’t anything in the way of appliances to use power. Seon and Lu didn’t seem to care about the condition of the building or the people. We walked through the halls in silence.

Finding an empty room wasn’t too hard if you went further up. We moved what remained of the furniture to blockade the door. Seon didn’t want any random people walking in and trying to rob us. 

After about half an hour I’d brewed up a large pot worth of Marshmallow Healing Balm. MHB. I hope that wasn’t a brand already. The whole process was watched with scrutiny. Neither of them marked anything down though. I wasn’t sure how they expected to recreate the process when they didn’t note down cooking times or amounts. Maybe they didn’t want to steal my recipe. I was under the assumption they’d take word of it back to their boss. It was implied as part of the deal that they were allowed to try to remake it. 

Oh well, no skin off my back.

After that, we parted ways. I walked back home, taking a circling route to avoid them potentially following me. 

I was figuratively drooling looking over my haul. It wasn’t a diverse set of scraps, entirely steel sheets, and a mix of copper and iron pipes, but it was sparking ideas in my brain like crazy. This set of scraps had the potential for a ton of cool stuff. Ninety percent of it was going towards my exoskeleton. 

My power seemed conflicted. Every time it bought up an idea for something I could do, it’d snap back to the exoskeleton like it was trying to stay focused. 

Exoskeleton was more important, right now. It’d lead to me getting my forge ready, which would lead into infinitely more ideas than this box of scraps would.

Tinkertech was what Seon had called the things I made. I liked the sound of it, maybe I’d use it more. 

I tinkered away. 

…

Pipes formed a wireframe of limbs. Two arms, two legs, human, obviously. They connected at the shoulder blades, at the small of the back, at the upper thighs, at the feet, and at each joint to plates shaped like hexagons. Ports, currently empty, were attached to the shoulderblades. They were modular, intended to be filled at a later date. 

It stood upright on its own. A me-shaped hole filled the empty air. The connectors were resizable, I intended to wear this into combat in the future once my armour was complete. I stepped inside the skeleton.

Metal, and nylon straps - where I could afford it - slotted together to bind the second set of bones to me. I slid my feet in like putting on shoes. My hands fitted into a modified pair of gloves, pipes adorning the back of my hand.

I felt fucking awesome! 

I tested the joints, throwing a few punches to see how quick they reacted. Sluggish, but I could feel the extra weight and power they gave me. My next version would be made from a custom alloy, just like my armour. 

Each step clunked as my metal shoes hit the floor beneath me. Vibrations shook the rest of the suit, making it feel unsteady, loose. It wasn’t. Just the nature of its design. 

Going outside I tested the suit by lifting a barrel. Information fed to me by my power told me it should net me about an extra thirty pounds of weight. I could upgrade the suit to maybe close to fifty in the future. Lifting the barrel outside of the suit was something I could do with a bit of effort. It wasn’t easy. I’d rolled it here instead of carrying it. 

I barely even felt the weight as I heaved the barrel up. My back didn’t even hurt from the lift. 

Coolest. Thing. Ever!

…

Hauling rocks - even with my awesome new suit - was tiring work. Taking care of myself wasn’t even a question. I needed frequent breaks or I’m pretty sure I’d die of exhaustion. 

Orange juice was nice, even if it was a week out of date. Avoiding mould in drinks was harder than on food. Can always eat around mouldy chunks of food, not so much with liquids. 

Mould could be used to make a lot of neat stuff, actually. Penicillin was one. I could also make a self-replicating agent that could be used in other formulas, such as my acid. Acid that ate metal and produced more of itself was a neat concept. The Boat Graveyard wouldn’t stand a chance against that stuff. 

More importantly, I could add it to my MHB. My grandma used to have a sourdough starter, a glass jar full of a really gross tasting yeast. I could have a healing balm starter. Feed it biomass to grow more of it. That way I could give anyone I wanted some. Each piece would be capable of growing more of itself. You just needed to feed it, like a marshmallow pet.

This was good stuff. Mould was incredibly easy to find, even if I didn’t only need to make the base a handful of times. 

Don’t get distracted. Finish the forge.

Right, right. I jotted down the ideas and got back to work.

…

A huge stack of rocks in varying sizes were piled up together to create a furnace. Clay, mud, and grass filled the gaps. I’d cheated, using glue to hold most of the rocks together. Once I set the first flame, the clay and mud should harden enough to keep everything in place even if the glue melts. Which I wasn’t sure it would, but better not to leave it to chance. My power thought it could melt with the heat, but wasn’t too sure itself. 

There, there, power, sometimes we don’t know things. Just a chance to learn.

The mouth of the forge was placed against the brick portion of my house. Most of the outer walls were wood, with the exception of the one out of the back door. 

This place was intended for some kind of business, the buildings running off down to the left of the street were similar in design. A few of the buildings further down still had active storefronts. As you got closer and closer to this building the more boarded up they became. 

The chimney ran up the side of the wall, nearly reaching the drain pipe. It was going to be obvious when I was using this. 

I had chosen this place for its low foot traffic, as well as the fact it was nestled in an odd part of town. We were still technically in the North End if you looked at a map. Locals would disagree this part of the city counted for the location. We were nearing the edge of town, almost out, not quite in. It was pretty close to the Trainyard by distance, but was hidden away by the buildings around here. 

Smoke, no matter what, drew attention. Especially in a place like this, that had no reason to have smoke. Shit. I hadn’t thought this through. 

Building the exoskeleton suit, setting up the forge, it’d all seemed like such a good idea. I never even took the time to think it through. 

How was I supposed to forge things without a forge? Damnit. 

I went to rub my face into my hands, cold metal touched my face. Right, the suit. I stored it away inside the building. Slumping down into my nest, I thought things over.

The Wards would be an easy option, they might already have the alloy I had in mind created. 

I could potentially find someone who’d be willing to sponsor me. In return for a bit of my alloy they’d let me use their forge. No idea who’d fit that bill.

New Wave didn’t seem to recruit outside of their family, at least I’m pretty sure.

What other Tinkers, besides the Protectorate ones, were in the city? There was… I wasn’t sure. People spoke about a TV show sometimes with a Tinker who liked to recreate games. I wish that guy was real. I didn’t know much about games but I was a fast learner. Raccoon Knight and Video Game Dude, ready to make cool robot mechas. 

I rolled over, snuggling into the warmth of the insulation foam. Sighing didn’t feel like enough, so I wriggled about for a while to vent the frustration. Blegh. Wards were the only option.

I definitely needed more arrests and to fix more stuff before I officially joined. However, a tour of their facilities was offered to me. I wasn’t sure if that invitation was an open one. What if the bridge was already burned? 

I wriggled some more.

Worst thing was that they said no. Actually, I could think of a thousand worst things. They could laugh at me. Legend himself could come in right at that moment, seeing my lack of proper armour, and join in on laughing at me. Behemoth could come crawling out of the ground just to join in, then use the energy from the laughing to turn me into a pudding. 

Okay. That last one was sort of scary, no need to be dumb, thoughts. 

No Endbringer would even bother coming to this waste of a town. Legend also wouldn’t be seen dead here, for probably the same reasons. 

Was that insulting to the heroes that did live here? I lived here, and the people I’d met weren’t all bad. Brain, stop being stupid. This city is full of people just trying to get by, it’s not their fault we’re a port town in a post-Leviathan world.

I jumped to my feet. I still had some daylight left, let’s head to the PRT.

The logo on my breastplate mirrored the building’s own. 

“Hello, little sister.” it greeted her.

“Hello, older sister.” my raccoon emblem said back.

Stop distracting yourself. Go inside. 

Walking in I was met with a lighter crowd than before. A few obvious tourists gawked at me. I probably looked a whole lot cooler with my plate fully intact, as well as that hole in my chain mail fixed. I saw a couple extra suits milling around, giving me wary glances. 

My weapons had stayed at home to give the right impression. This time, I at least had Elel with me. My heart rate was one-hundred-and-twenty beats per minute, which was higher than normal. It spiked up to one-twenty-five as I realised I was panicking. 

Deep breaths.

Three seconds in. Three seconds out. Gallant’s advice rang through my head. 

Calm.

I approached the receptionist desk as the attendee ushered me over. It was a man this time, middle-aged, full, blonde hair tied into a bun, and heavy laugh lines etched into his face. 

“Are you here to join the Wards? We weren’t expecting anyone.” his voice was pretty high for a full grown man.

“Oh. Uh, no I was here too, um. I was offered a tour last time. I turned it down, since I was, I was… busy at the time. Yeah, busy. And I was wondering if it’d still be possible to see the Wards?” Nailed it.

“I’m not sure. Let me call someone. Take a seat right over there.” he pointed to a set of plastic seats. I sat and waited.

A few minutes later Armsmaster stepped out of the elevator and walked over to me at a good clip. “Raccoon Knight.” he said, then smiled at me, a nice smile. “How about that tour?” he nodded his head towards the elevators. 

A tour from Miss Militia might have melted my brain just from pure fangirling. Armsmaster was a newer appreciation, so I think I could hold out. “Oh, sure, I’d love to.” I stood up and followed him to the elevator. We stepped inside and the door closed behind us. 

Mirrors lined the back elevator wall. Tilting my head a bit netted me a full view of the back of Armsmaster. His power suit was a deep blue, with silver highlights, the same silver his visor was. I inched forward to view the front of his suit. A symbol was fitted to his chest, his own helmet. It sort of looked like I was copying him with my own emblem. Shit, I wasn’t opposed to the idea but I didn’t want him to think I was stealing his look. 

“I got the idea for my emblem off the PRT logo on the building, I’m not copying you or anything.” I leant forward a bit to talk to his face. He was taller than me by a lot. 

“Huh?” he glanced at me, I guessed the light frown on his face was confusion? “Oh. Don’t worry about it. It’s common for heroes to put an emblem on their chest. It puts out a forward front, showing the world your logo.” He nodded to himself. 

The doors slid open. I hadn’t even realised we were moving. Armsmaster stepped out, his suit wasn’t as loud as my exoskeleton. I also realised that my power was brimming with excitement. I thought it was my heart beating in my chest, but my beats-per-minute were back to one-hundred. Why did it get like this around Tinker stuff? Did it want more Tinkertech? 

Of course it did. Even I wanted more Tinkertech. I had scraps. This was a full suit. Yet, my power wasn’t giving me ideas. Maybe it wanted me to break it apart. Nah, feels wrong. Well whatever, power, enjoy your bouncing up and down.

I followed Armsmaster down a corridor. The walls were a metal of some kind, shiny, almost white. We reached a security terminal. Armsmaster lifted up his visor to scan his eyes. I glanced away to not get even a glimpse of his face. 

We waited around for an awkward amount of time. I didn’t dare say anything.

“There aren’t many Wards here right now. If you want to, you can visit my workshop. I’d like to talk about your device you used against Hookwolf.” Armsmaster stayed staring forwards to the door.

“Okay, sure. That sounds good. I didn’t really, you know, think Cici would be that destructive by the way. Sorry, about the damage, and your helmet.”

He blew out his nose harder than usual, a chuckle? “Seesee? You name your inventions? Or is it a designator, like a serial number?” He turned his head towards me, a smile was gracing his lips. The doors silently slid open, as silent as the elevator ride had been. 

“Uhm, it’s a name.” 

Armsmaster nodded, turning his attention to the room before striding inside. I tried to keep up with his much longer gait. 

A dream, that’s what I saw. I’d dreamed about being here, in this room, all my life. Well, it wasn’t this room. A dome wasn’t what I was expecting. Modular walls had been moved around to corner off one portion of the room into separate rooms. The rest was like a spy base. Monitors, computers, and seating filled up the side of the room opposite. Information flooded the screens, and Shadow Stalker sat, with her feet up, observing it all. 

She turned her head towards us, her mask’s impassive face stared right at me. She didn’t have her cloak on right now. I could see her long, straight hair was tied back into a ponytail. It was shorter than my hair, less messy though, also darker. 

She nodded once to me, then turned her attention back to the monitors. Fucking awesome.

Armsmaster headed over to talk to her as another cape approached.

Clockblocker was in full costume, he stood up from a more lounge seating area then walked over to me. Ticking clock faces across his white suit greeted me as he did. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. Raccoon Knight, right? I’m Clockblocker." His voice was energetic. 

“Raccoon Knight. Patent pending. It’s so good to meet you.” I gave him a short bow. He titled his head before curtseying. 

I made an undignified snort which made him laugh. 

“Patent pending, that’s funny. I’m digging your whole knight motif. Are you going for full armour?” his head titled as he walked around me, examining. 

It was kind of embarrassing having a boy check me out so much.

“Uh, yes. I have plans to make a forge, which I’ll then use to make an alloy that’ll make the rest of my armour. Proper chain mail instead of can tabs.” 

“That’s what this is made of?” He lifted up the edge of the chain mail shirt’s sleeve. “I didn’t believe Vista when she told me.” 

I beamed. “Yep. Though it was just a temporary measure while I made the forge. I had to make a whole exoskeleton just to make the thing in the first place.” 

“An exoskeleton? Like a mech suit?” His voice somehow got more excited.

“Not really.” His shoulders slumped. “But, uh, it lets you lift up like thirty pounds more than you usually can. Makes it waaay easier too.” I quickly spilled out the words, I didn’t want him to be disappointed. 

“Huh, neat. I thought exoskeletons were for bugs, learn something new.” he mimed checking his wrist for a watch, then slapped himself lightly on the forehead and craned his neck to view the clock on his stomach. I giggled. “Well, would you look at the time, I gotta get out on patrol. It was nice meeting you, Knight.” 

He rolled his hand as if bowing, in front of himself, I returned a curtesy. This time he snorted.

 Then I was left alone, looking around the Ward’s base. It really was cooler than my dreams.

Armsmaster returned, his hand on my shoulder interrupting my thoughts. “Sorry there aren't any more Wards here. Patrols started recently, you missed them by an hour. Would you like to come visit my workshop?” 

I nodded.

…

Armsmaster’s workshop was a marvel of technology. Tools I could only imagine the uses for were piled up on the workbench. A halberd was stowed on a rack above the bench. Two mannequins, one with a spare suit of power armour were sat at the far end of the room. A computer was on a surprisingly mundane desk, the computer itself looked enhanced but normal at its core. 

Cici, or at least her parts, sat to one side of the workbench. 

Armsmaster gestured to his halberd. “This stores a set of equipment, all miniaturised, of course. I have another, currently folded up into the back of my suit which stores a different set of tools.” 

He picked up a device and started talking about its functions. My attention drifted to a trash can under the desk. It was halfway full. A mostly eaten cereal bar, energy drink cans, lots of paper, a bit of string. Non-crushed energy cans were something of a rarity. For whatever reason, people crushed them up like it owed them money before throwing them away. 

Long cans like that would be good for grenades. Based on my marshmallow grenade designs I think I could use similar properties; mix it up for a timed chemical reaction before throwing it. 

A one-time use ammo system also came to mind. Each can would be both a firing mechanism and the magazine. Fill it up with some kind of scattershot, then attach it to a trigger system to shoot. Replace the can with the next after the first was spent. It’d be costly, full cans like that were a rarity, and the end result would be a shattered bit of aluminium. I could then re-use that in other things, just not the shotgun design. 

Origami mixed with clockwork made for some interesting small contraptions.They could be used to deliver messages and the like long distance. Paper birds with gears from a watch. It was a cute idea, and friendly.

“You’re having Tinker ideas, aren’t you?” Armsmaster spoke, I blinked at the sudden realisation that I’d been stood there staring into space like an idiot. “I saw the signs. The hand twitching, ready to write down ideas, the blank stare at nothing, the not responding to what others are saying. I get like that too, most Tinkers do.” 

He tossed the device he was holding onto the desk, then walked over to the remains of Cici. “I wasn’t sure you were a Tinker, at first. This, while obviously Tinkertech upon examination, didn’t seem like it at first glance. The pieces were all fixed like anyone without powers could do. They fit together like someone without powers could do. But their function? Definitely Tinkertech. I tried to recreate the idea, and it didn’t fly, it didn’t even start. When I used my power, however, I made it work.” 

He opened a drawer and pulled out a tiny paper parasol. A short cord hung out of the bottom, which he pulled. The parasol whirled around making a little whooshing noise. Armsmaster balanced it on a fingertip before pushing it up into the air. Even with his gentle shove, the parasol took flight, fluttering about the workshop. I watched it as it twirled around my head. Eventually it landed onto the computer desk. It wobbled on its pole as the parasol stopped spinning, then it fell down onto its side. 

“Neat.” was all I could figure to say.

“Thank you. Cici, as you called it, is an interesting invention. I’m particularly interested in the corrosive liquid used. First, there’s something more important I need to ask.”

“What’s that?” 

“How are you using Kid Win’s Tinkertech?”

Chapter Text

“He left it! It was abandoned in a drain and I just wanted to give it a new home! Elel and Efef are my friends and you can’t take them away fro-” 

Armsmaster raised a hand to my objections. “You misunderstand. I’m not upset with you. Kid Win went to search for his missing blaster parts and found they were on the move. We traced it back to your… ‘home’ and left it with you. Our plan was to contact you tomorrow, actually, to invite you into the building again.” he took a gentle step forward, somehow light in that heavy-looking armour. “The Wards can help, the Protectorate can help. You’re living in squalor, on your own, in a part of Brockton Bay that only frequents the desperate. The Protectorate is worried about your well-being.” 

Squalor? I was living in luxury compared to my mom’s apartment. Sure I didn’t really have a fridge or anything, but I didn’t need one. 

“Your power,” Armsmaster shook his head, “no. You are important to the Protectorate. Living like you are, it’s not healthy, and we just wish to help you. The Wards program will offer you a home, you’ll be fed, and warm, and we can deal with whatever your parental situation is.” 

My parental situation. A traitorous mom who locked me away in the suffocating closet, and whatever boyfriend-of-the-week felt like doing. Would they really just go away? Could it all be so easy?

“What, what would happen? To them, I mean. I ran away from home.” 

“If you join the Wards, there’ll be a court case to have your custody handed over to us. In the future, we’d try to find you foster parents to take over your care until you came of age. In the meantime, you’d spend it here, in your own room, with access to clean water and food.” 

Would her mom give up without a fight? Would He try to get custody of me?

“I have a dad. I don’t want to go to him. If I agree to join, can you stop Him from getting me?” I blurted out.

Armsmaster nodded. “We’d make it our life’s mission.” 

While that situation was apparently simple, there was the matter of the damages, of putting the rest of the Wards in danger, of me. My power, while I loved it, wasn’t that strong. Rune had gotten away because I couldn’t put her down with my crappy aim. Hookwolf, despite my bragging to Seon and friends, was only dealt with because other heroes were there to assist. I wasn’t even sure if he was dead or not. Try not to think about it. Alabaster equated to a normal human being, and even then I was too stupid to bring zip ties. 

“The damages, and Rune getting, there was Hookwolf too and Alabaster is just normal, but I didn’t have zip ties, and someone had to get to work but they didn’t have their car the next day, and it was because of me, there were not enough arrests and there was too much damage.” I tried to explain as best I could. It was a rambling mess and I wasn’t sure Armsmaster even understood. 

He stepped forward another gentle step while I was rambling. A steel hand placed on my shoulder stopped me short. My breath hitched, tears threatening to escape me.

“Don’t worry. Despite messing up against Rune,” I winced a bit “it led to the arrest of Hookwolf, Alabaster, and Victor. The property damage was negligible compared to the damage Hookwolf had already done, and every person on the street affected had cape insurance or will receive a payout from the PRT. Wards aren’t expected to have many arrests or major villains as part of their quota. You’re setting your expectations of yourself too high.” His words were honey, and I was a fly. Tears were streaming down my face partway through his talking. 

“How am I, and why is the, there was the thing, and I just wanted to.” I’m not sure I was understandable through the sobs. His grip on my shoulder tightened a bit, reassuring. 

“Take the time you need.” 

I cried for a while, maybe about five minutes. Armsmaster offered me some tissues at one point. He never let his hand fall from my shoulder. I wanted to hug him, but I barely knew him. Just some sort of reassurance was nice, which the shoulder squeeze did. When my sobs were beginning to fade, he sat me down on a chair and left to grab me some water. 

“So, um, how do I join the Wards?” I asked after gulping down mouthfuls of water.

He smiled at me. 

Joining the Wards wasn’t as easy as signing a piece of paper, though it did involve a lot of paperwork. According to Armsmaster, my situation also added a lot of steps to the process. Joining when your parents weren’t involved took extra complications, especially to appease some organisation called the ‘Youth Guard’.

Mostly everyone was nice to me. A flurry of faces took up my days, leaving little time to be nice back. I tried, at first, but it became too much when I was dealing with my fifth person in the last seven hours. I felt like a lab rat, poked and prodded at to see how I’d dance. Maybe that was cruel, everyone was just trying to help. 

I was given a lawyer, a chubby woman called Sally Mann. She thinks her parents liked salamanders a lot, which is why they named her that. We laughed over our parents giving us stupid first names with our last names. I liked my name, but it still felt silly with my last name.

I asked about changing it, to whatever my new parent's name would be. She said that when I was officially adopted I could, but my foster parents were a temporary home between them. 

Overall, she was nice and didn’t speak to me like I was an idiot. The same couldn’t be said for the other people involved in the process. There was a member of the Youth Guard, Richard Jordan, who was always condescending towards me. Each sentence out of his mouth was more appropriate for a toddler or a particularly bright dog than for a fourteen-year-old girl. 

I went to school. I knew how to read and write. Why did he act like I couldn’t string together basic sentences? He read that I stopped going to school when I was seven and thought that meant I knew nothing. I could use the tuna fish sandwiches he always ate to make a gas that could burn through his fake hair in seconds. Could he do that? Well, his breath probably could. 

Dealing with him, while unpleasant, was a short part of my days. The rest was spent dealing with the PRT proper. 

I met Emily Piggot briefly. She was a stern woman, very blunt. In no uncertain terms, she told me I was a valuable asset, a potential problem, and that I needed a lot of work with the image department, all in the same sentence. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her, but I appreciated her honesty. 

Spending time with the Wards didn’t seem to be a priority, as I barely saw them at all. My room was currently being restructured, so I was spending my nights at a PRT agent's house. Her name was Heather, and she was pleasant to be around. She had curly red hair that looked too bright to be natural and heavy freckles. 

I don’t think this was her actual home. There weren’t any pictures. All the decorations looked like they came with the place. Like a house on a movie set. Heather never knew what shelf, drawer, or cupboard held what, which further solidified the idea it was more of a safe house. I wasn’t too concerned. 

What I did miss was my stuff. I asked the PRT about it and they said they would recover my Tinkertech. Gathering the rest wasn’t on their to-do list until I insisted that I wouldn’t join if I didn’t have; Every. Single. Piece. 

After a while, I had plastic boxes full of all of my things, except for the forge. It was weird seeing my hoard gathered all into singular places rather than spread out across my den.

Hoarding a lot of stuff isn’t something normal people do, according to every other person I’ve spoken to. Which was kind of surprising, how did they feel secure without knowing they had plenty of things on hand?

I was assigned a therapist, partly for my hoarding ‘problem’ but also to help acclimate me to the hundreds of changes I was required to go through.

Therapists were like doctors but their tools were pencil and paper, and their speciality was the brain. It wasn’t normal for the Wards to even see a therapist consistently. They rotated between them for reasons I wasn’t told. In my case, I was assigned to a therapist that lived in Brockton Bay. It was one of the nicer parts of town, though basically on the outskirts past Captain’s Hill.

Dr Kim was a soft-spoken woman. She had the sort of voice you heard on late-night television. It was excitable while still being quiet. Her face was just as soft, very round. Her glasses were the big circle kind that made her look like a scientist. Sweaters in bright colours with wavy patterns seemed to be all she wore. Every time I went to see her, which was about three times over the initial week, she had a different sweater on. 

She looked Asian, and I wondered if she had ties to the ABB. I’d always heard that every single Asian person was with them. Then again, my mom is an idiot. I dismissed the thought, as well as the gross things my mom would have called her. 

“Last time you were telling me that all of this, the recruitment, it was making you feel dizzy. You were struggling to keep up with every new face, every new idea. How’re you feeling today?” she asked in a gentle tone. When I first met her I thought she was trying to keep me calm, like I was a flight risk. Then I realised that was just how she talked.

I was sitting on a comfortable couch that was a weird cream colour. It reminded me of old milk. One of the pillows was nestled comfortably in between my torso and my legs as I hugged it. Dr Kim was sitting across from me on a padded wooden chair. I wondered if she was comfortable.

“Still dizzy, but getting better. There’s not too many new people anymore, and everything is wrapping up. I still need to meet all the Wards, I’ve only really spoken to Den- to Clockblocker the past few days. It’s not even a real conversation, just him saying hey to me before I leave for Heather's house. Then, I still need to meet with Glenn Chambers. He apparently handles costumes, images, and stuff for the Wards. After that, I gotta meet my foster parents, if there are any. Even then I’ll eventually need to meet someone who might wanna adopt me, which is extra, extra stuff.” I sighed, burying my face into the pillow. “I said there’s not too many anymore but the more I think about it, the more there’s still to do. It’s exhausting.” 

“I understand. You’ve been thrown into the deep end when you just wanted to enjoy the water. Unfortunately, these events are unavoidable. Having them happen sooner than later is for the best. That comfort, of having them out of the way, doesn’t stop you from being exhausted. Did you take my advice of asking for breaks when you need them?” Dr Kim said. I could hear her pen tapping lightly against her leg.

“Yes.” I looked up at her. “No.” I shook my head. “I just find it hard to talk when everyone else is speaking. Interrupting people is wrong. I did start taking more notes but I’m still struggling to write the bigger words.” 

“It’s only been a few days, don’t beat yourself up over not being perfect immediately.” she smiled and readjusted her glasses. Her words echoed the brief conversation I’d had with Armsmaster that started all of this.

“I’m trying not to. I’m just so good at other stuff. It’s frustrating when things are hard.”

“Your power, you mean?” 

“It flows so easily. Every thought just slots into my head and I know how, I know what, I know when. I know the answer to complex physics problems just because they’re a piece of the puzzle to making something new, but I can’t even remember how to write the letter Q properly. I felt so smart before all of this. Now I’m recognising that I know so little.” 

It was frustrating, dealing with things I thought I’d be good at. 

I wasn’t worried about dropping out of school. My mom told me I was too smart for it anyway. 

I wasn’t worried when I looked over the notes I’d taken while scavenging and they’d been scribbles. I could still read them, and remember what they were. 

I wasn’t worried that I didn’t know some words, like rendezvous, because it meant I got to learn them.

So why did they suddenly feel like a problem now? 

“You’ve been alone for a long time. You were neglected, practically a feral child. Now, you’re realising that and it’s coming with these other observations. Tell me, Meadow, what did you do before when you didn’t know something?” 

“I would try to remember it, make a mental note and keep it stored away.” 

“That worked? Remembering a lot of things at once is difficult.” 

“Yeah, it did.” Did it? I often forgot which tools I even had, like my frisbola. I kept forgetting to do certain things, usually finding myself distracted by something else. “No. It didn’t.” I sighed. “I remembered some things but I always forgot others. It’s like my brain shoved out old information to make room for the new.” 

“Most people work like that. It’s why we have the written language, something that was taken from you.” 

“It wasn’t ‘taken’ from me. I could have kept going to school if I wanted to.” I argued.

“No.” Dr Kim said. “Your mother was confronted by one of your teachers, did you know that?” I shook my head. “She told him that she’d kill him if he ever tried to tell her how to be a parent again, she even pulled a knife on him. There was a court case over it and your mother was required to do community service.” I had a vague memory of her complaining about community service, I just didn’t know what it was about.  

“You’re a young woman who was dealt a bad hand in life.” she continued. “Sometimes the universe is like that, a cold indifference. Which is why we have each other. In your case, you had no one. As much as I wish I could, I can’t change the past. Neither can you. So, we have to accept that the past is gone and done, and think about the present, of what we can do now. What we can do now, is to rehabilitate you into society and help you catch up on what you missed. To start with, you can’t blame yourself for not knowing these things.

Tell me, if a Tinker project of yours wasn’t working out, what would you do? Would you abandon the entire thing and give up? Or would you rework it until it was what you wanted?”

I wasn’t sure what the answer to that was. None of my projects had failed to be what I wanted. Everything I made was good in some way. A lot of the time I wasn’t even sure what the outcome was going to be. With the exception of the forge. That hadn’t failed because it was built wrong. It failed because I didn’t think of the logistics of it. What had I done then? I’d run off to the Wards, and now I was here. 

“I…” wasn’t really sure what to say. I took a drink of water to fill the gap. “I’m not really sure. The only project that didn’t work out for me was my forge, and that was an issue of not thinking through the details. The forge itself would have worked fine. I just didn’t think of the fact it’d make smoke and people would see it.”

“What did you do? Did you dismantle it?” 

I exhaled air from my nose in a laugh. “No, PRT did that, I came here. I wanted to tour the building and see what the Wards had. Then Armsmaster was nice to me and made my worries feel so trivial in the face of it. He told me I was important and I fell for it.” I tossed the pillow I had been hugging to the side. Stretching out my body felt good. 

The clothes I’d been given still felt unfamiliar against my skin. I was used to wearing baggy clothes with lots of pockets. Sometimes I’d sew extra pockets on the inside of jackets to help store more things. These were a tighter fit, just jeans and a t-shirt but they clung to my body. It felt weird. The jeans didn’t even have pockets. My shoes were also so flimsy, basically just cloth. I missed my big leather boots. 

Dr Kim was in my peripheral vision as I stared at the ceiling. She was watching me, writing stuff down. I guess she wanted me to elaborate, or continue. I didn’t really feel like it. 

“When do I get to pick my own clothes?” 

“Hm?” I repeated myself. “Oh. I’m pushing for you to get more independence in clothing choices, meals, and the like. For now, the schedule we have you sticking to is important. It’s important for you to remember to eat healthy meals, bathe every day, brush your teeth, socialise, and practise your reading and writing. Your clothing choices were just what was on hand by the PRT. I can put in a word to expedite, which in this case means to speed up, the process for you to pick what you want to wear.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Which I’ll do tonight. We’re at the end of our session here, Meadow. 

I won’t be seeing you again until Friday, the twenty-fifth. I’d like for you to think over what we spoke about today during that time. How it’s okay for you to not know everything right away. How you need to recognise your improvements. And how it’s alright to tell people you need a break. I hope you have a good week.” she said, standing up to show me the door. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” 

I left Dr Kim’s office feeling weird. Our sessions always left me the same way.. 

Heather must have received word from Dr Kim because she took me out shopping the moment I stepped in the door. 

It was nice, despite all the people. We stuck to the Boardwalk, a place I was unfamiliar with. Going here before was a surefire way to get myself chased away by a burly man wearing a suit. I was what they considered an ‘undesirable’. I just wanted to give their trash a new home. 

Similar to my clothes, my hair felt weird on me. I refused to let them cut it. I liked my hair, it was cool. Hours of washing it, brushing it, and combing it had made me regret that decision. A tangled mess, a bird’s nest, a field of brambles. All phrases used by the speciality hairdresser they’d pulled in for it. She was nice, despite the shock of having to deal with what she said was the worst state she’d seen hair in. I’d seen homeless women whose hair was all clumped together. My hair wasn’t like that, it just got tangled a lot. She was definitely exaggerating, or just hadn’t been to the Docks.

After it was cleaned up, I was taught how to brush it, and how to care for it. Turns out, soap wasn’t a good replacement for shampoo. 

It felt weird, not having it be all tangled and wild. I felt civilised. Which was sort of gross. Right now, it was in a braid that ran down to my lower back. I still had some ways to go before it was in what the hairdresser called ‘acceptable condition’. A braid would hide it, according to her. 

I wasn’t ashamed of my hair. I wasn’t ashamed of not doing the basic hygiene routines that everyone else did all the time. I was ashamed when I was told it was wrong. I was ashamed of the pitying looks that everyone kept giving me. 

I just wanted to be a hero, not an injured puppy for people to fawn over. 

Heather was enthusiastic, dragging me from place to place. She seemed conflicted too. Each time I pointed at the clothes I’d rather have, she looked like she was confused but would say words that were encouraging. In subtle ways, she’d push me towards dresses and the like. They didn’t have any pockets or even any armour capabilities. 

In the end, we ended up with a compromise. I’d get what I wanted, which was cargo pants with lots of pockets, huge hoodies with plenty of space to add pockets, some new heavy leather shoes that were meant for hiking, and a new backpack that was also meant for hiking. In return, Heather picked out more dresses, skirts, frilly socks, and these plastic-feeling shoes. She told me they were leather just finished in a certain way.

All of the dresses and skirts had pockets. Which was acceptable. She also got me some new underwear. Girls didn’t wear boxers often. We were supposed to wear these tight-fitting underwear. I didn’t like the idea of it. Heather didn’t seem to mind settling for buying me new boxers. 

I liked loose clothing. Tight-fitting clothing made me feel restricted and confined. She also bought me a basic makeup kit. I’d never used makeup before, except for the time I snuck into my mom’s room and plastered it all over my face. She wasn’t pleased. 

Unpleasant memories aside, it was a nice gift, since she also promised to help me learn how to use it properly. Heather was nice. She’d dote on me, treating me like her own daughter. Then we’d be walking down the street and she’d be alert, ready. A soldier. It was a stark reminder that she was just playing pretend. Another adult who was just trying to keep me calm. 

She offered to buy me ice cream to round out the day. I wasn’t sure what ice cream was. 

“You don’t know what ice cream is?” she said, her mouth open so wide I could see the back of her throat. 

“No? Is it a big deal?” 

“A big deal?” she made a confusing expression like she remembered something upsetting. “Alright. It’s settled. We’re getting some tubs, plenty of flavours to try.” 

She ended up buying a lot of different types. It came in flavours I’d had in different candies. Chocolate, strawberry, bubblegum, mint, and a lot more that I’d never even heard of. Heather told me that ice cream was, as the name implied, cold and that I should pace myself eating it. I could get something called a ‘brain freeze’ if I ate too fast. 

I could make a self-cooling container that had similar properties to the air vents you found just inside store doors. It could be modified to act as a fire extinguisher, a bug repellant, and a potential flash freezer. 

My power teased me. Right now I was being restricted from making stuff. I was free to jot down the ideas and maintain my current gear, but I wasn’t allowed to create new objects until I went through power testing. It was irritating having these cool concepts that would take less than twenty minutes to make, and not being able to. 

At least I was allowed to keep Kid Win’s tech. Armsmaster, after consoling me, was excited over the prospect of me being able to use other Tinker’s tech for whatever reason. I wasn’t paying much attention at the time, on account of the info dump that was joining the Wards. He mentioned Dragon a few times like they were close friends. I kept dreaming about meeting her. 

Back at home, Heather set out samples of each flavour and set me to try every single one. About eleven in total. 

It was good. Amazingly good. Part way through, they had started to melt a little. 

“Oh! I’ve had this one before.” I was eating the ‘vanilla’ one. “It wasn’t like this, all fluffy. It was a liquid like the melted part. Tastes better when it isn’t mixed in with other stuff.”

Heather stared at me with an odd look on her face. Confusion? I wasn’t sure, I’d need to look at my face chart. It was a chart with a bunch of different expressions on it to help me remember which was which. “Other stuff? Where exactly did you eat this?” 

“Behind a restaurant, it was in a little cup with some other liquid in it. It tasted a bit like this, but with a gross aftertaste from the other thing.” 

“That’s the saddest way I’ve heard of someone experiencing ice cream.” She gave me another odd look. Concern? Or worry? It was similar to confusion but with upset eyebrows and no squinted eyes. 

Heather stepped around the table to hug me. She was a very physical person. Lots of hugs, hand holds, gentle touches. Even when we watched TV she’d let me lay across her lap. It was hard to get used to physical touches that I enjoyed. 

“Well, eat up, I want to hear what you think about the rest.” 

Bubblegum was my favourite. It tasted like someone described bubblegum to someone who’d never tasted it before. In a weird way, it worked. 

After dealing with legal proceedings, a new strict schedule, a couple of insufferable people, and meeting more faces than I could ever remember, I was finally done. A literal sigh of relief left my lips as I finished signing the last of the paperwork needed to officially make me a member of the Wards. Despite the relief, being officially part of the Wards just meant more work. 

I took a deep, calming breath before entering the Ward’s headquarters. Only a week had passed yet it felt like I last saw this room a lifetime ago. I was in my new clothes, a yellow dress (with pockets) that Heather said complimented my blue eyes. My hair was still barely recovering from the extensive damage I’d subjected the poor thing to, so I kept it tied into the safety braid. 

Shaving your legs was pretty common amongst women - something I was unaware of - but I was really bad at it. Long socks kept people from seeing my red spotty legs. Heather told me the process for it a million times over and I still messed it up. She wasn’t as upset as I thought she’d be, which was nice. 

The Wards were waiting for me. They were all still in costume but had removed their masks. I wasn’t wearing any mask either. 

Clockblocker, Dennis, I already knew. Although our meetings were brief, he’d unmasked to me as a show of solidarity. He’d even invited me out to the arcade if my schedule would permit it, which it never did. I still wanted to go there, I’d never been allowed inside the arcades for very long. His familiar red, curly hair was a nice comfort among a sea of unfamiliar faces. His face was freckled, like Dr Kim, though I was sure his hair colour was natural unlike hers.

Aegis, whose name I hadn’t known before having the rundown on each of the Wards, was the team leader. He wore a mostly red costume, some parts were white. A shield was set in the middle of his chest, also white. I didn’t see his helmet near him, but I had seen it in images. It was pretty basic, like the rest of his costume. If someone said the word ‘hero’ to you, Aegis’ costume was probably close to what you’d imagine just without the obvious cape. 

He had long hair, not as long as mine, just down to his shoulders, and light brown skin. He was handsome and clean. Boardwalk material. Walking down the Boardwalk with Heather opened my eyes to how rundown every other place was. It felt like a wealth-sucking vampire that drained the well-being of every other area in Brockton Bay.

They all looked at me expectantly. Right, introductions. 

“Hello. My name is Meadow. Meadow Fields. You might know me as Raccoon Knight, patent still pending. I’ll be joining the Wards with you all.” I said with confidence. Practising in the mirror for hours had paid off. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Meadow Fields?” Shadow Stalker said. She was pretty. Model levels of pretty, like Glory Girl. “That’s the stupidest fu-” 

Chapter Text

“Hello. My name is Meadow. Meadow Fields. You might know me as Raccoon Knight, patent still pending. I’ll be joining the Wards with you all.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Meadow Fields?” Shadow Stalker said. “That’s the stupidest fu-”

“Sophia.” Aegis warned. Shadow Stalker stopped speaking.

She clicked her tongue. “Fine, whatever. I need to go on patrol, anyway.” To say she stomped past me would be wrong, since it didn’t sound like she stomped, more like gliding, but with a stomping attitude. My name was stupid. It still sort of hurt.

“Sophia, you’re supposed to introduce yourself.” Aegis stepped as if to chase after her. Shadow Stalker slipped her mask on in one smooth motion and turned in another, flipping Aegis off with both fingers as the doors slid shut in front of her. Aegis ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily.

“Sorry about her. She can be a bit brazen.” He walked up to me, hand extended, a bright pearly white smile on his face. “Carlos. Aegis in costume. Team leader.” I shook his hand. “I have redundant biology and flight. Makes me function like a pseudo-brute.”

His body could adapt to things. I wonder if it could adapt to mechanical parts. Would it work around an artificial organ or extremity, or would it not be considered part of his body?

I wasn’t aware we were supposed to introduce our powers.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Uh, I have Tinker powers, I make stuff out of things people threw away. Armsmaster said my specialisation was probably ‘Recycling’, or something.” I said.

His smile grew wider. “Oh, we know. Armsmaster wouldn’t shut up about it. He said you can use other people’s Tinkertech. You have some of Kid Win’s stuff, right?”

“Yeah, I was told it was fine for me to keep it.” I hoped they weren’t going back on that.

“I haven’t been told otherwise. Anyway, the rest of the team needs to introduce themselves.” He stepped back and gestured with both hands towards me.

Dennis half-ran forward, locking an arm over my shoulder. “I’ll take it from here.” He put on an accent that sounded like an old-timey radio announcer. “Stick with me, kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He held his hand out towards the far left member of the group. Vista.

“Clock, you better not say some stupid stuff about me.” Vista said. He grinned, Vista sighed.

“That’s our tiny terror, Vista, otherwise known as Missy. Now this missy can warp space so up is down and down is up, and down is also left somehow. It’ll tousle your brain into a tizzy and leave you dizzy. Despite her small demeanour-”

“Where’d you even learn that word?” Vista interrupted.

“she’s a force to be reckoned with and every villain knows it.” he continued as if not interrupted. Vista, despite rolling her eyes, preened at the praise. His hand next turned to Gallant, who was rubbing his helmet with his thumbs. Eyes cast down to the floor, avoiding me.

He was also handsome. Did heroes get reconstructive surgery to make themselves more attractive? Everyone in this room was attractive except for me and Vista. Even she was cute in a way that could be attractive.

“That’s our resident knight in shining armour, Gallant. Known when not saving damsels as Dean Stansfield, just as rich in wealth as he is in personality.” Dean looked up at me, his face almost snapping into a smile. It felt wrong, but I wasn’t sure why.

He strode forward, chest puffed out. “Dean Stansfield. A pleasure to officially make your acquaintance. I want to apologise for losing my cool with you back at the park. It was unprofessional.”

He lost his cool? He was the picture of polite. I was in the wrong back then. “What? You didn’t even seem angry, and if you were, it’d be justified, anyway. I messed up, and I’m sorry for interrupting. You could have been killed by Hookwolf because of my mistake.”

Facing him was harder than Dr Kim said it would be. A tightness weaved around my chest, refusing to let go. Dean gave me a concerned look.

“I’m not upset. You’ll learn how to handle those situations better now that you’re here. As much as I hate to leave you, I do need to go catch up with Shadow Stalker. I’ll talk to you later. Again, I’m not upset, don’t worry.” he held his hands out, placating before leaving the room.

“Hey, it’s alright. Dean could never be angry. He’s a big softie.” Dennis said in a normal voice. It was soft in my ear, barely a whisper. How could he read me so easily? I took a deep breath. Dennis squeezed my shoulder a bit.

“Despite his metal exterior, Gallant is no Tinker.” he said.

“He’s not?” My anxiety faded a little at the distraction.

“No, miss, merely a feint. He shoots blasts that change your emotions and can sense them around him to boot. His armour was made by our resident Kid Win and maintained by the mech suit with a beard, also known as Armssomething or other.” Dennis’ hand turned to an empty space of the room. “Kid’s too busy tinkering so just imagine him there.” he said in his normal voice. “And this is Kid Win. Despite his dumb name, he’s a Tinker of a high calibre.” he continued in his mock accent.

“He’s under orders from Armsmaster to do something for Meadow. If you paid attention during the briefing you’d know this.” Vista said.

“Drats, foiled again by the mech with a beard. Now,” he stepped away from me, removing his arm. “the most important question in the world.” He leant in towards me as if sharing a secret and paused for a few heartbeats. “Who is your favourite?”

“Dennis.” Aegis warned. Unlike Shadow Stalker, Dennis just waved it off.

“Oh, um, Vista.” I said.

Dennis clutched his heart, swooning dramatically. “You wound me. Didn’t even hesitate.” he groaned, falling to the ground.

Vista lightly kicked him. “Get up, stop being an idiot.”

“I resent that.” Dennis pointed a hand up at him from the floor. Aegis shook his head, then seemed to remember something and headed off towards the console. I still needed to learn how to use the console, yet another thing to the to-do list.

“Glad to see someone around here has a brain, though.” Vista walked over to me. To say I was star-struck was an understatement. She gave me a soft smile. “Missy Biron. Nice meeting you. Is your last name really Fields?”

Aegis turned and shot her a look.

“Not teasing.” she raised her hands defensively. “Just curious.”

Sophia might have been mean, but Vista hadn’t a mean bone in her body. “It is. Kinda silly, yeah?” I smiled back at her.

“Parents, huh?” she shrugged, and gave me a smirk. She glanced at a watch hidden beneath her glove. “Shit, patrol soon.” she turned to leave before stopping dead in her tracks. “I said shoot right then. You may have misheard me.”

She wasn’t allowed to swear. “Sure?” ‘I would commit crimes for you, Vista.’ I didn’t say.

“Good. I’m off on patrol. Have fun with Dumbnis over there.” Vista gestured to Dennis, who was just now getting up off the floor.

“Dumbnis… Vista that’s weak, even for you.” he said, dusting himself down as he stood up. He sounded like a disappointed adult.

“Whatever. Take Meadow to Kid Win.” she half-yelled as she walked off down the corridor.

“You’re not my boss.” He yelled back. Dennis walked over to me. “Though I do need to take you to Kid Win. After you, fair maiden.” he screwed his eyes shut and made a pained face. “Forget I said that. After you, Meadow.”

I snorted. “Of course, my liege.” I curtseyed. Dennis gave me a big grin. We left for Kid Win’s workshop.

Kid Win’s workshop felt more like a factory than Armsmaster’s workshop. Instead of being half-office, half-Tinkerstation, it was instead full Tinkerstation. There were machines scattered around the room, some reaching up to the ceiling. All of them had a white label stuck to it. A black marker noted their uses in big block text.

‘Pneumatic Drill.’ The biggest read. Air power, despite not using it that much, was what my power was most attracted to. It was relatively simple to set up, though pressurised air was harder to find than electronics. Fufu only had a few shots in her between each canister.

It was almost fortunate that I didn’t get into too many scrapes before all of this. Running out of shots mid-fight would require swapping to the mouth piece for manual firing, a cumbersome process that could lead to getting hurt.

I thought about the small air cannon I had made. She never even got a name, or a use. She was made to protect me on the way home, but ultimately didn’t do anything. Kind of sad, also fortunate. I wanted to upgrade her, make a bigger version. I still wasn’t sure what to use it for. Maybe delivering a gas of some sorts?

“Yo, Chris!” Dennis yelled, startling me. “What you cooking up today?” he continued in his regular tone.

Kid Win was digging through some boxes under a desk. Dennis’ yell caused him to jolt and hit his head against it. All the items on the desk jumped up a bit from the force.

“Motherfucker.” he said, rubbing the back of his head. He stood up to face us.

Chris had light brown hair that wasn’t really styled to do anything. He was pale, probably didn’t see much sunlight outside of his armour. Large brass goggles, with a gadget framed in front of the lenses, sat over his eyes. He lifted the goggles up to reveal droopy eyes.

“Screw you Dennis.” his brown eyes turned to me. “Ah, new girl. Raccoon Knight, right?” I nodded.

“Meadow.” I informed him.

“Cool, cool. Chris, or Kid Win, or Kid, whatever you want. Uh, I got some stuff for you.” he turned and pulled the plastic box out from under his desk. It was partially filled with Tinkertech. All sorts of Tinkertech, from batteries to anti-gravity panels. I knelt down to get a closer look.

“This has some of Armsmaster’s stuff. Mostly it’s mine, though. I was told you’d be able to use this. It’s just scrap or broken projects that we hadn’t got around to melting down or taking apart. You were using parts from my blaster, an aiming piece and the battery, right? What’d you use them for?”

I was in heaven. My brain was flooded with ideas that I could barely keep up with. As one formed, another interrupted it. I snapped myself away from the box to look at Chris.

“Oh, um, I used the navigational component to interface with a pair of sunglasses in my helmet. She displays everything from temperature–internal or external–to assisting with my aim. I put these nodes on the back of my hand so she could adjust my aim using my muscles rather than a targeting reticle. That’s Elel, the Navigator.

Efef, her sister, the Lifegiver. I used to make a charging port attached to a microwave that would charge anything electrical I ended up using. She could also recharge batteries with a little modification to them. She’s technically conjoined to Riri, the Energy Oracle, so I like to refer to them as Efiri when talking about the full station.”

Chris stared at me for a bit before speaking. “You name your devices?”

“Do you not?” he shook his head. “Oh. Well, they deserve names. I name all of my stuff. Um, not to be rude, but do you mind if I?” I gestured to the box of stuff.

“No, go right ahead. I get why Armsmaster was excited now.”

“The bearded mech, excited? Impossible.” Dennis mocked as I dug in to machine heaven.

A conversation between the two boys was pushed to the back of my mind, becoming white noise as I grabbed bits and pieces. Each one slot into the other, like a jigsaw made from mismatched pieces. A battery here, a servo here, an anti-gravity panel here. Magic. It was magic. I’d always considered myself a knight, one who used technology. But this? It was magic, through and through. I was giving all of these pieces a new life, a life they shouldn’t have.

The battery had no charge, but it didn’t matter.

The wires were frayed. It didn’t matter.

The gravity panel didn’t function on both sides. It did not matter.

None of it did. Each piece was broken, obsolete. Nothing more than scrap. I was a wizard, a mage, a sorcerer, capable of granting them life. A necrotechnomancer.

I fed the battery into a coil of metal, a magnet shot between to generate charge in a never-ending loop. It’d charge the battery enough to power the gravity panel, which would then generate charge by pulling the magnet. It wasn’t perpetual energy, not by a long shot, but it was enough to grant new life to the battery to be used for a while.

I finished my creation. She was a squat circle, her body being made from the casing of what looked like a fire alarm mixed with a roomba. A shiny domed panel was set into the bottom of her case. It was reminiscent of a cartoon UFO. Two metal handholds jutted out of either side of her. I grabbed them with both hands, then glanced around the room to find a test. Right, the box beneath me. I closed the flaps, locking them in place.

I indented the buttons on both sides of the top of her case. A warbling noise filled the room as she kicked into life. A low whooshing built up speed as she charged up.

Come on, work. I know you can do it.

Twenty seconds went by before she clicked into life. Distorted air connected to the box below, wrapping around it. The box lifted off the ground with ease. After a short moment, it snapped up at surprising speed, connecting to the panel beneath.

She needed a name; Kiki, the Gravity Well.

I turned a dial, and the box split the difference, ending up halfway between the floor and the panel. Rotating, Kiki caused the box to follow along. I positioned her way from Dennis and Chris, then turned the dial again. The box was pushed across the room, like it was levitating. Distorted air stretched across and past it in a beam.

“Holy shit.” Chris said.

“Neat.” Dennis said at the same time.

“You slapped that together in like a minute. It somehow uses parts from both Armsmaster and me, and works fine with multiple settings, too. Bullshit. I call bullshit.” his tone and the smile stretching across his face betrayed his words.

“Jealous, Chris?” Dennis taunted him.

“A little. It’s also giving me crazy ideas for adding more settings to my blaster and hoverboard.”

“Whatever works, I guess.” Dennis shrugged. He went over to the box, now on the floor, and knelt down to look at the pieces in it.

“It was your tech. I just gave it a new form. I couldn’t make anything like this on my own.” I said to Chris.

“What sorta stuff do you make on your own if not this?” Chris asked.

“She mostly uses trash. Has a paintball gun she made from plastic bottles and PVC pipe. And a spear that makes you feel awful made from a baseball bat and some toaster parts.” Dennis said, still rummaging through the box.

When I told him about Coco, Dennis had wanted nothing more than for me to use her on him. I told him that it was a dumb idea, but after begging me over the course of three days of short interactions, I’d relented. Even now, I’m sure he can remember the feeling. Oddly enough, he’d thanked me for it since he got to skip console duty.

“Pretty much right.” I said.

“Recycling specialisation, right? Armsmaster said something about that. Well, anyway, that box is all yours. Dennis, you know what room to take her to?”

“Huh?” he craned his neck to look up at Chris. Plastic circles had been nestled into his eye sockets, making it look like he was wearing spectacles.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Meadow’s new workshop. You know the room?”

“Jealous of my genius, I see. Of course I know the room. I’d be a terrible tour guide otherwise.”

Chris shook his head, chuckling a little. “It was nice meeting you, Meadow. I have to go out on patrol soon, so I need to leave. And no one’s allowed in here unless I’m in here, regulations.” He gestured to the door.

“Oh, sure, nice meeting you, too.” I used Kiki to pick up the box of new friends, much to Dennis’ disappointment. We shuffled out of Kid Win’s workshop and said our goodbyes.

Dennis led me down deeper into a lower level of the basement. A door with a silver plaque outside was our final destination. The plaque read ‘Raccoon Knight’s Tinker Studio’. I had my own workshop? My own lab?

Dennis turned to say something, but I was already past him, bursting into the room. “Hey!” he protested as I ran by.

The room was the same layout as Kid Win’s, but with no random machines. Three benches lined the back left wall. A desk with a computer was placed against the right-hand wall, near the door. All of my things, my hoard was already lined up under the benches in the boxes that had become their home. A set of basic tools were placed on a board above one of the benches, including a few power tools.

Dennis flicked a light switch behind me, illuminating the room. I didn’t see any lightbulbs or plates on the ceiling or walls. I wasn’t sure how that worked. In the light, the room was even better.

“Fucking awesome.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

Dennis clapped a hand on my back. “There’s a cot in the wall if you need to work on stuff over night.” he pressed a panel hidden on the wall the door was on. A flat looking bed folded out. He pressed it again to send it back. “Piggot told me not to tell you about it until you were more settled, so I’m telling you, anyway.”

“Dennis. This is fucking awesome!” I beamed at him. My body felt like it was about to burst. I bobbed up and down on the spot to expend some of the energy. He grinned at me.

“Alright, alright. You can gush later. I need to show you your room.” he had to drag me out of the workshop.

My actual room in comparison was spartan. Just a bed, a dresser, and a side table. Dennis told me I could add decorations if I wanted to. He recommended against it since it meant you’d want to spend more time here than at home. Heather had said I was free to stay on base if necessary, but I should try to come back home as much as possible. I wasn’t inclined to argue.

***

Dennis had to leave me to face the image department on my own.

Tinkers were allowed, and encouraged, to make their own costume. Power armour was a common enough design they had. In my case, I already had a costume. It had a long way to go till it was finished, but I’d cemented my brand. Something Glenn Chambers was torn on.

On one hand, I had successfully created an idea and followed through with the theme. Plate armour with ears, a tail, and the logo. On the other, it meant changing my costume’s theme, also meant changing my name and vice versa. They were intertwined, symbiotic, and Glenn did like both of them. He was just trying to ‘future-proof’ my decision. I wasn’t sure why he needed to.

He looked more like a biker than what I imagined the image department would. His hair was gelled up into a mini mohawk. Glimpses of a bright blue suit peeked out when he leant back in his seat.

I wasn’t important enough for an in-person visit from Glenn. He’d phrased it as he was busy with things in New York and couldn’t make time for the trip, but did want to make time for me. I’d needed someone to set up the webcam and laptop for me, since I had no idea how they worked.

Learning computers was something on my to-do list, which was growing ever longer with each passing day, much to my dismay.

“I want to stick to my theme. Now that I have a forge, I can make an alloy that’ll be durable and lightweight, so the armour idea will work fine.” I said. Seeing myself talking was weird. Watching my lips moving was a bizarre feeling. It didn’t feel like I was looking at myself. Especially since I was lacking my healthy coating of dirt.

Even though it was March, and was still cold, the sky was clear enough most days that my time scavenging had given me a tan, which I liked. My hair was still in a braid. Probably would be for a long time. I didn’t look as tired as I felt.

I’d been given a physical, which was a medical examination of my body, and I was, in the doctor’s words, ‘surprisingly healthy for someone who’d lived off food from dumpsters and frequently slept around trash. The PRT had deemed that I had some kind of minor power to process toxins and diseases better. I think they didn’t realise that most food thrown away was still eatable, and that I wasn’t going around cutting myself on rusty metal. No special ability needed.

The examination also told me I was five-foot one, and one-hundred-and-twenty-five pounds, which was a healthy weight and shorter than I expected. I definitely needed limb enhancers to improve my reach and gait. The doctor was also surprised I had the right level of vitamins and proteins

“We can work with that. The knight theme is a good sell. It’s been proven to work." Glenn Chambers continued. "Speaking of, Mouse Protector was looking to get in contact with you. She’s an independent hero and has a similar theme to yours. It’s a good match." The Mouse Protector wanted to talk to me? "What I’m worried about, Meadow, is her personality. She’d be a bad influence on what I want you to become, the type of hero you’ve expressed interest in becoming so far.” his voice was tinny over the computer speakers.

“I’m not going to change myself because some woman spoke to me.” I lied. Mouse Protector was awesome, and I would happily model myself after her. I wasn't going to change my personality just from meeting her, so the lie wasn't technically a full lie.

“Quite right. However, I cannot guarantee she won’t have some influence on you. I’m not here to run your life, but I would like it if you spoke to her in the future, once you’re more established. Is that agreeable?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I didn’t know what she wanted with me, and to be honest, nor did I care in this moment. Maybe I would tomorrow after I slept. Right now, I was physically and emotionally drained. Meeting the Wards into speaking with Glenn was a bit much.

“Good. Now let’s talk about logos and merchandise.”

We spoke for another two hours before I was finally allowed to leave. Having my own action figure sounded cool, having my logo plastered onto everything from cups to foam versions of my devices sounded cool, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Too tired.

I was told to work on improving my device’s designs to look better, even if it wasn’t functional. I didn’t really understand why. Every single one did their job. Why add bells and whistles? I’d agreed just to get to bed faster.

Much of what I was told was functionally useless. It was all about appeasing some entity that existed in a vague sense. Public perception for people I didn’t really care about. I cared about what the locals thought of me. I wanted to help people, and be seen as someone you could turn to for help. A hero who fixed things, from crime to engines.

Being liked by ideas of people in New York, or Philadelphia, or even on the other side of the world didn’t mean much to me. Glenn spoke about it like it was the most important thing. I supposed to him it was.

Keeping myself clean, presentable, was his most stressed point. My state before all of this was described as ‘disgusting and sad’. Almost every adult I’d encountered had said, or implied, the same thing to me. Pitying glances when they learned how I lived. People lived in worse conditions. I was thriving on my own. I didn’t need their pity.

I thought about Rex. I was supposed to talk to him again, and the others, before all of this. He’d never expressed many opinions on capes when I was around.

I wonder if he’d be proud of me.

…

Sweltering heat, heavy leather apron and gloves, metal boiling down to liquid form. This was heaven.

The fruits of my labour were currently bubbling in a cauldron within the Tinker made forge. There was no visible flame, just metal pipes that glowed red hot.

I’d spent the better part of three days creating moulds for the armour pieces. They weren’t very complex, just different sized plates plus a larger mould to create about two-hundred-and-fifty chains per cast. During that time, I’d finalised the design on the alloy and gained permission to create it.

A lot of hammering was in my future. Each piece needed to be shaped to fit together. When I was done, it’d be a suit of armour to rival the round table knights. Raccoon ears were a must, and were included in the design.

The tail was giving me trouble. My current design was deemed unfit for public perception. I disagreed, but I did agree that it was flimsy. Plastic just wasn’t good enough. Getting the doughnut shaped metal pieces was easy. So was the wireframe to hold them up. Finding what to put inside the tail was what was perplexing me, which is a fancy word for confusing. It was originally meant to be an emergency storage unit to use as a last resort.

Gas, despite being relatively simple to make, required a long approval process. My stink pellets were still undergoing approval. I’d note it down to fill in later, and just focus on the design for now.

Every single thing I made, no matter how simple, needed approval. Even if I’d proven its effectiveness, it had to undergo that same rigorous process. It was getting old, fast.

Telling the PRT that I could make mould that would continually produce the healing plaster had caused something of a disturbance. The review process for the paste had then taken highest priority and was marked safe for use in the field. Plus, they’d pay me per pound of the stuff I sold to them. If I made the self-duplicating version, and had it approved, they’d give me a monthly payment for as long as it lasted. Which should be the rest of my life.

Turns out, healing was rare, and self-replicating Tinker things were also rare. It was also scary. I was told, in no uncertain terms by Piggot herself, that if I ever made a self-replicating version of anything else, I’d be shipped to the Birdcage faster than I could say ‘sorry’. I wasn’t so stupid as to go against her wishes, even if I didn’t understand them.

Heather, when I was lamenting not being able to clear out the boat graveyard with self-replicating metal-eating acid, told me Piggot was part of the team that dealt with Nilbog. Some guy who’d taken over a town, and could make self-replicating creatures. She said I should avoid being like him at all, even a little. It was a fast way to get a kill order on my head.

Of course, my power took the time to tell me I could make something similar with just chemicals and plant matter.

It called it a homunculus. An artificial person. It wouldn’t be sentient, just a robot. It could be made to not be self-replicating, too. I sort of liked the idea of a little plant helper. I jotted it down and made sure to triple underline that it would not be self-replicating in case anyone read my notes.

…

Days passed fast. April crept ever closer. Before it pounced, my armour was complete. Chris had helped a few times, offering advice and conversation. Dennis stuck around too, though offered less useable advice and more conversation. Carlos, Dean, and Missy also poked their head in occasionally to chat. Carlos and Dean were only a couple of times. Missy tried her hand as much as she could but often was too tired from patrol to stick around for long. Sophia didn’t show up once.

Plate armour covered me from head-to-toe. Chain mail covered any gaps, and I had made gambeson to sit underneath. Proper gambeson. No more cheap coat for me. I’d sewn it together while waiting on the forge.

Finding the cloth was an ordeal. I started with things from the PRT lost-and-found bin, which amounted to a few jackets, a couple of shirts, and a lot of glasses. I wasn’t sure why people lost glasses all the time.

The glasses were thrown into my glass pile, and the frames into my plastic or metal piles.

Finding the rest of the cloth showed my limitations. A PRT officer tried to offer me his coat. He planned on replacing it next week, anyway. I found my power unwilling to give me ideas on how to incorporate the materials into my gambeson. So, I tore it to bits. Yet still my power refused to give me information.

When I told Chris this, he told Armsmaster, who dragged me into power testing. I needed to go here at some point before going out as a hero for real, anyway.

They–after way too much testing–determined a few of my limitations.

First, was that I couldn’t be given an item that was in useable condition, just no longer wanted.

Second, was that I couldn’t break an item to make it useable by my power.

Third, was that my power didn’t always work the same way.

Before, it allowed me to use marshmallows I had bought. In testing, I went to a local store, bought some marshmallows, and failed to be able to use them. The very same brand I’d used before.

I was beginning to get frustrated. These limitations weren’t a thing that happened in the past. I scavenged stuff, I made stuff, simple. Now, due to the PRT requiring me go through certain processes, I was finding them. Was it shy? I didn’t understand why it didn’t want me to rely on others.

Armsmaster handed me a scanning device. He told me he no longer needed it and it was mine to keep.

Nothing.

Well, there was something, just not what I wanted. I gained ideas on how to make scanning devices of my own. None of them included the device itself, or any of its components. Even when I tried to think of ideas for what I could use the lens in the device for, I received nothing.

Last, I was given a box of scraps. They told me it was all found in dumpsters, at the train yard, or from the local junk yards. I was asked to take each piece, and note down the ideas I received from them. On a certain piece, a bicycle bell, I couldn’t find any ideas. They told me to carry on, so I did.

By the end of the box, seventeen pieces had given me no ideas, the rest was fine. They told me that those pieces were bought specifically to give to me and then scuffed up to make them fit in. I was designated a minor thinker power relating to if objects were truly thrown away or not. This wasn’t added to my PRT classification, but was marked on my file.

At the end of it, I was pleasantly surprised to find they were willing to accommodate my limitations. A contract would be setup with the local dump to supply me weekly with whatever I needed. If I didn’t ask for anything in specific that week they’d give me a generic supply of materials.

My first shipment was so many materials that my head spun. I jotted down plenty of ideas, but focused on finishing my armour. Which, was magnificent.

A full gambeson coat, pants, and gloves. The gloves received a metal gauntlet exterior with metal bracers running up my arms. Chain mail covered the gaps between elbow and shoulder plating. My breastplate was angular, sharp with a much better raccoon logo on it.

My logo was designed by the image department. A cartoon raccoon head with a shield behind it. That shield sported gears and sprockets to show my Tinker nature. I was jubilant with it. Probably the wrong way to use that word.

I decided against the plate skirt I planned, but did create longer tassets–they’re pieces of metal that cover the hips–to mimic a skirt. I also got to include a gorget to protect my neck.

The alloy I’d made was based on aluminium to keep things lightweight. That didn’t mean it wasn’t sturdy. Even Kid Win’s laser rifle didn’t leave more than a mark on the test plate I made.

Chris had received ideas by hanging around me, and improved his own gear. His rifle now sported a lot of different settings. His hoverboard also included different settings for various reasons. It was nice to see him so excited about stuff. Each time he told me things, I gained ideas, when I told him those ideas, he gained ideas. A self-fulfilling cycle. He was also happy to give me discarded components.

All of my named devices were stored in my lab now. It was nice seeing them all laid out. Improvements had to be made before my first patrol. A full suit of plate armour took a lot of time to make. I only had time to modify Coco, she deserved it.

A simple modification was made to let her piston away from me. I also fixed up her shaft, making it from the same metal I made my armour. It cut off half-way through and slotted together. With a button press, it’d expand her reach by about a foot with a fast mechanical push. It should be good to extend my reach and catch someone off-guard.

Then the day finally came for my debut. I had no idea how they organised these things. My debut was only announced a day before it was supposed to happen, but the next day about three different news stations had come to film it.

“You’ll do great, sweetheart.” Heather assured me. She gave me a tight hug. The contact was nice, and the hug relieved a bit of my anxiety. She bought me a weighted blanket, saying it would help with anxiety too. Turns out, she was right, and I loved the thing. I wish I had it here now.

Deep breaths. I’m Raccoon Knight, hero to the downtrodden. Raccoon Knight the Tinker, an artificer and a warrior both.

I stepped up to the podium that held the microphones. Ms. Piggot was behind me, her posture immaculate. Knowing what she went through had given me a sort of respect for her. She understood what it meant to fight for what’s right.

I faced the cameras, the lights flaring in my eyes. I thanked past me for the sunglasses idea.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Raccoon Knight, patent no longer pending. I’m now officially part of the Brockton Bay Wards. I look forward to using my Tinker powers to defend this city.”

Bonus Art! A lazy sketch of RK's current armour:

Chapter Text

Patrolling felt just as pointless now as it did when I was doing it on my own. Aegis and Vista were accompanying me on what amounted to a PR walk. We were sticking to the boardwalk, a notoriously low crime rate area of Brockton Bay due to the enforcers that most shops hired. 

Despite being in costume, I still kept a wary eye on the enforcers. I'd been chased away by them in the past while trying to get at the treasure troves they called dumpsters. 

"Right now, you're going to be stuck on the safer routes. When you're more established and used to being around others, we can take you further away from the Boardwalk." Aegis continued his answer to my question of 'What was the point in this patrol?'. I thought the heroes might have more answers on finding crime. My initial attempt at patrolling had ended with me finding zero crime and being surprised by the wrong police code.

Turns out, there wasn't an answer. The heroes didn't stumble across crime any more than a civilian did, even though the heroes were looking for it. We were a preventative measure. If a crime was reported in, we'd respond to it. Usually, that meant getting there later than we were needed, unless you had mobility. 

Kid Win had his hoverboard, and I was growing more and more jealous of that fact. Shadow Stalker could also leap around with ease, letting her cross the building tops like a proper hero should. Aegis would also usually fly if on a serious patrol. Vista could bend space to cover tons of ground.

Gallant, Clockblocker, and I were the odd ones out. Us ground based mortals would have to deal with gathering witness statements after the fact, or wait around for a cape fight to break out and hope console would give us permission to help. 

Aegis, in his rust-red costume, was rambling on about safety procedures, how to approach crime when found, and how to respond to civilians in a positive manner. Vista chimed in occasionally with extra advice. I was listening, my attention just happened to drift a bit. 

A rumble in my stomach made my eyes catch on half a sandwich someone had thrown into the Boardwalk trash cans. Mesh wire baskets, supported on a metal pole. All of their contents were shown to the world. It was hypnotic, drawing me in with its sandwichy mind powers.

I fished the sandwich out of the trash, chowing down–ham and cheese with some mayo–while I rummaged through the rest of the trash. Ninety percent of it was coffee cups, the paper kind. There were a few candy wrappers, a bit of foil, and-

"Raccoon Knight, what are you doing?" Aegis said in a warning tone. I glanced up, mid-way through a bite of the sandwich. A small crowd had gathered around Vista and Gallant. All of them were staring at me. A few held out phones in my direction.

I swallowed. "Uh, eating, and gathering materials." 

Whispers. So much whispering. 

Did she eat that from the trash?

Gross

Ew, what's wrong with her?

She's a hero?  

Dude, this going on PHO the moment I get home.

She's disgusting. Ew.

Aegis sighed. He stepped forward, gently taking the coffee cup in my hand. He threw it back into the trash can. "Listen, you can't-" I snatched the cup back out of the trash. He stopped speaking, startling a little at my sudden movement.

"You can't." I said, my voice shaky. I grabbed the rest of the things from the trash can, scooping them up into my arms, and backed away. "I need them." 

Aegis glanced around. Vista was talking to the crowd who were ignoring her. "Knight, remember what I said about public appearances?" Aegis said. He held his hands out in a placating manner. 

I looked at Vista. Her expression confused me. I glanced at the crowd. Eyes staring at me. Mouths snarling. Whisper, whisper, whisper. 

Stop whispering!

Aegis flinched. The crowd stopped their whispering. Oh. I didn't think that. I yelled it out loud. 

My face was wet with tears, the foam inside of my helmet absorbed them, growing damp. The whispers started up again.

I ran. More whispering, more people, more crowds. I ran harder. 

I ran until my breath was ragged, my chest heaving with each step. I ran until my legs burnt. I ran until there was no more whispering.

After what felt like hours, I rested in an alleyway. Hiding behind the bags of trash that were piled inside of it. Haven. Safe, secure. I ate my sandwich through thick sobs. I was so stupid. So dumb. Idiot. Moron. Idiot. I shouldn't be allowed around people. 

"Meadow." Aegis' voice startled me. He was floating above the ground a short distance down the alley. His body was dark in the shadow of the building, his back illuminated by the mid-afternoon sun. "Let me take you back, okay?" 

"I don't wanna go back to the Boardwalk." I protested. 

He shook his head. "No, back to the Ward's base. Okay?" His feet touched the ground. He extended a hand towards me. "Please, Meadow?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Okay." I stood up and took his hand.

"Do you want to fly?" He asked. 

"No. Um, I'd rather walk, clear my head." I said.

"Okay." 

We walked in silence. Aegis was taking me along a winding route back to base. Whether to give me more time, or to avoid people, I wasn't sure.

"What you did… It was… It was fine." Aegis broke the silence. "I'm not gonna blame you for your y'know?" I didn't. "Just… Around people you need to be more careful. People can misunderstand. You were just gathering materials for projects, but they didn't know that. Also, maybe in the future don't eat food from the trash?" He glanced towards me. 

"Why not?" I asked.

"Oh. Um. Well, it's unsanitary. Someone was eating that before, their saliva is on it. You could get an infection." 

"They said I had a power that got rid of diseases and infections." I said. I didn't mention the fact that the food was fine, no power needed. Anyone could do what I did. It wasn't a lie. I just didn't want to argue.

"That does change things a little." He paused for a moment. "Then, instead of infections, you need to worry about public perception. I was saying, before you... wandered off, that the public's opinion of us is important. People are quick to judge, and we have to try to be as close to perfect as possible, at least in public. Having good ratings makes people feel safer around you. It makes people want to come to you with their problems, which helps us help them. People have a preconceived notion that eating food from the trash is bad. You should avoid it, at least in public. Okay?" He said, turning his head towards me again. 

It made sense. People could be bad. If people didn't like me-even if it was for stupid reasons-then they'd be less likely to trust me. Glenn had gone over this with me plenty. I just didn't think eating food that was perfectly good was a bad thing. Why didn't they like it?

"Why don't people like it?" I asked. 

"It's considered unsanitary. People would be afraid of you spreading germs to them. You might not get ill, but they can. If the food had some bad bacteria, then that could get on your gloves. Shaking hands could lead to someone vulnerable getting ill." 

I could make an anti-disinfectant that would coat my gloves. I could extend that effect to my whole armour and body.  

Alcohol wasn't too hard to find. I could also use hand-sanitiser or even just soap. Restaurants tended to throw away industrial bottles of soap with some left. A hospital's chemical waste bin might also be worth checking out. 

"Okay. I'll make a disinfectant device, then people won't get sick. I'll tell people I have it and I can eat food. I find if I'm hungry without making people worried." I smiled at him, despite it being hidden by a mask. I hoped the smile would convey through my words.

Aegis sighed. "That's great, Meadow. Just, there's more to it than germs. It's a cultural taboo to eat thrown away food. You can't Tinker your way around that." 

"Taboo?" I asked. I wasn't sure what the word meant.

"It means something that's considered wrong by people. Like yelling in public. You can't just eat things off the ground, no matter how clean." His voice was taking on a condescending edge, just like every adult in my life. Except maybe Heather, or Dr Kim. 

"Sure, fine. No eating food off the ground, I got it." I dismissed him. I didn't want to keep talking about it. I'd eat what I wanted to eat. I wasn't going to disobey the team leader, though. I wouldn't eat things in public.

Aegis stopped for a brief moment before carrying on. We finished the journey in mute silence; the only sounds were the soft chinks of the grenades on Aegis' bandolier, the similar noises from my armour, and our footsteps. 

…

Triumph, or Rory as I now knew, was pleasant to talk to.

Aside from a hushed conversation between him and Aegis after we returned to base, using a backdoor entrance to avoid the public, he was very open about his opinions. He didn't directly talk about what happened at the Boardwalk, instead opting to tell me about one of his first patrols. 

"I ended up tangled in that fishing net for about an hour before I was cut loose. Man, I did not hear the end of that for years. Clockblocker is the only one who keeps it going, and most people just ignore his jokes." I nodded along. I didn't feel like laughing, but the story made me smile. He brushed a hand through his short, styled, dark-brown hair before resting it on the back of his neck.

"You're close to Dennis, right?" Rory asked me. 

"Out of everyone, yeah. He's spoke to me the most. Though I've been speaking a lot to Chris, he helped on my armour. And Missy is nice, though I don't know her that well. Carlos and Dean check on me sometimes, but it's not real conversations." I was rambling. 

"You've got plenty of time to get to know them. Patrols can be boring, tons of time to chat." he smiled at me. A rich person smile. Pearly white and perfectly straight. His face flickered into another emotion temporarily before fading. I didn't have time to catch what it was. "Aegis said you had a bad first impression to the public." 

I nodded.

"Well, it happens. Don't let it get to you. PR will want to talk to you. You should trust them. They're there to help. First impressions stick, not going to lie, but you can make up for them. Show people the hero you are, rather than a misconceived idea. They'll recognise it, eventually." I nodded. 

I wasn't sure I cared what people thought. What difference to me does it make that a concept of a person didn't like me? As long as the people who needed help, the ones I cared about, could approach me and ask, then I didn't care. Hopefully, those individuals wouldn't care about me eating a perfectly good sandwich that was going to waste, anyway. 

"Good." Rory said. He patted my shoulder with his hand. "Good. Keep at it. Keep patrolling, but do listen to PR's advice, yeah?" I nodded again. Rory nodded too, giving me a thumbs up. "I've got a meeting to get to. I think you're wanted on console duty." He patted my shoulder again, nodding to himself before he set off. 

What a pointless conversation. 

…

"That one is for full broadcast. It'll put what you're saying through to everyone at once. Generally, you only use that if you need everyone out on patrol to converge at one location. Groups aren't always the same. Group A is whoever is set to the Alpha frequency. Bravo frequency is group B, Charlie is Group C, etcetera. You can tell the frequencies by the roster. Clockblocker is with Shadow Stalker right now. The roster says they're in what group?" Vista continued her explanation of the console. She'd returned from her patrol shortly after I had been led back. She was only out on patrol because of me. 

I glanced at the current roster on the screen. They were in Group B, I said as such.

"Good. Now, tell them to stop drifting off-course." She pointed to their GPS signal. It displayed an overhead wireframe of the streets surrounding them. A blue line represented their current patrol route. Both of them had wandered a couple of streets over. 

I pressed the Bravo frequency button and leant into the microphone. "This is console. Shadow Stalker and Clockblocker, please return to your designated patrol route. Over." Vista gave me a thumbs up.

"Console, I've told Stalker that we need to go back. She isn't listening. Over." Dennis' voice said. Clockblocker's voice, currently.

"Console, Shadow Stalker just called me, and I quote, 'a fucking snitch'. I thought that was our job. Over." Dennis said.

Vista leant in and took over the microphone. "Tell Shadow Stalker that you didn't need to snitch. You're both wearing the same trackers that you've always worn. Over." She said. She rolled her eyes at me as she stepped back. She smelled like lilacs. It was nice. 

"Whatever, we're going back on path. Happy?" Shadow Stalker said over the comms. 

"Uh, she didn't say over. Over." Dennis said. 

"Your life's gonna be over in a-" I heard her voice faintly over Dennis' line before it cut off. 

"It's okay. Resume patrol as normal. Over and out." 

"Over and out." Dennis echoed me. 

I turned to Vista. "Good. You don't need to say that you're console though, they already know that. You also don't need to specify their names, since they're already grouped up." She said.

"That makes sense, my bad." 

"Don't worry, not a big deal. Most nights are like this: calm. If it gets too hectic, I'm at base. Just call me and I'll take over. Piggot will be impressed if you keep your head during a cape fight, but don't push yourself. If it's too much, call me, got it?" Her voice was stern, still cute. 

I nodded. "Got it." I said. She smiled at me.

"Good. Do your best, newbie." She saluted before walking away. I saw her cringe as she walked off. Did I smell? I showered yesterday. I also sprayed myself with the perfume Heather got me after I got back to base. She told me to spray it if I was ever around trash for more than five seconds. I had been crying in an alley full of it, so I followed the instructions. 

Oh well. I turned my attention back to the console. 

…

Console duty was kind of entertaining. Most of the time, the comms were 'open'. You had to turn them off to talk without console hearing you. Shadow Stalker kept hers off most of the night. Aegis ended up patrolling with Gallant. The two boys spoke a lot about sports. I didn't listen in much. 

Group A, Gallant and Aegis, helped move someone's car, who had broken down in the middle of the road. They found a wandering cat and called up the owner to return it. And much later into the night, they stopped a few drunken brawls. 

Group B, Shadow Stalker and Clockblocker, had more luck in finding actual crime. Sophia had some kind of sixth sense for finding it. At random intervals, she'd deviate wildly off the patrol route. Before I noticed, she'd call in, asking for permission to engage. I called each engagement in to the Protectorate. Out of the four, three were approved. She, and Clockblocker, broke up two drug deals, a mugging, and found an Empire cape called Krieg. I also noted her consistent deviations from patrol to find those crimes.

Shadow Stalker sulked, for lack of a better term, at not being able to engage him. I managed to convince Armsmaster, who was responding to Krieg's appearance, to let her act as covering fire. Krieg's power, as indicated by the PRT file, was a form of kinetic manipulation. He could deflect projectiles and make people move slower. A painful enemy to go at in a melee. Shadow Stalker could negate that somewhat by leaving her bolts as shadow as they flew through the air. 

Armsmaster had agreed that it could be useful, though he phrased it as 'The tranquilliser bolts I gave her could be useful if the shadow state of her power allows it to bypass his powers.' Which was an odd way to say she could be useful in this scenario.

Krieg was chatting in the middle of the street to a handful of Empire Eighty-Eight members at the time. All of them were armed, according to Shadow Stalker. They'd scattered like gross, disgusting bugs would at the first sign of Armsmaster. He came skidding into the scene. His halberd at the ready like a lancer on a horse. 

Shadow Stalker got into position, using her wisp form to move silently across the rooftops. Krieg wasn't stupid enough to stand around waiting for Armsmaster. Like his friends, he scattered, using his powers to run faster than they could dream of. 

The heroes gave chase. Armsmaster allowed me to view his body-cam footage to better see the battlefield. I instructed Shadow Stalker, giving her a play-by-play of the directions Krieg was heading in, as well as the scattering Empire Eighty-Eight. She told me to focus on Krieg. Armsmaster told me to focus her on the members. I wasn't sure what to do. 

I instead communicated to Aegis and Gallant to intercept the members that were heading their way, and kept Shadow Stalker on a path between Krieg and a heavily tattooed man who was close to him. She must have seen my intentions, since she didn't complain about me seemingly directing her to a mook instead of the grand prize. 

I called Vista over to assist, but not take over. She communicated positions to Gallant and Dean.

Armsmaster caught up to Krieg with ease. Krieg had taken shortcuts, covering more distance than going along the road would allow. Unfortunately for him, Armsmaster was excellent at driving and was happy to break the speed limit to catch up. Krieg came face-to-face with the blue and silver armour of Armsmaster, as well as a large ball attached to a chain that was currently his halberd. 

It could shift into a lot of different forms. A flail didn't seem like the best idea against someone who can manipulate kinetic energy. 

Krieg raised his hands to protect himself from the flail. It slowed to a crawl. Armsmaster rolled off his bike, letting go of the spear in the same motion. His bike remained upright, braking and placing down the kickstand. He attempted to kick out Krieg's legs but went wildly off-target. A feint, or Krieg's power? 

On Vista's orders, I requested back-up from the closest Protectorate members, Assault and Battery. They both agreed to be there shortly.

Armsmaster continued his roll to the side, away from Krieg. His halberd appeared in his outstretched hand, no longer falling near the nazi. He thrust it forward, narrowly missing Krieg, who stumbled back to avoid it. The head of the spear folded out into several blades and whirred around dangerously. He swung it towards Krieg who batted it away with his hand like it was paper. Krieg rushed Armsmaster, swinging punches in his direction.

"Fire when ready." Armsmaster's voice came over the comms but not over his camera. He dodged and weaved around the man's punches.

Shadow Stalker was already in position. I wasn't sure how Armsmaster knew she wasn't following the runaway, especially since I hadn't realised she'd stopped. Experience made all the difference, I guess. 

Armsmaster swung his flail, hitting Krieg in the chest. Krieg stumbled back from the force but wasn't hurt. It created a few feet of distance between them. A shadowy bolt sailed through the air, taking advantage of the momentary break in the fight. The arrow curved around the man, slamming into the tarmac of the road with force. Krieg glanced at it and laughed. 

Armsmaster leapt in the moment he glanced away. Each swing did nothing to him, meant nothing. Armsmaster's breathing was becoming laboured, heavy. I heard Shadow Stalker's comms cut out mid swear word. She fired a few other bolts to the same effect. I requested she hunt down the tattooed man and she agreed with no fight.

"Armsmaster, backup is a minute away. Over." I said. We had communication with the Protectorate teams but didn't command them. They also had direct access to our lines at all times. 

"I have him. Send them after the men." He said through panted breaths. I wasn't sure he did. It would disobey a superior's orders if I didn't tell them. 

"Battery, Assault, this is Ward's console. Armsmaster is requesting you find the remaining men. I have no information on their current whereabouts, except for the two in Gallant's and Aegis' care. Over." It was truthful, while also letting them choose to disobey Armsmaster of their own free will.

"Then I guess we go to Armsy. Thanks, Knight." Assault said. Good, exactly what I wanted. 

Krieg continued fighting Armsmaster, who was slowing down significantly. Each blow became sluggish, further amplified by Krieg's power. 

Assault punched Krieg in the face, who was part way through a punch of his own. His mid-swing punch became the momentum that spun him around. Assault had arrived quickly, running at superhuman speeds to deliver a superhuman punch. It hadn't done more than a regular punch. 

Krieg reorientated himself before breaking into a mad dash away from Armsmaster and Assault both. His path took him through a car filled side-street. Armsmaster launched something from his halberd but it veered off-course before hitting.

A blue blur slammed into Assault before streaking after Krieg. Battery. She managed to gain on Krieg just as Assault was catching up. He turned, kicking blind at the blur that was Battery. She was hard to track on the camera. His kick connected, sending her soaring backwards towards the street Armsmaster was resting in. Assault leapt back to catch her. Letting Krieg cover more distance.

Armsmaster clambered onto his motorbike, his breathing less laboured than before. It roared into life, and he took off in the direction Krieg had fled. I lost sight of Assault and Battery, only knowing their positions on the GPS map. Armsmaster's comms opened to the duo, but I wasn't allowed to listen in. 

"Armsmaster in pursuit of Krieg. Going dark to Ward's console. Over." He said a few moments later before cutting the link. His tone wasn't different from usual. I wasn't sure if I messed up or not. 

He never caught up with Krieg. He'd disappeared into the wind with no reports from the police or PRT agents otherwise. The Wards returned to their patrols. 

On the plus side, Shadow Stalker became a bit more talkative through the rest of the night. That wasn't saying much. She still barely communicated and left her comms closed, but she was more willing to listen to what I said, less impatient. 

Assault spoke to me for a while. He said I did a good job, and he was looking forward to meeting me in person. He also complained about Krieg stopping his cool moment. The punch he delivered was supposed to send the man flying further than Battery had, but his powers had messed with Assault's. It wasn't a long conversation, but was a fun conversation. 

Vista took over the console fully after my time was up. My legs were shaky from sitting down for so long. She gave me the advice of stretching now and then, and also reprimanded me for forgetting to eat the entire time. It was only three and a half hours, not long enough to worry. 

I ate in the PRT cafeteria. The food was bland, but filling. 

I decided to spend a little longer at the base to work on a new project. I called Heather to let her know. 

Kiki wasn't combat focused. Her gravity beam was too slow to launch anything. She was perfect for search and rescue, however. I could lift rubble, debris, etcetera out of the way while trying to save people. The issue was that she was cumbersome. I needed to withdraw her and grip her in both hands to use her at all. In search and rescue, this wasn't an issue, since typically I didn't need my weapons on hand.

I had an idea to use the gravity function to retrieve far-away objects, such as my dropped devices. Credit to Armsmaster's teleporting trick for giving me the idea. 

I just needed to figure out how to do that. Kiki functioned in one direction, and one direction only. Out. She could push, pull, and even hold an item mid-air by doing both at once. She couldn't, however do it in anything but a straight line. A design flaw that only mattered if I wanted to route her through my costume to panels on my gloves. 

It wouldn't work. Her beam would appear at the only gravity panel that existed. Incapable of turning through pipes, or wires, or whatever.

A problem easily solved by having another gravity panel, which I didn't. 

Second solution. I could setup a compartment on my back that held spooled metal wire. That wire would attach to my devices and be fed through brackets on my armour. Preferably brackets underneath the plate itself. Then, if Coco goes flying, I can remotely activate a wind-up function that would pull Coco back to me. 

I was mostly using switches, which meant it was either on or off. I'd need a reliable way to activate remotely that could be done without too much effort and was secure enough to not accidentally trigger. 

Armsmaster used a lot of non-verbal commands to activate things, like his teleport. I would need to wait until tomorrow to ask him for help, as he was currently patrolling. 

What non-verbal methods could I use? Certain hand signs? 

I could use small magnets placed at specific joints on my fingers that would activate the pulling mechanism of the wire. Then removing the magnets from each other would stop it. One on my pointer finger and one on the thumb would work. I could even expand that system to other commands later. Each hand would have a separate spool of wire and would activate their respective piece of wire only.

Currently, I only planned on using my left hand, but that would change the moment I made my shield. I sketched out the design for the container and the pulling mechanism. 

I had no metal wire. I jotted down an order on the sheet stuck by my door. 

'As much metal wiring, like the ones they use at trains, as you can find. Thanks! - Raccoon Knight'

I doodled my symbol without the gears in the shield. They weren't needed and were hard to draw.

'Also, how does Armsmaster activate his devices without visible movement or speech? - Raccoon Knight, still' I added. 

Not much to do but go home. On my way back, I received a text on my Ward's issue phone. A device I was still learning. 

'this is glory girl got your number from gallant. do you wanna meet tomorrow for breakfast? just wanna talk. not in trouble' It read. 

Glory Girl. Victoria. The Greek goddess. I had been avoiding thinking about her. Gallant, over the week of me making my armour, had gently pushed the topic of meeting with her. I told him I was busy, which wasn't a lie. I was still dealing with PRT things while making my suit. He'd let go of the issue without much fuss. 

This was more direct. 

'ohkey. sounds good. what time/place?' I typed back. I wasn't sure that's how you spelled 'okay' but I couldn't remember what else it could be. My thoughts had stopped working right.

'8am boardwalk. civvies. my treat.'

I told her that worked for me. Eight AM was earlier than I got up. My bed was very comfortable, and I liked to sleep late. 

Heather had given me a bedside alarm clock. So, I hoped it wouldn't be an issue. Waking up was something I'd only ever done naturally, or when my mom had dragged me out of bed to complain about something. Maybe I should stop calling her my mom. 

Heather made tacos that night. Another thing she did a weird shocked or maybe pained face to when I said I didn't know what it was. Heather assured me that they would be amazing. After they were made, I realised I had actually seen them before on the TV. They were really good.

TV, as it turns out, has more than just auction, cop, fishing shows, and commercials. Our channels were limited, which I knew, I just hadn't realised how many more there could be. I thought it would be a few extra shows. Nope, hundreds. 

Cartoons were great. Probably my favourite to watch. Bright, but also very loud. They also had lots of jokes. I didn't know TV shows could be funny. I liked watching them with the sound really low.

Heather was relaxing on the couch with me after dinner. I was sat on the let side, closer to the TV, she was lounging against the armrest on the other side. She was wearing silk pyjamas. I had regular cotton ones. Silk felt weird, too smooth. 

Her hair kept catching my eye when the TV flashed certain colours. It was very bright, too red. Dennis had similar hair, just more brown, more natural I think. She was reading a book using a book light since the room was dark.

"Heather." I said. She hummed in response, eyes still on the book. "Do you dye your hair that colour?" 

She glanced towards me. "Yes. I like the shade. It's brown, usually. Why, you want to dye yours?" 

I shook my head. "No. I was just curious." I turned back to the cartoon. A humanoid mouse was rescuing a cat from a tree. It had the ability to fly, like Aegis. Do animals get powers? I'd never heard anyone mention it. 

I could genetically alter a mouse with functional wings. They'd need to be attached to its front legs. It would keep its thumb, the rest of the fingers being stretched out to function like a bat wing. Front paws were useful for mice. I'd seen them eat all sorts of stuff by holding them in their little hands. Maybe I could add extra bones and muscle to make the wings independent of the front arms. It would require tools I didn't have access to. Really small surgeon tools. Maybe Armsmaster had some, his speciality was miniaturising things.

"What's that Tinker idea you're having right now?" Heather asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. She still had the book open, further along than I last noticed. She'd told me in the past that I looked spaced out while thinking about power things, and that I muttered things under my breath.

"I was thinking that I could genetically alter a mouse to give it wings. DNA modification could let it pass those wings along, too." I said, focusing back on the TV.

Heather's hand gripped my shoulder too tight. I flinched. "No. Listen to me. You don't do that, okay? Never." Her voice was more serious than I'd ever heard it. Was this to do with the Nilbog stuff? My heart started beating faster. 

"Okay, I'm sorry, I won't. You're hurting me." I said. My voice wavered more than I meant it to. She let go of my shoulder. I rubbed it to lessen the pain a little. 

"I'm sorry." She said, her voice back to normal. Confusing emotions flashed over her face. Pity? No, that wasn't right.

"It's okay." 

"No. No, it's not. I messed up, and I'm sorry, Meadow. No one is allowed to hurt you. You don't deserve that." She said. She bit her lip. "Can I… Can I hug you? Is that okay?" 

It was. Her hug was nice. I took a deep breath. Heather wasn't my mom. Which I was both thankful for and hated. I wanted her to be my mom, but not like my old mom. 

"I'm sorry. Genetically engineering animals is a slippery slope, and I panicked. I promise I won't ever hurt you like that again." Heather assured me. I believed her. 

We ate ice cream and watched a movie about knights and princesses. 

Chapter Text

The internet was a never-ending expanse of strangers being awful to each other.

Parahumans Online, or PHO as it was commonly called, featured a thread titled: Raccoon Knight, New Ward - Discussion Thread. 

It linked back to a former thread that was speaking about me before I joined the Wards. That thread only had a few comments. I was an unknown before my Wards debut.

Admittedly, my introduction didn't go great. Not through any fault of my own, but through people chalking their opinions as facts.

Only half a page into the new thread, there was a picture of me eating the sandwich. The mouth-guard of my helmet was raised up enough to show the lower half of my face. There was also a picture of me running away after the fact.

According to commenters, they came out to see the new hero, get pictures, or maybe even a signature. Then, as the public noticed Aegis and Vista, they started to crowd around to talk to us. A new hero was exciting. Except, I wasn't there. Instead, they found me rummaging through the trash, eating a sandwich they saw me take out of that bin. 

A picture of Vista with a weird half-smile, half-frown on her face came next,  titled 'Vista hates new Ward?!' Which wasn't true. Vista was kind to me.

You needed an account to be able to reply, which took longer than I'm willing to admit to create. Figuring out what an 'email' was the hardest part. The PRT had issued me basic necessities for functioning in this digital age I was thrust into, including an email. After figuring that out, it was simple. There was a 'Reply' option to the messages. Constructing a bulk message to tell them all at once that it was a misunderstanding was faster than replying individually.

'Hi peepul of Brokton Bay.' I started. 

'Peepul' was definitely wrong. I consulted my desk dictionary; "People". Why was it not pronounced 'pee-o-pull'? 'Hi people of Brokton Bay'. I revised it.

'my name is meadow' No, can't use real name, dumb. Delete. 

'My name is raccoon knight. vista is very nice to me. she is kind and smells like lilacs. I was surch.' Backspace. 'serch.' Backspace. 'searching.' Got it. 'for tinkur items. my speshulty-' I sounded the word out. Heather told me that was the best way to spell words sometimes. 'is recycling. I need to use trash to make cool sci fi devices! like coco and kiki. the sandwich was fine and yummy. ham and cheese. - raccoon knight, patent no longer pending!'

It ended up reading:

' Hi people of brokton bay.

My name is raccoon knight. vista is very nice to me. she is kind and smells like lilacs. I was searching for tinkur items. my speshulty is recycling. I need to use trash to make cool sci fi devices! like coco and kiki. the sandwich was fine and yummy ham and cheese.

-raccoon knight, patent no longer pending.'

Perfect. I clicked 'post' and got ready for breakfast with Victoria.

It was a warm day so I wore a blue dress (with pockets, of course), with a little bag that slung over my shoulders. The bag was a plush toy attached to a string, a cartoon rabbit or something, that had a zip in its head to let you store stuff inside. I put my money, house keys, phone, pepper spray (courtesy of Heather), and beef jerky into it.

Victoria said it was 'her treat', which sounded like she was going to buy dessert. I'd never had dessert after breakfast. Maybe it was a rich person thing? I bought money to buy the breakfast part. I wasn't sure how much breakfast cost after only ever buying small things from corner stores.

Before having powers, I would find bottles and cans, and then sell them, then use that money to buy packets of noodles to eat. Noodles were a dry, long lasting food, like beef jerky. It was in case my mom forgot to buy food again and there weren't even crackers I could find at the back of the cupboard. The noodles hurt my mouth with their pointy edges, but were otherwise okay.

Warm tarmac on my feet gave me new life. Walking around barefoot was a newer pleasure. Back at the docks, it would have given me glass cuts on my feet. Heather's house was in a nicer area and even had a back garden! Grass feels great under your feet when you're not worried about it having needles in.

With vigorous moisturiser application, and finding a softer shaving method, my legs were no longer spotty. A gentle breeze kept them cool even as the day was hot. I understood the appeal of shaving legs better after rubbing them against a ton of surfaces. Smooth against soft was a pleasant feeling.

Victoria was waiting on a bench. Her bright blonde hair waved gently in the breeze. She was wearing shorts made of that scratchy material jeans were made from, and a fancy looking shirt with frills. She was wearing shoes, unlike me.

A man walked up to her. They spoke for a bit and she wrote on a piece of paper he offered her before handing it back. He thanked her and left. Huh? Was she a spy? That's awesome.

Do I call her Victoria or Glory Girl? 

"Hi, Victoria Girl. Um, Glory Girl. Uh, Victoria," I stumbled over my words. She gave me a brilliant smile.

"Hello. Do you want an autograph?" She had a warrior's voice. It was strong, confident, but still gentle. She could command armies.

"Oh, um, no thank you. I don't know what that is. Just regular food is fine." I smiled back.

"You're Meadow!" She exclaimed, hopping up off the bench. She towered over me.

"Yes?"

"Sorry! I didn't recognise you. I like your hair," she said.

I touched my braid, which was draped over my shoulder. "Thank you. It's because my hair is damaged, so it's in a braid."

Victoria looked confused. "Well, do you want to find somewhere to eat and chat? What do you feel like?"

What did normal people eat for breakfast? I usually ate whatever I could find.

People on TV always ate sausage, eggs, bacon, waffles, and pancakes. I'd had some of those before during early morning rounds of scavenging. 

"I don't really know any shops around here. Maybe you pick?"

"Yeah, makes sense. I can do that." Glory Girl looked around at the shops behind me. "There's a café I like that serves breakfast. Let's go there."

I followed along, lost for words. Glory Girl turned to me, occasionally opening her mouth before shutting it again. I could tell she wanted to fill the silence. She glanced down at my feet.

"Why aren't you wearing shoes? Did they not buy you shoes?" Her voice fluctuated in pitch.

"Um. I wanted to... and there was. I liked the grass. Warm, um," I muttered. My brain couldn't think straight. I wanted to tell her that not wearing shoes today was a choice. The warm ground and the soft grass were nice. I just couldn't formulate it right. My heart was pounding in my chest.

She must have noticed something because she stepped back. The overwhelming pressure lessened a little.

"Shit. Sorry. Hey, it's okay," she said in a gentle tone. She inched closer to me. "It's alright. No one's blaming you. Let's go buy you shoes, okay?"

I shook my head. "I'm okay." I took a deep breath. "I'm okay. We can get breakfast."

Glory Girl looked at me with pitying eyes. I couldn't stomach it, even from her. I looked at the ground instead. "I don't want you to get hurt," she said. Hurt from what?

"I won't." There wasn't anything to hurt me.

"I'm not sure they'll let you into the café without shoes," she said.

"Why?"

"Hygiene reasons." She hummed in thought. "Got it!" She snapped her fingers. "How about flip-flops?"

I glanced at her face. No longer pitying. "What're flip-flops?"

…

Flip-flops were great! 

They were shoes with no top, just a bottom and a strap. Flip-flop was a perfect name for them, since that's the sound they made. Flip. Flop. Flip. Flop. It was very pleasant. The base of them got warm in the sun like the ground, and I got the cool breeze washing over my feet still, but with none of the sharp rocks digging into my soles. Best of both worlds!

"Glory Girl, thank you! These are cool!" I said. We were walking towards the café after visiting a store that sold beach things. Lots of plastic shovels and buckets, and floatation devices shaped like flamingos, as well as flip-flops.

"Call me Victoria, but I'm glad you like them," Victoria said.

"Okay, Victoria!" I was on a first name basis with Glory Girl! "Wait! Oh no!" I exclaimed.

Victoria's eyes went wide. "What is it?" She asked.

"I'm so sorry. I hope no one heard me saying your cape name," I whispered to her. She laughed out loud. It was a pretty laugh, and a startling one. Why was she laughing?

"Don't worry. New Wave doesn't have secret identities. Everyone knows who I am." Her smile was brighter than the sun behind her. She was framed by the ocean, early morning sunlight enhancing the glow she already had. My stomach fluttered.

"That's, that's good. I didn't know that." My heart was racing, but I wasn't afraid? It felt like how I felt around Carlos sometimes. He didn't mind walking around shirtless. He often visited me after a shower, and would grin in a way that made my heart squeeze.

I had no fucking clue what it meant.

Originally I'd figured it was just nerves, then I thought it might be battle instincts. But he'd never fought me, and I didn't want to fight him, so I dismissed it.

We arrived at the café. It looked like Miss Piggot's office more than a place that served food. The only things that showed what it did was the kitchen visible through a cut out portion of the wall and the menu hanging behind the counter. All the tables were harsh squares. At least the chairs looked comfortable. Padded red material lined the hard wood benches.

"Let's grab a booth," Victoria said, leading me to a nook at the far end of the room. It was smaller than the other sectioned off portions, only big enough for about three people rather than five like the others.

We sat on opposite sides of the hard square table and Victoria picked up a plastic thing with pictures of food on it. I took one too. At the top it said: 'Menu'. Oh, that made sense. It showed off what food the place sold.

I ordered pancakes and sausages. Victoria ordered something called 'iced tea' so I got a glass as well. We waited around for our food in silence after ordering. Victoria was typing to someone on her phone.

Food that was made by someone good at cooking was still a new experience for me. Each bite was pleasant, no bugs, no bite marks, no unexpected little pebbles hiding inside. A world of flavour that wasn't accidental. Mom had made meals in the past, when she was in an 'up' mood and not high. They always sucked. She liked to burn things.

Calling her 'mom' felt wrong now. I don't think I knew her actual name. Honey? That's what her boyfriends-of-the-week always called her. Asking Armsmaster or Miss Militia what my own mom's name was too embarrassing.

Victoria sipped at her ice tea, eyes locked on me. "So," she placed the cup down, the ice clattering inside, "Meadow. Back at Arcadia, why'd you run from me?" She asked.

Why did I run? My brain wasn't thinking right then. I was terrified that she caught me doing something I wasn't supposed to. People liked to yell and scream at me when they found me in dumpsters in the past. I thought she was going to be like that. She wanted to tell the teachers about me.

"I thought I was in trouble. I was really scared. It doesn't excuse me for throwing the containment glue at you, though. I'm really sorry, Victoria," I said.

She shook her head. "You only hit my leg. It was no biggie. People saw from the window and I was unstuck after an hour. It took forever to loosen it from the ground. Never got the boot back though." she laughed.

"Sugar unsticks it. I'm sorry about your boot," I said, staring at my plate like my eyes could burn a hole in it.

"Nah. Don't worry. No need to apologise. I wasn't trying to get you in trouble. I just wanted to help. I thought you were a homeless girl until I saw your helmet. Then, I thought you were a homeless cape girl. It didn't make much difference in my eyes. I'm glad you've joined the Wards, even if we didn't get to speak," she said in a gentle voice. "They wouldn't let me see you. Kept saying you were 'too busy to talk to me.'"

"I was busy. That wasn't wrong. There was so much paperwork," I sighed. "No one told me you wanted to see me. Except for Dean. I thought you'd be angry at me."

"I'm dating Dean. He told me you had a lot of anxiety when he mentioned meeting me. I didn't want to push, but I did want to talk to you. I thought breakfast might help with that. Did it?"

"Yes, it did," I said. I fished through my rabbit pouch thing and took out a handful of dollar coins putting them on the table to count. "Um, how much did what I got cost?"

"It says on the menu," she tapped the numbers next to the items, "right there. Like I said, though, my treat. Put your money away." She shoved the coins back towards me.

"Oh. I thought that meant you were buying dessert. I've never had dessert with breakfast before."

Victoria laughed. I felt compelled to laugh along for some reason. It came out as more of a nervous chuckle. 

"It means I'm paying for it. I could go for ice cream, if you wanted?" She asked.

"Okay. I like bubblegum," I told her. She smiled at me.

"Interesting choice." She stood up from the booth and went to pay at the counter. I finished off my ice tea before she returned. As I stood up, she hooked an arm through mine. It was like holding hands but with the elbow crook instead. The contact was a little startling. . "C'mon. Let's go get some ice cream," Victoria said, still smiling at me.

We walked, arm-in-arm, out down the Boardwalk. Warm sunlight coated my skin. Heather had slathered me in sunscreen before leaving the house. It was a foul smelling paste that was supposed to stop your skin from being burnt.

I could create a skin-like substance that would act as a solar panel, allowing me to charge batteries throughout the day while in civilian life. I could also add flame retardant properties to it.

Victoria spoke about her favourite shops as we passed by the many that lined the Boardwalk. I nodded along, completely unable to add to the conversation in any meaningful way. Seagulls squawked overhead. The smell of the sea was pleasant.

We found a cart selling ice cream. A man with leathery, wrinkled skin was operating it. Victoria bought strawberry and bought me a bubblegum cone.

Pleasant. That's the best way to describe it. Cold ice cream felt good on such a nice day. Nicer than eating it at home from a bowl. Victoria's arms were strong, muscly, against my own. She swapped sides to my right after I told her I was left-handed.

"It's a weekend. You'd think I'd get more time to myself," Victoria complained out loud as we finished off our ice cream. She looked at me, unhooking our arms. I missed the contact already. "I've got to cut this short. Sorry, Meadow." She smiled a pained smile.

"That's alright. I had a good time," I smiled back, but with no pain.

"Good. If you want, we could patrol together sometime?"

We could do that? "Fuck yeah!" I half shouted, before remembering we were in public. Indoor voice. Well, outdoor voice but quiet.

"Woah, cool, okay. Very enthusiastic. You have today off, right?" I nodded. "Okay, then tomorrow?"

"I'm on duty tomorrow. Patrol with Gallant." I said.

"I'll talk to him to get me on that patrol." She pulled me into an unexpected hug. "See you, Meadow!" Victoria said before flying off into the sky. I was still too dazed from the hug to process the flying part.

The rest of the morning was spent scavenging around the Boardwalk. The enforcers didn't spare me a second glance now. I looked like I belonged.

I found a fancy electronics store. It sold higher scale devices than I'd ever seen. Their trash was uninteresting. I expected to find a broken TV or something. Just lots of empty boxes. A few of those, stripped apart, made a hand-fan. The day was getting hotter, and it was nice to have some relief from it.

The next store over was the beach store, the one that sold lots of plastic devices that had no purpose outside of the beach. Their trash was much more interesting. Lots of broken knick-knacks.

A broken handle half of a shovel made for an excellent lever. I wished that I had bought a bigger bag. Can never go wrong with more pockets. I retrieved a cardboard box from the electronics store and filled it with as much as it would hold. Which was a lot, considering it was all broken pieces of plastic and wood.

Partway through my collecting, a suit wearing man wielding a baton came skulking into the alleyway.

"Oi. Clear off," he yelled. Enforcer, fuck. I grabbed my box of parts and sprinted away. "Stop!" He yelled. 

He wanted me to stop now? He just told me to leave!

I didn't stop. I did learn that flip-flops were not great for running. Darting up a small hill that divided the back of a store from the street above it, I stumbled over the top, my box flying out of my hands. Rolling instead of falling flat onto my face let me pull my flip-flops from my feet and stuff them into the rabbit pouch. Totally on purpose.

But the burly man reached me before I could scoop up the box and run. He grabbed my arm in a death grip.

"Got you!" I squirmed, trying to break free. "Stop squirming!" He yelled into my face. I flinched. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Coco and Fufu were left back at the PRT. My skinny arms provided no defence from a man three times my size.

He grabbed his walkie-talkie with his other hand and started speaking into it. My rabbit was unzipped from the flip-flops. I grabbed the pepper spray can from inside with my free arm. After a quick calculation, I angled it so it would shoot under his sunglasses. I clenched my eyes closed and fired.

The man yelled in surprise, stepping backwards and letting me go. His step took him to the edge of the hill and I watched him tumble down just as my eyes opened. With no time to waste, I grabbed the box and bolted.

Running barefoot in a city, even the clean parts, wasn't an amazing idea. I understood why Victoria wanted me to have shoes. Small stones dug into my feet as my pounding steps carried me away from the danger. People gave me odd looks as I passed them by. No one stopped me.

Even when each breath caused me physical pain, I didn't stop. I ran all the way home. Enforcers weren't someone you wanted to be caught by. They delivered their lessons with broken bones and bloody noses. I ran into Heather's back garden to avoid being seen from the front.

I slumped against the wall, sliding down the white panelling that made up the outside of the house. Each slat bumped against my spine as I slid down. It wasn't nice. I didn't care.

I buried my face in my hands and cried. He was going to hurt me, and I was powerless to stop him. I needed protection. Something I could wear in civilian clothes without it being seen. Or, maybe, body enhancements? A power like Aegis' would be useful. He told me it nullified pain, as well as letting him adapt to almost anything.

That would be my next project. 

Something small, concealable, was what I needed now. It also had to be non-lethal. As scary as enforcers were, they were still people. I wouldn't kill.

It took a while to calm down and go inside. My new toys met my new floor, and formed the basis of a hoard worthy of a dragon. Eventually, at least. Dream big.

…

I was allowed into the PRT building whenever I wanted. It stored my costume, as well as housed my Tinker lab, and even kept a room just for me. Decorating it was still filed under 'TBD'. There was a secret back entrance that allowed you to go inside without being seen by the public, even in civvies.

I greeted the PRT agents stationed outside before heading inside. They were nice people, but they rotated shifts so I didn't get to know them that well.

I knocked on the door of Armsmaster's workshop.

"Come in," he said from inside. The door slid open, silent as a whisper. 

Armsmaster's workshop was part office, part workshop. Kind of like the café Victoria took me to. Parts of it looked like it belonged in a skyscraper office fit for a seventies businessman. The other half looked like it was a mechanics garage.

Armsmaster had his helmet off. He had dark-brown hair, shaved down. He looked like a fairly generic person. Not unattractive, just similar to other adult men I'd seen. I wasn't sure how to gauge the attractiveness of a person older than me. He spun around in his chair, the swivelling office kind.

"Raccoon Knight," he smiled, "what can I do for you?" He gently tossed the screwdriver he was holding down on the desk.

"I was wondering if I could have one of Shadow Stalker's tranquilliser bolts?"

"I don't mind," he said, reaching over to open a drawer. Inside was a satchel with several bolts inside. "But why not ask Shadow Stalker herself?" He fished one out of the hooks that held it to the satchel and handed it over to me.

"She's… She likes her stuff. I don't think she would have said yes," I said. Sophia was the type of person who liked solitude. The other Wards didn't talk to her, and she didn't talk to them. I hadn't yet tried myself, since she was either out on patrol or not at the Ward's HQ.

"That's true," he said, shrugging. "Is that all?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Thank you, Armsmaster." It was strange calling him that when he wasn't in costume. He'd never told me his name.

He smiled at me.

***

Invisible Tinker lights greeted me as I flipped the switch. I still hadn't figured out where they were. I flipped the sign on my door to 'No Disturbing'. It locked and displayed a red tab outside on the handle. Protectorate members could override the lock with their fingerprints.

I cleared a space on my workbench and grabbed a few components. My wire had arrived already, which was nice. No time for it right now.

Once the process had started, I couldn't go back. I had to set up every single piece ahead of time, triple-checking to make sure every part was there before starting.

The tranquilliser dart was simple. My power wouldn't let me use it for anything, but with a shove, it did tell me how it functioned, letting me get ideas on how to make something similar. A simple plunging system that was activated by the sudden stop in momentum from firing it. Not quite what I needed. The liquid inside was a concoction I was unfamiliar with.

My computer monitor flared to life. It was always on, just sleeping. 

"1 New Email," the screen read.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Tranquilliser Darts

Hello Raccoon Knight,

I've included the schematics for the tranquilliser dart, as well the liquid inside. You're authorised only to use the liquid in its current structure. Any changes will need to be approved by the Tinker board, as usual.

Signed, Armsmaster.

2 attachments.

Neat. Learning his confusing-but efficient-syntax took about half an hour.

Scanning through the schematics helped a lot. The dart was what I expected–nothing special–but the tranquilliser was more impressive. It had adaptive components to not kill anyone whose body weight didn't match the dosage. The dosage was relatively low, not enough to harm anyone. It was a sacrifice to not kill normals, but meant brutes needed several shots rather than just one.

I sat back and let my power flow. Finding a perfect solution, like Armsmaster had, wasn't in my wheelhouse right now. I didn't have a chemistry set, let alone chemicals. I could make tranquillisers that were intended for animals, and could put down a human. They'd need to be made in several different doses to not overload someone's system. It also didn't bypass allergic reactions like Armsmaster's darts did.

The more I thought about it, the more impressive it became. My power hummed and hawed trying to figure out how he did it. Ultimately, it required materials I either didn't have access to yet, or would probably ever. By the end, my power and I were both sulking.

Why couldn't it be easy? Maybe I can use the liquid from this bolt? 

I hadn't expected my power to actually consider it. There was a long pause before it gave me a resolute 'No'. Okay. 

Then what if I found a dart that had missed? 

Grudging acceptance. Shadow Stalker wasn't one to miss, or to leave a bolt lying around, though.

Back to the drawing board. Tranquilliser design was out the window. What other less-than-lethal methods existed? 

Maybe something like Coco was now capable of? A piston of sorts to enhance my punches. I'd still need to learn to fight, but it could catch someone off-guard. 

Nah, too cumbersome and too time consuming to learn how to fight.

Wards were required to learn martial arts in addition to general fitness. Dancing around with lawyers due to my living situation had delayed my start somewhat. I would learn to fight eventually, but by then the piston punch wouldn't be as useful. A lightweight device was still my best option.

Some kind of spray? A gas? 

A liquid version of my stink powder made the most sense. It would need to be able to keep for a long time, preferably with no leaking. Fishing through my hoard netted me with a miscellaneous pill capsule. Perfect.

I split the pill in two, letting the dust from inside fall onto a plastic film sheet. 

Could be useful for something, even if I didn't know what it was. 

The PRT food hall had agreed to give me waste food but only on request. We weren't on a first name basis quite yet, but the staff were pleasant to talk to. I left with a bag full of scraps from breakfast.

Mulching them down into a version of the stink paste was easy. Bash, bash, bash with my fists. Then drain the liquid from the mulched food through a cheesecloth into the pill capsule, before putting the two halves back together.

Next up: the spraying device. Just a simple thing that worked similar to a water gun. Pump action, without the pump action part, just the spraying when pressure is routed through it.

A tiny device, smaller than my finger. I hooked the pill inside the ammo slot. The pipe that shot the liquid was split in two, when the front half folded up it would pressurise the back chamber with the pill, as well as split the cap off the pill to release the liquid in a spray. It would activate through a hand sign; my thumb pressed against the middle joint on the bottom of my middle finger.

Before the last steps, I needed one last material. One the PRT didn't have, but that could be found outside after just a little wandering…

It only took checking three alleyways to find the last ingredient. 

Which led me to the hard part. Surgery.

I grabbed some healing paste, running it around the base of the middle finger on my right hand. I prodded at the tip of the finger until it felt numb enough. Electrical burn scars across my pointer and thumb had faded well. My healing paste was worth every coin. If only it could heal the memories.

As part of my tool-kit, I was given these cruel looking scissors. Closer to shears. They were meant for cutting leather. I placed my middle finger between the blades and took a deep breath.

Cutting off your finger took a lot of force. It also hurt like fuck, even through the numbness. I squeezed the blades, biting back tears. After gruelling minutes, my finger was snipped off. It plopped down onto the workbench.

I cried out before muffling it with my hand. Fucking shit. I could only imagine the pain without the paste. I rubbed some of the paste against the wound, clotting the bleeding.

Still work to be done though. My finger went into a vice, nail pointing to the ceiling and I snipped it again, just past the last joint. It fell onto the floor. Damn it.

I picked it up, placing it back into the vice, this time with the nail down. Using a screwdriver I dug out the flesh a little to make some room. I did the same for the bottom half of the finger, making a lot more room. Installing the spraying device was the easy part. The cap of the finger would be the part that folded up.

Cutting a circle in the middle joint of the finger gave me room for a button. The skin was left behind. If it was over the top of the button the whole thing would look more natural.

After fifteen minutes the device was installed and ready to go.

Before sewing the cap of the finger back onto the bottom half, the cut nerves needed to be reconnected. My trip outside had granted me a rat carcass. Sorry my furry little friend. I apologised, before skinning it, and digging into the flesh to find its muscles. The rat's muscle sinew was used to reattach the nerves and muscles of my finger cap back to the bottom half. Then, a few stitches later, I had a complete finger again.

A few days of healing paste and the cuts would seal back together, good as new. Until then adhesive bandages would disguise it as a simple injury.

Reattaching the nerves from the finger to the hand was less trial and error than the first time.

I used a little glue to stick the bone back together. Sewing it back onto my hand was harder due to the weird angles needed to sew around the other fingers. There were also remnants of the healing paste that kept clotting up my needles. It wasn't easy.

Excruciating–both in patience and pain–minutes passed, but I managed it. It was a messy job. Sewing flesh was different from sewing the cloth for my gambeson.

Heather had given me cute finger bandages with little raccoons on them. After covering my finger in the paste, I wrapped them around my finger to disguise the cuts. To help keep it steady, a few small twigs acted as splints, kept secure with tape. Heather wouldn't be home for a while, letting me keep the splint on during the day, which should be enough to make sure it was fully secure. I could take it off before dinner tonight.

To avoid suspicion from the door guards, I stuck my hands into my dress pockets. No one noticed anything odd. Good.

Back at home I checked on the replies to my PHO post:

' can't even spell lmao'

' Raccoon Knight, you're just a knock-off Mouse Protector.'

' Guys, be nice. She's clearly retarded.'

' homeless trash. Go fight lung and do us all a favour'

' Vista's probably creeped out by you. Leave her alone!'

I stared at the words. I didn't know they made AI capable of emulating my mother.

Real clever, 'LegendisLEGEND27' comparing me to a skunk. Real fucking clever. Very imaginative responses. I had to look up a few of the words to understand it all better. I felt worse with every post.

Usually, I'd cry. Someone comes up to me and says mean words? I cry. An easy response. It made sense. It helped. But it was hard to parse it when it was words on a screen. I was angry, upset, and sad. I wanted to scream, to cry, and to break something.

My chair bounced off the wall with a crash. It didn't help.

I kicked my desk. It didn't help.

I threw my alarm clock at the wall. It exploded into a thousand pieces. It didn't help.

Tears forced their way out of me. I slumped down onto the floor, resting against my bed and cried.

I just wanted to be a hero.

Chapter Text

The head of PR looked like a corpse. An incredibly sweaty corpse named Michael. For a corpse, he made some good points. Don’t engage with people online. Don’t meet unfamiliar capes out of costume without parental permission. 

And most importantly; My phone needed to be on at ALL times, no matter what. 

I had to wear my earpiece to make sure I was notified even when it was set to ‘Do Not Disturb’. Since I didn’t check my phone, I missed when Heather had tried to warn me to not go back on to PHO after posting my, in Michael’s words, “Reputation damaging embarrassment of a message”.

Images of Victoria having breakfast with me were everywhere. Posts speculating who I was were deleted “faster than a bird can say cuckoo”. Michael had an interesting way with words.

Michael thanked me for giving him work that wasn’t related to Shadow Stalker or Clockblocker. Then he laughed, before telling me he wasn’t serious and that I shouldn’t try to get in more trouble. I didn’t plan on it. 

Victoria was receiving her own punishments for potentially breaching my secret identity. Meeting me in such a public place, not offering me the option to meet in costume first, and Dean handing out my private PRT phone number were all massive ‘no-no’s’ according to Michael. Secret identities were important. After he explained why it was so bad, I agreed.

Dean had received an earful from Piggot herself, who was much better with her words than Michael. Soldiers, like dockworkers, knew a lot of colourful language. Why did people call swearing ‘colourful’ language? Not that Ms Piggot swore. She didn’t need to.

Heather also grounded me for a week. Originally it was a day for every shard my alarm clock was now in, but that was three months worth of days. Grounding means only being allowed out to go to the PRT for work. At all other times I had to stay home, preferably studying, and my computer access was revoked. 

It was unusually nice for something that was supposed to be a punishment. No more closet time for me.

Heather even got me a big book on mythical creatures to pass the time and I was enjoying it immensely. Being grounded was pretty fun.

Each one flickered ideas into my head. Armsmaster suggested recording my Tinker thoughts so I wouldn’t forget them like I used to. He gave me a recorder he was no longer using. It was a bulky little thing that used cassette tapes. Heather bought me a huge box full of them on discount. I even got new Tinker material from the broken ones. 

My patrol schedule changed dramatically, due to Gallant and Glory Girl’s actions.

Clockblocker tried to go on patrol with me, stating that he was someone I was comfortable around. 

Piggot said, “Good idea, Clockblocker. Someone comfortable is an excellent idea. Kid Win, go with her.” I didn’t mind. Chris wasn’t as goofy as Dennis, but he could talk and talk and talk about Tinker things. Carlos was more mature, Team Leader. He joined us on patrol to keep me in line.

Actually patrolling, even with people I’d grown comfortable with, was a different thing.

Aegis, like Heather, kept a keen eye out for trouble. Even his stance subtly changed as we officially started the patrol. A scary reminder that danger was potentially around every corner.

Kid Win initiated conversation by telling me about his alternator cannon, and just kind of never stopped talking. Normal conversations left me feeling like a fish out of water. In Tinker conversations I was a Hydra. Removing myself from panicked thoughts of dealing with the public was a bonus. 

“I can use it against A-Class threats, maybe even S-Class. Each piece would teleport in independently to construct it wherever I need,” he continued. “Do you wanna check over the parts later on, just to double check it? Second opinion, and all.”

“Sure, I’d love to!”

He looked away from me for a moment. Not being able to see people’s faces sucked. 

You can’t see my face. Thoughts of an LED screen attached to my helmet to display my current emotions danced through my head.

I slid the microphone part of my new recording device into my helmet and recorded the idea. Handy. 

Kid Win glanced my way but didn’t interrupt, too busy interacting with the public.

Aegis and Kid Win greeted people like pros as they fawned over the passing heroes. Just simple hellos, but polite and courteous. Even stopping to sign stuff, or take pictures before moving on. They barely stopped for each one. I hope one day I can have signed so many things that it becomes a skill.

Something across the road caught my attention.

Cars were having to swerve around a car broken down on the side of the road. A man, reminiscent of Mr Tennant, stood over the engine looking annoyed. His balding head glistened with sweat in the sunlight. Jogging over I gave him a friendly wave.

“Hey! I can help, if you need it. Raccoon Knight, Tinker Extraordinaire.”

He blinked at me with big droopy eyes. “That’d be great. She just conked out on me randomly. You know much about engines?”

I twirled my wrench around my finger. Keeping my tools alongside my ammo pouches seemed a good idea at the time. And I was right! “Yep. I’ll have this done in no time flat. You can even time me if you want.” His engine was sputtering light smoke from a chimney looking part.

My power didn’t bother telling me the names of what I was fixing. Tighten this bolt here. Fix that doohickey. Tap that gizmo three times. Child’s play.

“Should be good. Try her out,” I said.

He leant into the driver’s side window and turned the keys. The engine rumbled to life, staying steady. Back from the dead! I was a Necrotechnomancer after all.

“Thank you so much, young lady!” He smiled at me.

“All in a day’s work.” I patted the roof of the car. “You should clear out, though. Traffic is being disrupted.” He nodded and left after I stepped aside.

Aegis’ hand on my shoulder startled me. “Good work. Next time, you need to inform me if you’re going to run off, though. Don’t need you getting in any more trouble,” he said in his mature tone. When he was trying to ‘leader’ you he would make his voice a bit deeper and speak like he was a wizened monk. It was pleasant on my ears, despite the condescension.

That was a new word I’d learned with all the extra time for studying.

“Sorry. Won’t happen again.” I gave him an earnest smile before remembering I was wearing my helmet. Another point towards the LED screen.

We continued our patrol. Patrols-despite my initial grievances-did serve a practical function: Exercise. Running around often left me winded and or with stitches. 

“How long do we-” I was interrupted by the screaming of children.

We were passing by a school. A handful of children just leaving spotted us and walked over. They crowded around Aegis and Kid Win, asking for autographs, and begging their parents to take their picture. 

A girl, around six or seven, approached me. She had her blonde hair tied into a braid, like my own. She smiled an unapologetic smile. 

“You look cool! Are you a superhero?” Her voice was raspy, like she had been yelling a ton the day before. I knelt down to be closer to eye level. My tail clattered a little as it settled onto the floor.

“Yep. My superhero name is Raccoon Knight. What’s your name?” I fished through memories of reading the public relations book. I only read it two days ago but there was so much legal jargon I could barely remember the words. 

“Jessica. But my superhero name is ‘Sparkle Blast’!” She punched the air, mimicking shooting blasts into the sky. An accompanying ‘pow’ was added to each one. 

“Woah! That’s so cool! I had no idea I had the honour of being in the great presence of the legendary superhero, Sparkle Blast!” I bowed my head down. “You honour me, my lady. Point me to whoever troubles you and I shall deal with them!” Heather gave me a book about knights from England (a fictional island near Europe) who kill aliens looking to invade earth. The knights all spoke funny; using lots of formal speech, and weird made-up words, like ‘thy’. 

“Um. I don’t have any enemies. Yet,” Jessica said. 

“No matter. Here,” I handed her a business card. Heather suggested I make some so people could learn who I was. After making about fifty she told me I didn’t have to make them by hand. “Call me if you’re ever in trouble, or need an enemy vanquished.” The card was simple, just my name, PRT phone number, and my logo. 

She took the card from my hand and then hugged me. I patted her back, unsure if I should return the hug. PR guidelines stated that contact should only be made with civilians if given permission or if they’re in an unresponsive state and it’s safe to move them. I wasn’t sure if someone initiating a hug counted as permission. 

Once she hugged her fill she waved goodbye to me and joined her parents. Children were being dragged away from Aegis and Kid Win. Lots of “We’ve got to go home, come on.” from annoyed parents. No one else approached me. 

After the boys were freed from the children’s clutches, we carried on. 

“Well handled, Knight,” Aegis said. I gave him a slight nod. Well handled. I handled it well. Good work, me.

“Children are so damn sticky,” Kid said, wiping down his armour with a wet wipe. 

“Remember that kid that wiped snot on you?” 

“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” Kid Win groaned. “At least I didn’t scream like Stalker did when that kid wiped yoghurt on her leg.” 

Aegis laughed, “Piggot yelled at her for hours. Cathartic, since she spent the day before telling Vista she was useless.” 

Before Kid could say more he was interrupted by our comms flaring to life. 

“Alarm tripped at Green Grove Pharmaceuticals on Harbour Road, about three blocks away from you. Check it out? Over.” Vista said over our earpieces. 

“On our way. Over,” Aegis responded. He swapped from his light, joking mode to practised soldier instantly. The effects were quieter, but still noticeable on Kid Win. I tried my best to imitate their learned calm. Cool, collected, that’s what I needed to be. 

The alarm wasn’t loud, but could hear it wailing as we ran closer. We stopped about thirty feet away from the store and I took the time to let Elel scan the area. The pharmacy was placed on the corner of the road, taking up two buildings worth of space with every other building surrounding it being storefronts. A road branched off around the building into a parking lot behind the pharmacy. Glass covered the pavement and the inside of the pharmacy from a shattered window. It twinkled in the sunlight like little stars.

Five figures showed up on Elel’s heat scan. One was floating in the air but seemed to still be walking around like normal. A short man? Another looked like a woman taller than me, currently making scooping motions. The rest were on the floor, covering their heads.

“Five people. One big, floating, maybe a man. The other is a normal looking woman, who seems to be helping. Three people cowering around on the floor. Over,” I informed the boys using our communicators.

Aegis nodded before flying off to the roof opposite the store. Kid Win held a finger up his visor, flicking a little dial between settings. 

“Mush, I believe. Not sure who the woman is, either a non-powered Merchant or Squealer. No Skidmark sited.” Aegis said, returning to us. “Requesting permission to engage. Over.” 

Seconds passed before Vista said, “Permission granted. Focus on rescuing civilians rather than capturing or fighting. Do not engage the unknown woman without confirming her power first. Over.” 

Aegis outlined a quick plan. Kid Win and I headed to the back of the building. He stayed back, levelling his spark pistol towards the door. I ducked closer to the door, just off the side. Coco hummed in my hands, raring to go.

The door exploded open; a woman surrounded by swirling debris spilled out of it. A duffel bag blocked the direct path to her side. I swung Coco in an arc instead, right into her stomach. Whatever caused the debris to swirl around her also caused Coco to be pulled along. 

Her power’s grip wasn’t stronger than my own muscle, and I finished the swing, albeit dampened. Coco wasn’t reliant on brute force. Even a gentle touch would do the trick. Swirly woman made a cute noise like a mouse before a giant mound of trash slammed into her. 

Copious amounts of heaven spilled from the door frame, carrying swirly woman along with it. Bolts like firecrackers popped against the side of the trash heap giant. An arm formed, scooping up the swirly woman who complained at the motion. The giant reformed into the shape of a man, the bolts doing nothing to him. 

Aegis slammed into its chest, scattering debris across the parking lot. I used Fufu to fire stink pellets into the heap as Aegis backed off to regain momentum. A man’s face appeared, pink-skinned and thin. I adjusted my aim to hit him in the face. He flinched at the hits but didn’t seem to care about the smell that should be strong enough to make a dragon faint. 

Another hit scattered trash around us. A licence plate barely missed my head. Kid Win swapped tactics, flying up on his hoverboard to rain kinetic rounds from above using a different gun. 

“I’m good now! Put me down you big lug!” The woman slammed her fist into the trash heap man. He dropped her to the ground. She wasn’t graceful. 

Kid Win focused his fire on her. His bullets were usable by her power, as they joined the swarm that was building around her. I loosed shots with Fufu, which also joined it. No idea why I thought that would work.

Trash Guy's fist collided with Aegis mid flight. Aegis’ body tumbled back through the door they had exited from. Sparks exploded against Swirly Girl. She ducked behind her friend for cover. 

“That’s what you get for messing with me!” Trash Guy gloated, ignoring the spark shots. I unhooked my frisbola and threw it while they were distracted. Swirly Girl’s current position put her right next to his leg, which was the perfect place for the bola to wind around. 

Practising my throw for hours paid off as it wound around his leg, ensnaring the woman along with it. “Yes!” I jumped for joy. 

A giant fist slammed into me while I was in mid air. Tumbling head over heels was getting tiring. 

Metal scraped against concrete as I slid across the parking lot. While recovering from my tumble, I saw Aegis rip off the entire arm of the man. Kid Win swapped back to kinetic rounds, and seemed to be trying to sever the leg Swirly Girl was tied to. It wasn’t effective. 

My armour was covered in scrape marks, but otherwise fine. Nothing that wouldn’t buff out. 

Trash Man was flailing around, trying to both hit Aegis and run away. Aegis threw the arm aside to continue his battering ram routine. Each hit left a dent, and scattered more trash. My current weapons weren’t useful; fortunately for me, this man acted like a yard sale. I scooped up bits and pieces from the parking lot, slotting them together while running closer to the fight. 

I just needed to set up a good hit for Coco. He was human underneath all that. Aegis pummelled the man once more. A trash-hand grabbed him before he could retreat. 

Concrete cracked as Aegis slammed into the ground. Again, and again he was hefted up, then back down. Tossed around like a kid who hated their teddy bear. Kid Win tried his best to aim for the man’s body, but Trash made for an effective shield. 

I pulled a wire attached to my new device. It coughed into life. I threw it as hard as my weak little arms could manage. My new device rolled in front of Trash Man, who glanced towards it. 

A mighty ‘whoomp’ sounded as air exploded from my grenade. Trash scattered from the man’s form, littering us all in a rain of its glory. Dazed, the pink skinned man stared at nothing with large, shocked eyes. 

Coco’s cold metal met his flesh. His scrawny body tensed up. I saw his pot belly roll up as he dry heaved. My hit caused him to stumble away. Before I could move to pry Aegis free from his grip, the hero was thrown across the tops of the buildings. Trash Man fell to his knees, making noises like a cat throwing up. 

I stepped around to give Coco a better angle. As I speared her towards him, I activated the piston mechanism. Trash reformed around his body to stop Coco’s empowered punch. It engulfed her, pulling her deeper into his form. I grabbed her with both hands, pulling with all my might. My heels scraped across the ground as I was dragged along with her. 

Coco slipped from my grasp, breaking down as she joined the Trash Man’s form. 

“No!” I yelled.

The man stood to his full height, readying to punch me. Sparks exploded against his head, causing him to stumble. I punched him in the stomach. Vomit splattered against my armour.

Swirly Girl tackled me from behind before I could go for a follow up swing. I heard Kid Win’s bolts being fired, hopefully they were hitting. Noises like rain splattered against my helmet as we rolled. 

I had been trained to break free of grabs. Just wish I remembered how it went. Three days of training didn’t make me an expert. My elbow met flesh as I tried to wriggle from her grip. The hail storm intensified over the course of a second. We kept rolling. Plate armour did wonders to stop scrapes. 

As our roll lost momentum, I found myself facing the sky, the woman beneath me. Debris swirled around me, pelting against my armour. It only travelled in one direction, so turning my head the opposite way protected my helmet. At the speed they were going, they’d crack my lenses. 

Prying at her fingers didn’t help. She had incredible grip strength. I grabbed her wrists, digging the clawed tips of my gauntlets into her flesh. She screamed, momentarily losing her grip enough for me to pry her hands clean. I rolled off, keeping a tight hold on her wrist. 

Once free I pulled her arm to flip her over, and held it down behind her back. She was skinny, like me, but was older and taller. Before I could grab her other arm she started to shove me off. I pulled a marshmallow containment grenade from my pouch and slapped it against her wrist. With her bucking I was thrown away. 

It swelled to the size of a beach ball within seconds, sticking her hand to the back of her shirt. She spun around, craning her neck to see it. 

“What the fuck!” Swirly Girl yelled. Pushing all of my body into a lunge, I tried to tackle her. She ran to the side, and my momentum carried me right into the pharmacy wall. 

Bashing your head against bricks–even with a foam padded helmet–fucking hurt. A foot slammed into my ribs. That part didn’t hurt me at least. Swirly Girl cursed, grabbing ahold of her foot with her free hand before losing her balance and falling onto her butt. 

I threw another marshmallow grenade at her. My aim was off, hitting her face instead of her arm. Oh well, it was breathable. She rolled to the side, her yelling muffled by the foam. Sticky marshmallow goop connected with the ground and stopped her movement. 

“Silent, you have the right. Remain it. Court of law. Lawyer. If you want?” That wasn’t what I meant to say. 

A car alarm blared out. I blinked, trying to parse what I was seeing. The monstrous form had crushed a car beneath it as it bounded away. Two flying figures chased after it. Weren’t there people inside?

I stumbled inside to find no civilians. Right, Aegis did his job. His side of the plan got the villains away from the civilians and drove them out the back door. My heat vision let me inform Kid Win if something went wrong. 

Swirly Girl was writhing, trying to move, but kept getting more marshmallow stuck to things. 

“Vista. Cutie. Awesome girl Vista. I have arrested Swirly Girl. You’re my favourite. Cool,” I informed Vista over the radio. Zip ties (finally remembered to pack some) met Swirly Girl’s remaining wrist. 

“What?” Vista said over comms.

“Hey, breathing? One finger for yes,” I said to Swirly Girl.

She raised her middle finger towards me. Okay, good, still breathing.

Aegis landed next to me. “I’ll take it from here, Knight. You need to see the paramedics,” he commanded. 

“Silly. I have healing magic.” I flicked healing paste coated fingers at him. It splattered against his armour. He placed a hand over my arm. 

“Come on.” His voice was gentle as he led me around the building. After placing me in front of a paramedic, he went back to Swirly Girl. 

The paramedic was a young woman in the medic version of a PRT uniform. She guided me into the back of a PRT ambulance with soft words and gently cooing. I struggled to pay attention to her words. They slipped over my brain like butter. 

***

Hitting your head wasn’t great. It leads to things like concussions. Medicine made my head feel fuzzy, but better. The paramedic said it was only a mild concussion. Which was still bad, just less bad than as bad as it could have been. The initial confusion was the worst of it. 

Piggot took the time to visit me in the recovery room. How nice of her.

“Raccoon Knight. Our conversations have been brief so far. I’d like to keep it that way.”

I nodded to show I was listening.

“I’m glad you agree. Aegis informed me that you did good work today. Interacting with the public in a healthier manner than your initial introduction, as well as making an arrest practically solo. Normally, I’m not one to praise people for simply doing their job; but it is a marked improvement of your first day out. Keep it up,” she said. I nodded. 

“Now, the reason I’m here is to tell you I’m docking your pay. Not only did you use an unknown Tinker device without proper sanction; you also did unlicensed repairs to a civilian’s car. Neither of which are acceptable behaviour,” Her voice didn’t change tone from her first words but they felt more stern. 

“What’s wrong with fixing someone’s car? And I needed the air grenade to reveal Trash Man’s body.” 

“You are not a licensed mechanic. And all Tinker devices need to be approved before use in the field, no matter what. Just because your power works on the fly, doesn’t mean you should use it on the fly.” 

“But-”

“No buts. This isn’t a discussion. Your pay is being docked. I wish you a speedy recovery.” She turned and exited the room before I could argue further. 

Maybe my brain was still hazy, because I didn’t understand that one bit. I helped that man get to wherever he needed to be. Without me he’d still be stuck out there, waiting for someone to come fix his car. Or he’d call a mechanic. But that meant having to pay! 

The air grenade was the only reason Coco or Kid Win could hit Trash Man. 

Coco… She had been consumed by the giant. Tears streamed down my face. I lost my best friend. Dead and buried inside a gross goblin looking man’s mulchy body. 

Grieving didn’t feel like enough.

***

April came before the doctors cleared me to go back into the field, with bed rest taking up most of my days. Heather surprised me with a laptop. A gift for my first official arrest, she said, and to give me something to do while stuck in bed. 

I avoided PHO like the plague. 

There was plenty more to see than stupid people being stupid. Like stupid people being stupid but on video. 

Wikipedia held a treasure trove of information. Live streaming functioned like the news did; a recording broadcast with a slight delay. I had no idea the news was live until reading that handy article. 

After searching for: “cool tinker devices video”, I found a website full of videos from a Californian Tinker called ‘Smith & Welding’. He made pistols, and rifles that could do really neat things. One of them fired bouncy bullets that kept bouncing for a day after he left. They were less-than-lethal but left welts. The website acted as an archive for Smith. Usually he would live stream the videos and then they’d be deleted forever. Someone took it upon themselves to save them instead.

Smith wore a cowboy themed costume. When his long coat flipped open you could see all of his guns lining his body. By my count there were close to sixty. Plus three extra rifles on the outside of his coat. 

He was a villain, or at least trying to be. His acts of crime involved rushing into places, shooting his cool guns, grabbing an item, and vanishing. A few days later the item would be returned to where he got it from. He was in it for the thrill, not caring about the material wealth. It was just a game to him. 

People sometimes were hurt. Those ones weren’t fun to watch. Usually he yelled goofy catchphrases in a fake Texan accent. At least, TenGallonMan53 said it was fake. 

Being inspired by a villain probably wasn’t the best, but I did come up with new ideas by watching him. Fufu deserved a treat, and the firing mechanisms that didn’t use gunpowder were neat. 

Being back in my lab felt like coming home. It had been kept clean in my absence. 

Three ideas were at the front of my brain. Fufu came first. 

She received a new firing mechanism that used air propulsion rather than pressurised air. Her trigger now activated a bellows, which fed air into a circle before feeding it into the pipe. It caused her firing rate to suffer by milliseconds. A fair trade for unlimited firing. 

My belt couldn’t hold all of my tools. I had to be selective when travelling. 

I fashioned together a rotating handle. The heads of each tool would be held in a reserve container. With the press of a button the head of the tool would retract, and be replaced by the next one in line. The former tool would fold back inside, shoving out the next tool to the rotating part. It let me carry around all my hand-held tools in one handy little device. 

A wrench, three different screwdrivers, a hammer, a pair of pliers, and scissors. It had space for a few more tools. Prying away the heads without my power’s assistance took brain power, and copious amounts of Wikipedia.

A text appeared on my phone.

Victoria: i’m sorry for getting you in trouble 

Victoria: I should have asked first before asking you to come in civvies

Victoria: don’t blame dean. i forced him to give me your number

Raccoon Knight: im not mad

Raccoon Knight: PR told me it was dumb and i shudnt have done it

Raccoon Knight: i liked eating ice cream with you

Victoria: 😀 we can get more when my mom stops yelling at me

Raccoon Knight: ok 

The phone clattered onto the counter. Her siren song was too strong. It was even capable of travelling digitally. 

I pressed my face into my hands. Victoria meant well. Making me talk with Michael wasn’t part of her plan. Talking with her left me feeling queasy. Or maybe that was the remnants of my concussion. 

Glory Girl was a siren. A creature of the sea that lured sailors to their deaths with a song so alluring they couldn’t help but crash their ship into the rocks. 

She sang her siren song and I crashed.

I flicked between the different tools on my multi-tool. It was enjoyable listening to its clicks and clacks as it swapped between them. 

Maybe Coco’s successor could do something similar. Armsmaster’s halberd's level of versatility would be nice. I sketched out a bigger version of my multi-tool. Including different heads. A spear head was an obvious addition. Something nausea inducing… 

My power shoved back when I tried to think of another version of Coco’s vertigo ability. What gives? A feeling of wrongness filled me as I tried to push further. Alright then. Be that way.

No nausea. How about a nozzle head that fired bursts of air? Ideas flowed through me. 

I set to work.

***

Dede, the Fractal. 

A fractal was a shape that repeated itself inside of itself, forever. Infinity. Each piece of a fractal contained infinitely more fractal. I watched hours of videos just zooming in on different fractals. They mesmerised me through the fog of my medicine. 

Dede sported five different heads, with space to add more. Armsmaster would be proud of how much I managed to store in such a tiny space. Each part folded in on itself, and then folded in some more. Of course, I had to use one of Armsmaster’s highly efficient batteries to power her. It wouldn’t be right not to. 

His concept, his battery. 

A spear, with a syringe system to deliver things if I ever came up with something to deliver. 

A hammer with shock absorbers to stop my hands feeling it. 

A nozzle capable of blasting high-velocity air. Her counterweight held the vacuum that powered the air blasts. In a pinch she could also suck in air. The blasts should feel like getting punched by a grown man. 

An axe, to break through doors. Like a firefighter. 

Last but not least; a pogo stick, powered by a similar piston design to Coco. Foldout footholds were positioned near the top of the shaft. Testing it out in the training room let me get some serious air. I sailed around ten feet into the air. 

Landing sucked. I lined up plenty of training mats beforehand to cushion my fall.  

To counter this, I added shock absorbers (like the hammer) to my armour’s shoes. Adding them to my helmet as well was an obvious choice.

Approval for use in the field could not come faster. 

***

During my absence, we received a new hero. 

Meeting him required social energy. An energy less spent than my physical energy.

His name was Browbeat. Formerly an independent with a decent arrest record. Much better than my time as an independent. Everyone else had introduced themselves, and mostly unmasked. Sophia chose to remain masked. I had to remember to only call her Shadow Stalker around him. Why did she unmask to me but not him?

I knocked on his door at the Ward base. 

“Come in,” he said. His voice was gruff but not in a raspy way. 

Browbeat stood waiting for me, his costume still on. Dark blue, diamond print covered spandex was an interesting choice. His mask only left holes for his eyes; a big crystal adorned his forehead. 

“Hello. I’m Meadow. Raccoon Knight. I was on sick leave due to a concussion. Thought I should introduce myself.” I wasn’t wearing my own costume, just regular clothes. “You don’t need to unmask to me, if you don’t want to,” I assured him.

He took his mask off. Like everyone else around here, he was handsome. Boy-next-door handsome more than model handsome but what difference did it make? I smiled at him.

“Uh, Dillan. Browbeat. You’re a Tinker, yeah?” 

“Yep.” 

“Okay. Well, I’m still unpacking,” he gestured to the room around him.

“Right, right. I’ll leave you to it. My lab is always open if you wanna talk, I don’t stay in my room much. I can also make you some cool gadgets if you want. Tell me your power, sometime.” 

“Alright. Will do,” he gestured to the door in a way that clearly meant ‘Leave me alone.’ 

I left.

Social things weren’t either of our graces. I did want to get to know him better. I’ll ask him what he likes next time we talk. 

Back home I looked up how to make friends.  

Chapter Text

Exercise consumed my daily routine. Alongside combat training, weapon training, and general fitness training, I was expected to run on a treadmill almost every day, increasing the time I ran with each passing day. Walking on patrols didn’t make the time go lower, much to my annoyance. Even on the days I had no exercise, I was required to do stretches.

I thanked whatever star my power fell from for giving me a light-weight alloy to make my armour from. Running around in steel full-plate wasn’t impossible—knights did it all the time, but even with their fantasy magic, they still had human bodies, and, unlike me, knights were trained soldiers with a lot more muscle mass. 

An advanced protein could be created to expedite muscle growth and provide all calories needed per day.

I would miss food too much with that idea.

An advanced protein could be created to expedite muscle growth and provide no calories.

That worked better. The formula in my head would encourage muscle growth but still take time. 

An alternate, faster idea would be to deliberately tear my muscles and then use my healing paste to let them form back faster. Problem is, my healing paste would need to be placed on the muscles. Not logistical.

Exercising so much made me eat more. I didn’t mind. Food is delicious. 

Combat training with Heather came with a plus and a minus. The plus was that, alongside being useful, it was incredibly fun. 

The minus was that ‘going easy’ did not exist in Heather’s dictionary. Even on patrol days I was worked to the bone.

She trained new Wards in hand-to-hand combat. Despite being my foster mom, I wasn’t an exception. Training for hours was doable. I could manage. Going home after a long-day of training, patrols, and social interactions just to have Heather’s face remind me of the turmoil wasn’t fun. 

Being grabbed by Whirlygig–I was so close to her name–proved how useful the techniques could be. Being useful didn’t stop my arms and legs from feeling like noodles afterwards.

On the other hand was weapons training with Miss Militia. It trumped all other forms of exercise as my favourite. Rigorous exercise could be fun if you cared more about the subject matter. 

Hannah (Miss Militia’s secret identity!) could summon almost any weapon in existence. A green-black blur would zip around her body and transform from sword to gun to crossbow. Seeing them in real life beat seeing them in books by a mile. 

I convinced her to swap between a bunch of different weapons for a while. I got to see a falchion, a dagger, a spear, and a big german sword I forgot the name of. 

She put a stop to it after those brief glimpses. Instead, she promised to use them during the sparring. It was obviously a motivation tactic. It worked.

Each day my arms, already sore from hand-to-hand, protested. They were overruled. 

She focused on the spear for the majority of our training. Coco (Rest In Peace) was close to a spear in design, and Dede was no different.

Dede’s approval process had been fast tracked to accommodate for the lack of a ‘main’ weapon. A day after I made her, she was approved for use in the field. 

Front flipping off a pogo stick took a lot of practice. Miss Militia kindly informed me of the impracticality of using it in a combat scenario, and proposed I focus on using it only for transportation. Additional safety measures were needed before I could use the pogo head in the field anyway, so I relented. 

Dede couldn’t be disarmed due to the metal wires that connected her to me. They ran into compartments on the back of my shoulderpads, one for each shoulder. Any of my weapon devices could slot into grips on my palms to connect to the metal wires. 

Much to my dismay, we stuck to foam weapons for our training. Even if they looked realistic and were fun to whack against people, I wanted to use real weapons to get used to the weight.

After being taught the basics of hand-to-hand and weapons, I was allowed to live practice using a partner. Vista volunteered. She, like Heather, did not hold back. 

We were equal in reach, but her strength beat my own by a lot. Vista had been a hero for a while and took her training seriously. 

Each blow came with both a physical and a mental lesson. She’d hit me, which would build muscle memory for dodging in the future, and then tell me how to adjust to fix it. Something was off about a twelve-year-old being able to fight this well. Me learning to fight also felt off.

Fighting was important. Heroes needed to fight to rescue people from villains. There wasn’t an issue in understanding why I needed to learn to fight. I was fourteen. Fourteen-year-olds should be spending time with their friends, and worrying over dating, makeup, and school. At least according to a magazine Vicky had recommended I read. 

“Vista,” I asked her after our sparring was over. She hummed in response. “Why’d you become a hero?” 

I hadn’t expected the question to stump her. She mulled it over for a good while. “I wanted to help people who can’t help themselves,” she finally answered. Vista gave me a mock salute. “Gotta go wash up. Have fun with Browbeat.” 

It was a noble reason. I became a hero to help people, too. I wanted to help those who didn’t receive help from the world around them. What most would consider the dregs of society. 

I went over to watch Browbeat sparring. Fighting him was off the table. Even without his biokinesis he would slam me to the ground with no effort. Watching him fight became something of an unofficial lesson. He was a Brute, and watching him fight might give me ideas on how to overcome other Brutes.

Browbeat received his own instructor. A beefy man named Sergey. 

Browbeat inflated. Which wasn’t scientifically accurate to how his power worked but it was the best word for it. He had a fine level of control over his body, often using it to pack on muscle mass and add armour plating.

Sergey wasn’t a slouch when it came to fighting, and certainly wasn’t lacking muscle mass himself. Browbeat, even without using his Telekinesis, just didn’t go down. Each hit was shrugged off like he was a brick wall. 

I didn’t think it made for interesting training, but Sergey seemed pleased. 

Their fights involved a lot of meaty sounding punches against Browbeat’s power enhanced flesh. Sergey told him it was to ‘Get him used to being hit,’ which would apparently happen a lot as a Brute. A Brute was someone who could get hit a lot, which didn’t seem like a fun power to have. At least they got to punch holes in things.

He didn’t get much of a chance to punch back. Sergey was only human, and Browbeat’s fists would probably turn him to mulch. All of Browbeat’s hits were to a training dummy that would bounce around wildly after each punch. Sergey existed to teach him the physical moves and grapples. And also apparently to punch him a lot. 

I approached him after he’d finished his training. “Hey, Dillan,” I said. He nodded to me, wiping sweat from himself with a towel. His muscle mass deflated as we spoke. 

Could he modify Tinker assets put inside of his body? I could add an extra organ that produced graphene for use in his shielding.

“I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to go get some food?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Alright. I have a patrol soon.” 

“Great! We can just use the PRT cafeteria, not too far.” He shrugged again and stood up. I wasn’t sure if the shrug meant ‘Yes, the cafeteria sounds okay.’ or ‘I guess it’s better than nothing.’ 

I accepted my victory and led him there. 

It wasn’t great food but it was filling. We ate in relative silence. He didn’t seem to care enough to breach it. 

“So, I was wondering… why’d you become a hero?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“It was something that let me use my powers,” he answered right away. 

“You became a hero just to use your powers?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. 

“You can’t be a hero for the sake of it.” 

“Why not?” 

Why not? Why not?! Why… not? Could you be a hero for the sake of it? “You… most people become one to help people. A hero helps people, and you need to want to do that. Right?” 

“A lot of people become heroes for fame. Not everyone is so altruistic,” he said, giving me a level stare. “Helping people is never for the sake of it. Even if it’s at the back of their mind, people help others for recognition, praise, money, you name it.” 

I’ll look up ‘all-true-is-tick’ later. 

“I help people for the sake of helping them,” I said.

“No you don’t. You might not realise it, but no one’s motivations are that simple. Maybe you do it to get away from your life? Maybe it’s so people will take you seriously? I don’t know, I’m not you. People don’t do things for the sake of doing them, there’s always a reason.” His voice was steady. He wasn’t yelling or arguing. He was as matter-of-fact as discussing the weather. 

The sky is blue. People aren’t true heroes. 

I shook my head. “No. I don’t agree. Back of the brain desires don’t mean anything if the result is helping someone. Even if some people only do it for fame, at least they’re still helping people.” 

“What if they’re not?” 

“Huh?” 

“What if they only help people when it’s recorded? What if they don’t care outside of the camera? There’s plenty of heroes who end up in jail,” Dillan said. He shoved a forkful of mash into his mouth. “What about those people?” 

“A bad apple doesn’t spoil the bunch, though, right?” Not that there wasn’t anything wrong with eating bad apples. A bruised spot was perfectly edible.

“I’ll concede that. A person is accountable for themselves, and themselves alone.” He nodded in thought.

“That’s not true, either. People are responsible for others all the time. Like parents.” My mom was responsible for me, even if she messed it up. 

“If you had a kid, and that kid decided to murder someone despite you raising them right, is that your fault?” Dillan asked after a moment. 

I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that. “I don’t know. Maybe I could have done more?” 

He shook his head. “Nope. You did everything you could.” 

“I didn’t do enough if she killed someone. I could have done things differently, raised her differently.” 

“You’re stuck on ‘what ifs’.” Wasn’t this whole thing a ‘what if’ scenario? “She’s done it and there’s no turning back time. Are you responsible? Or at some point is she responsible for her own actions?” 

I wasn’t sure. If she did it despite me raising her as best as I could, then there must have been some outside factor. People don’t kill for the sake of killing. There’s a motivation behind it. Like Dillan thinks there is to being a hero! 

I slapped the table. Cutlery bounced in response. “You just said heroes save people because there’s some back of the brain idea that’s motivating them. Killing someone is the same thing. People have a reason to kill, just like they do being a hero.” 

“Sure. Let’s say she just wanted to kill because she thought it’d be fun. But that doesn’t answer my question. Is she responsible for her own actions?” 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be helped. There’s something motivating her, even if it’s just because she thinks it’s fun. There’s always a way to help her realise her mistake, to make her apologise.” I realised people were staring at us, and then realised why. I was speaking way too loudly. I apologised to the PRT agents who were eating and returned to an indoor voice. 

Dillan smirked at me. “Apologising won’t bring back the person she killed.” 

“No. It won’t. But if she’s served her time and realised her mistake, then she should be allowed back into society.” 

“And what if that leads to her killing again?” 

“Then… maybe someone wasn’t a good enough hero for her. Maybe the prison system didn’t work for her, didn’t get her the right help. Some of them are like that.” My dad had always said that prison was a place to rot and not a place of rehabilitation. He’d served time and come out worse than he was going in. He was wrong about a lot of things, though.

“Would you stop her?” 

“What?” 

“If you found her trying to kill again, after she left prison. Would you be willing to stop her?” 

“Of course. I’d arrest her if she was trying to kill someone.” 

“Would you be willing to take her life to save that person?” 

“I,” wasn’t sure. What kind of question was that? “Killing is wrong.” 

“Sure, but she won’t stop unless you kill her. She wants to kill that person, and if she can’t, she’ll kill you,” he pointed at me with his fork.

“There’s always a way to detain her. I have my devices.” 

“Second generation capes trigger easier. What if she isn’t so easy to take down? Like… Lung?” 

“Armsmaster is making a sedative for Lung. He’ll take him in without killing him. I could do the same.” 

Dillan shrugged. “Fair enough. I could say she’s immune but that feels like petty recess bullshit.” He gathered up his tray and utensils. 

“Would you? Kill, I mean. To save someone?”

“No. I don’t want that on my conscience,” he said, shrugging again. Dillan walked off, heading out to patrol. 

I stared at my mash potatoes. What was my back of the brain desire? I wanted to help an individual. Helping an idea of someone was nice, but not what I truly wanted to do. Seeing someone face-to-face, safe and sound because of me was the reason I became a hero. Tina kept her things and wasn’t hurt, because of me. 

What if Tina was a supervillain? If I saved her and she went on to kill a dozen people, am I in the wrong? Do intentions matter more than the results? It’s hard to judge people on intentions since they’re internal. Even with powers, reading minds wasn’t possible. At least according to Victoria. 

My brain hurts.

I spent the rest of the day researching it. There was an interesting article called ‘The Trolley Problem’. A thought experiment that says five people are on one track of a train, and one person is on the other. I have access to a switch that can divert the train from the track that has five people, to the track that has one person. What would I do?

My marshmallow containment grenades act as a dampener. I would throw a bunch of them in front of the train and stop it. I’d need a bigger source of them. The fifteen I had left wouldn’t be enough, and I only carried five at a time on me. 

What would I do without them, then? I would… Do… I don’t know. This was hard to think about. 

Was it right to take a life to save others? Did a hero's intentions matter more than their results? Could someone be a hero if they were just seeking fame?

I grumbled in frustration. Too many questions flooded my brain. I’d think about it on patrol.

Dennis greeted me at my lab’s door. He’d managed to weasel his way onto my patrol schedule for today. He’d traded favours with Aegis to get him to swap.

“Yo, Meadow. Grab Coco and let’s go beat up some bad guys!” He grinned at me before hiding his face behind his mask. 

My eyes grew wet with unwanted tears. “I… Um… I can’t.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight back the tears. 

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Dennis laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. The touch forced the tears out of me. 

“I can’t… She’s… She died,” I sobbed.

“Died?” His speech was monotone.

“Coco. She died to Mush.” 

“Jeez, I thought it was something serious.” Dennis let go of my shoulder. “Don’t worry me like that.” 

“What? It is serious! She’s gone and not coming back. I can’t even make her a sister.” I couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“Losing your stuff sucks, but it’s not worth crying over. And it isn’t ‘dead’, it’s a baseball bat,” his tone was cruel, condescending.  

“She was important to me. And… And now she’s gone. She died and you’re being cruel.”

Dennis moved his head like he did when he rolled his eyes. “It’s trash you literally pulled from a dumpster. Real people are dying. Real people are getting hurt. Get over yourself.” Dennis stormed off. My sobs stopped me from saying more anyway.

What did I do? He cared about me before. Why did he not care now? 

I fled to the bathroom to clean myself up. Puffy eyes greeted me in the mirror. My face was round, soft. A familiar scar lined my chin. Heather said it gave me an edge, something distinct. I was just glad my helmet hid it. 

I stared at myself in the empty bathroom, longing for my reflection to give me the answers I wanted. 

She didn’t know either.

***

Patrol was awkward. Having questions on what it meant to be a hero running through my head didn’t help either.

Clockblocker refused to talk to me. Kid Win tried to initiate conversation but I didn’t have the energy to try. He could clearly tell something happened between us, but didn’t push. We instead patrolled in silence, only breaking it with check-ins through the comms. 

I fiddled with the new additions to my armour. Using my pogo stick required additional safety measures. Even with them I still needed to wait for the approval process. I checked the pressure gauge in my sunglasses UI. Airbags were at normal pressure. Same as the last fifteen times I’d checked.

Nozzles attached to multiple points of my armour all read clean. With a specific eye gesture they would ‘breathe’ in and inflate the emergency floatation device hidden beneath my back armour panel. It was made from an inflatable pool, and would inflate like a lung, letting it act like a parachute or allowing me to float in water. 

I was looking forward to bouncing around like a tiger. Eye gestures were what Armsmaster used to activate his devices. Elel already tracked my eye movements for aiming purposes, so it was a no-brainer. 

Our patrol route took us through Empire territory. Crime was less likely here. Not because the Empire did less crime, but because their flavour of crime often involved shady business deals rather than peddling drugs. They still peddled drugs, just in the poorer neighbourhoods. Like my old one. 

Tattooed men tried to sell me weeds a year ago. I told them you can get weeds anywhere, and they were idiots, which caused them to chase me off. 

Our patrol wasn’t interesting, making the silence all the more intense.

According to the PRT guidelines, boring patrols would pass faster if conversation existed. It recommended that even if you didn’t personally like your patrol partner, you should engage them in light conversation to not have your brain drift. There were even guidelines to the healthy amount of conversation and safe topics. 

“How about that weather, huh?” I breached the silence with a PRT approved safe topic.

“What?” Kid Win said.

“The weather. How about it?” I wasn’t sure what I was asking about. The weather was fine, light clouds, okay temperature. 

“What’re you? Fifty?” Clockblocker laughed. It wasn’t a friendly laugh. 

“You feeling okay, Knight? You can call in if you’re ill,” Kid said.

“I’m okay. Just making conversation.” 

“Oh god. Did you read the patrol manual?” Dennis groaned. I nodded. “Just talk to us like a normal person, not a robot.” 

“Sorry…” I wasn’t sorry. Why should I be sorry to someone who was mean to me less than an hour ago?

“Whatever.” Dennis moved his head in his eye roll way. Kid glanced between us before returning his attention forward. 

Why did he have to say all that to me? I thought he cared about me. 

Our friendship didn’t mend by the time the patrol was over. 

It didn’t mend by the next morning either.

Exercise took my mind off things. Running on a treadmill with no outside stimulation made my brain drift, which meant daydreaming instead of thinking about what a jerk he’d been. 

My new tethers could be used as weapons in a pinch. Should Dede detach, I could swing them around like whips. Probably best to not hit non-Brutes with them. 

A new idea slipped into my brain, inspired by the treadmill and the mafia movie we watched last night. Electric shock knuckle dusters. Batteries could be loaded in like a shotgun. A nice addition to my gauntlet. I recorded it on my recording device, which now had plenty of stickers on it. 

Once my run was over, my brain–the betrayer–drifted back to Dennis. I still had no answers. Adults know things. Maybe Heather would know what to do?

Before our usual lesson began, I decided to ask her, “Have you ever had a fight with a friend?” 

She looked at me as she slid the training mat over. “A few times, yeah. Eli and I fought all the time. Why? You had an argument with one of the Wards?” 

“Yeah, with Clockblocker. He said I was stupid for mourning Coco. That real people died so I couldn’t mourn over her.”  

Heather walked over to me. “Clock might not understand your point of view. To him, she’s just an object. To you, she meant the world. He might not get how important things are to you.” 

“Exactly, I-” 

“But.” Heather interrupted me. “Try to think about how he feels. He might have seen people getting hurt a lot as a hero. He might even have people close to him that have been hurt or died. To him, you mourning what he views as an inanimate object is an overreaction.” 

“No, I get that. He told me as much. I know why he feels like he does, but she was important to me. Why can’t he get that?” 

“Listen. He doesn’t view Coco the same way you do,” she leant down a little to add to the condescension. I knew that he didn’t view Coco the same way. I wasn’t stupid. He even spelled it out to me. She was trash and not human, so she was less important. “He thinks that-” 

“I know that.” I tried to stress the word. “I know all of that. Stop repeating it like I’m too stupid to understand.” Heather stared at me, mouth agape. “I’m not stupid. I understand that he doesn’t think she’s real. That isn’t the point! She was important to me! He’s supposed to be my friend. He should care about it because he cares about me.”

Heather closed her mouth. “He should, yes.” She looked at me with a sad expression. “Clock should have considered your feelings, just as you should have considered his.” It wasn’t really an answer. Maybe adults didn’t know things.

I shrugged. “Okay. Thanks, Heather.” She frowned at me but moved on to her lesson.

I slumped down in my lab’s computer chair. Spinning helped my brain think. 

Dennis didn’t like me mourning Coco. Maybe he lost someone close to him. Maybe not. Did it matter if he was being a jerk to me over it? Would having an excuse justify his reaction? 

Probably. Having a bad day is an excuse for being mean. Not that it’s justified, but it only happened once. The rest of our relationship had been nice. He was a friend. I think. Maybe tomorrow we'll be okay. Time heals all wounds. 

That was a dumb saying. Time couldn’t regrow limbs. Tinkertech could, though. Maybe if I made him a Tinker device he’d like me again. I jotted down a few ideas for later.

An email flared my screen into life.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Mentorship AHOY!

Hey there Raccoon Knight! 

This is the big cheese! Most call me Mouse Protector. I  finally  tricked piggy into whitelisting me on your email for a professional, official on the books, meeting. WINK. 

I wanna meet up and talk shop (not Tinker shop I’d never keep up) tomorrow night! Piggy said your usual patrol can be replaced with going with me if you wanna. 

I promise snacks, puns, and a heckin good time. I’ll show you the ropes of heroing and teach you trade secrets even Legend doesn’t know! Whaddya say? Get back to me ASAP or you’ll be fined a million dollars. 

MOUSE PROTECTOR, THE BEST HERO

P.S. You should get a personal email and a business email so people don’t have to fight the hog lady to contact you

I blinked at my screen. With everything that happened since joining the Wards, I had completely forgotten that she wanted to meet up. I remember not even caring that much when Glenn brought it up. I was too tired, and apparently stupid. Mouse Protector had to be one of the coolest heroes in existence!

My swivel chair made clicking noises as I bounced on it. I get to meet Mouse Protector! How could I say no?

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: YES

YES I WOULD LOVE TO

***

Her costume resembled mine. The helmet with animal ears being the most obvious example. Instead of traditional armour, she wore modern armour similar to PRT agents. A shield was laid across her back. Large, circular, more of a dome than most shields I’d seen in my knight book. A sword, a real life actual sword rested against her leg in a scabbard. 

A belt hung from her waist, and two more were wrapped around her gloves. All three had pouches of varying sizes. 

She wasn't that much taller than me. Still taller, though. Waves washed behind her, lapping against the shore. Her pose oozed confidence and a cool collected calm as she leant against the railing between the street and the ocean. Even passing cars didn’t catch her attention as she stared over the water.

She glanced my way as I approached. A psychic sense of people? I gave her a wave to rival the ocean.

“Hey there, kid. Glad you could make it,” Mouse Protector greeted me. Her voice was chipper, upbeat. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” I said, and honestly meant it. Right now, there wasn’t anyone I wanted to be around more. Mouse Protector had never rivalled my love for Vista, or my interest in Miss Militia as a hero. Little could. Even my Tinker interest in Kid Win and Armsmaster wasn’t close. I respected them as heroes, but I would commit crimes if Vista asked me to.

Mouse Protector easily slotted into third place. Now second place due to Miss Militia hitting me with a stick for the past four days.

Her mouth was protected by a guard, but I saw her eyes smile like Miss Militia did. I guess she trained me in noticing that, as well as how to dodge a spear. 

“Excellent! Well, I wanna pour a whole ton of knowledge on you throughout the night, so how about we walk and talk. Anywhere you like to patrol, or want me to pick?” 

“Um, I usually go where I’m told. Tonight would have been a Boardwalk patrol.” I shuddered a little at the memory of my last one. 

“Bah, those are just PR patrols in disguise,” she swatted a hand through the air. “How about we go somewhere with some zest, a little spice?” 

“Sure,” I shrugged, “I don’t really mind.” 

“Don’t worry, kid. I’ll make a hero out of you yet.” She slapped me on the shoulder and began to walk. I followed along. 

Mouse Protector had a lot to tell me. As we drifted closer and closer to the North End, she kept talking and talking. I didn’t mind, it was useful advice. 

Such as using baby powder to stop chafing around the joints. Or sticking enough change for a payphone to some gum, which you could stick to the inside of your shoulder pads. 

“You could use a Tic-Tac box and some tape or glue instead of gum. That way you don’t need gum every time,” I told her as the idea came to me. It wasn’t even a Tinker idea. 

She swung an arm over my shoulder and pulled me close. She smelt flowery. 

“See, kid, this is what I’m talking about. You’re a bright young mind and we gotta unlock that, let you loose. Those PRT stuffs wouldn’t know a good idea if it hit them. Go, shoot, gimme another,” she pulled on my shoulders to make me face her. Her brown eyes bore into mine. 

“Uh… Um… I had the idea to make a metal-eating acid self-replicating to get rid of the Boat Graveyard.” 

“Woah, kid!” I flinched. Self-replication shouldn’t be done. Self-replication shouldn’t be- “That’s a grand idea! Look at you go. Now, we won’t be doing that tonight. Maybe in the future, though, yeah?” I blinked at her. She thought it was a good idea? 

“Yeah… Yeah! Okay,” I said, still stunned.

 Mouse Protector nodded her head in the direction we were walking. “Let’s keep going.” The smile in her eyes was obvious. 

We carried on. She believed in me, in my ideas. It was nice. 

***

We peeked over the edge of the building. Three ABB members were chatting, one of them scooping bags of drugs out of his backpack and into another.

I’m running rings around you! Just like my ringed tails! Nope. Dumb.

Mouse Protector picked a pebble off the gravel roof, no bigger than a flea. She dropped it down, ducking away from the edge while pulling me back too. 

There wasn’t even a noise. The men carried on their conversation as if nothing happened. She gave me a thumbs up before disappearing. A startled yell cried out from down below.

I leapt down from the roof. Falling was exhilarating. My stomach churned as the air rushed past me. Dede hit the ground first, compressing her springs. I angled her to launch me towards the now starting fight. 

“Cheesed to meet you, villains!” Mouse Protector yelled as she wrestled a gun free from one of their hands. The one shovelling drugs bolted as Mouse Protector threw his friend over her shoulder in a move that would make Heather proud.

I overshot my pogo stick jump, fortunately launching me right into his path. I twisted in the air to angle my feet towards the ground. Sparks flew as I skidded across the concrete. Grabby guy stared at me, wide-eyed. 

Looks like you got trashed? No, that doesn’t make sense.

Mouse Protector grappled the one without the gun, using her sword–still in its scabbard–as a hold. I flicked Dede to the next head; the air cannon.

A mighty ‘whoomp’ of air knocked the wind from the unsuspecting drug dealer. He stumbled back, clutching his stomach. Pained hazel eyes stared at me, accusing. 

“RACCOON PUN!” I yelled before throwing a marshmallow containment grenade at his hands. It caught and inflated before he had time to move them away from his stomach. He fell over backwards while trying to free his hands.

He yelled something in a language I didn’t know. I ran over to help Mouse Protector. The guy she had in her sword grapple was now face down on the ground and zip-tied. She stood up straight, dusting her tunic down with her hands. Easily the coolest hero. 

“Wait here, kid. Call the PRT, make sure you say we’re parahumans.” She kicked the dealer’s gun over to me. “Don’t touch that either, but keep it away from them. Be back shortly!” She vanished from sight. 

I looked around the empty street, squinting to see better in the gloom. Her power worked based on touch. Touching something lets her ‘tag’ it. Whatever she had tagged could be teleported to at will. From a small bit of gravel to an asian drug dealer. 

I zip-tied the legs of the two dealers for good measure. They could have potentially overwhelmed me if they tried. After my work was done, I called the police.

Mouse Protector would be fine on her own. I hoped. 

As Mouse Protector returned, I finished up my conversation with the nice PRT lady. Her name was Deborah and she thought I was ‘just swell’. Whatever that meant. Civilians knew about me, which was a strange feeling. Deborah’s kids kept asking for a Raccoon Knight figurine, I told her they’d be coming soon. 

Mouse Protector spoke to me after I wrapped up the call, “Good work, kid.” She clapped me on the shoulder. “Though, your punnery needs work.” 

“Ah… I panicked. I kept trying to think of puns but in the moment I couldn’t think of anything good.” 

“Fucking losers! Let us go!” One of the men squirmed under his constraints. It was the one Mouse Protector had to hunt down. 

“Shut yer trap,” Mouse Protector said, kicking his foot. He spat at her feet. She squatted down to be closer to eye level. He stared down his nose at her, despite her being higher up. “Think you’re tough, big man?” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you the moment they let me out.” 

Mouse Protector wobbled her hand at him in a ‘so-so’ gesture. “I’ve heard better. Good luck with that.” 

She stood back up and walked us a little further away from where they were resting. “First official hero lesson. Ignore all the baby powder stuff, this is the real meat and bones. You can’t let what people say get to you. That low-life shouldn’t scare you one bit. But more importantly, no one, and I mean no one, gets to insult you. Not even yourself. You gotta learn to be the bigger person, even when it hurts.”

“I don’t know if I can be.” I said, avoiding her gaze. People were mean to me a lot. Crying helped, but the sting remained. 

“I know, kid. They used to hurt me, too. But it’s just words, and that person leaves, goes home and doesn’t think about it. So why should you?” 

She explained it like it was so simple. Could it be that simple? “How do you not think about it?” 

“A classic case of sticky thoughts.” She tapped a gloved finger against my helmet. “You gotta learn to make those thoughts sliding thoughts, not sticky ones. It ain't easy, don’t get me wrong, but you’re a quick learner so far. I believe in you, kid.” She gave me a thumbs up and turned to check on our prisoners.

Sticky thoughts. That… made sense, actually. Mean things need to be slippy thoughts. I think I could do that, eventually.

As the police car arrived Mouse Protector whispered to me, “Lesson number two. The fuzz are just doing their job, same as us. Make sure your relationship with them is good and it’ll help in the future.” 

A male officer, bigger in both width and height than anyone currently here, and a female officer who was half his size–which was still tall–approached. Mouse Protector acted like they were old friends, happily chatting with them, cracking jokes. I was pretty sure they’d never met. 

We both gave our statements on what happened. Mouse Protector said I was waiting on the ground, which was a lie. I adjusted my story to account for that. The officers thanked us and went on their way. 

Mouse Protector slung an arm over my shoulder. “Good work, Raccoon Knight. You took down that guy in no time flat.” I shrugged her arm off me, stepping around to face her. 

“I don’t know how I feel about lying to the cops. Or about using something that wasn’t approved in the field. Miss Piggot docked my pay for using something unapproved before. And lying is wrong.” 

Mouse Protector stared at me for a second. “Alright. Lying is wrong. But you told me, remember, you didn’t wanna use your pogo stick. What did I do?” She pointed a finger to me.

“You told me I should anyway. That I made it so it was my right to use it.” 

“Exactly.” She flicked her finger like she was shooting it. “You know it’s safe, you made it in a way to be safe, yeah?” 

“It has stabilisers to stop me falling off easily. And I practised it a little during training already.”

Mouse Protector nodded. “You know it works. Your power hasn’t failed so far, yeah?” 

“Not... Not really, no. One time I did fail to think of the logistics of setting up a forge. I didn’t think about the smoke, but the forge would have worked fine.” 

“So, why start to doubt it just because some stuffed shirts aren’t clever enough to see it?” 

“I don’t want to get in trouble.” 

“That’s why I lied to the cops. A little white lie that doesn’t change anything, other than getting you in trouble. If I told them the truth then the PRT would learn about it, and you’d get in trouble for saving people.” She shook her head. “But my reasons don’t matter. If you don’t want me to do that again, you just say so. I should have ran it by you first but I thought you might say no. I wanted you to see how cool the things you make are.” 

Bouncing from a twenty foot drop had been fun. It let me catch up to the runner, something I wasn’t sure I could have done on foot. I could see why she did what she did but it still hurt. Another adult who lied to me so I would do what they wanted. 

“I don’t like people lying to me,” I said.

“Shoot. I did it again.” Mouse Protector cursed, kicking a rock. Did what again?

“I’m sorry, Knight. The PRT just ticks me off, and I let old grudges pollute our relationship. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again and here I am. That was shitty of me, and I’m so sorry,” she backed off a little. 

“You want me gone? I’m gone. You want me to buy you a triple chocolate fudge ice cream sundae and it’s yours. This wasn’t how I meant for this to go. I just got caught up in it all.” 

I looked at her. Something about the way she was speaking and the look in her eyes made me feel like she was telling the truth. This wasn’t what she meant to happen.

“I, um, I like bubblegum ice cream.” 

Chapter Text

Ice cream must have been a gift from the stars. I designated an ice cream cone shaped constellation in its honour. 

One of my first memories was seeing the stars out in the countryside, sitting beside my mom and dad. There were so many of them I could hardly believe it. City lights drowned out the stars and most people didn't ever realise it. My friends at school didn't believe me when I told them there were more than the handful you could see in Brockton Bay.

Recently I learnt that each star is a sun like ours. They have planets orbiting them, and those planets have moons orbiting them. Thinking back on all the stars I saw back then, and imagining each of them with planets, was mind-boggling. So much could be out there. 

Only Earth was occupied with life in our own solar system. But even if just a tenth of the stars had planets with life, that was still an insane number of species out there. 

An idea for a 'star scope' came to my brain. It could ignore the light pollution of the city and allow you to view the stars. A pleasant idea if there was ever any time. 

Inventing new things for combat took priority. Which was sad to think about. Heroes had to fight. It was a fact of life. You needed to be strong enough to fight for what you believed in. 

At least there were moments like this. Just eating ice cream by the ocean with a new friend. 

Mouse Protector and I had decided to sit on the beach in the dark. Having to lift our masks up to eat meant we could see each other or be seen. At least lifting my mouth-guard still left my eyes covered. Mouse Protector didn't have that luxury. I avoided staring too hard at her face.

"Mouse Protector," I breached the silence, "why'd you become a hero?" 

She wiped her mouth on her sleeve before talking, "Back in school, forever ago now, there was a girl who was being bullied by a group of girls. They'd say awful crap to her day in and day out. No one bothered to help her, it was subtle enough to not be noticed. But I could tell it was getting to her, as much as she put on a brave face. I wasn't strong enough to help her." 

She stopped to stare out towards the PHQ. Its domed shield glowed like a second moon. Further light pollution to drown out the stars.

"Anyway, one day I triggered, and I ended up joining the Wards right when they got started. Inaugural Ward, one of the first." 

"Wow, really?" 

"Yep." She slapped a fist against her chest. "Easily the best one too." 

Even in the dim reflected light her smirk was bright.

"So I spent some time doing the hero thing. Beating up bad guys, rescuing people, saving the day. Helping people made me realise I could help her. Fighting is more than just physical, there's a verbal aspect to it, and that's what those girls were using.

"So, that's what I did. When those girls came knocking again, I prodded back. Bullies have expectations. They see themselves as higher up on the social hierarchy than their victims, and they don't want that challenged. So, naturally, when I fought back, they escalated. Their words became meaner, they started to pull meaner pranks, and their final mistake was trying to fight her." 

"They tried to hit her?" I asked.

"Yep, and they got what they deserved. No one starts a fight with the Queen Cheese and gets away easy." 

"Wait, did they try to hit her, or did they try to hit you?" 

"One and the same, kid." 

"You… Oh, I get it. You saved yourself." I pointed my cone towards her, ice cream dribbled down my hands.

"Careful there." Mouse Protector handed me a tissue from one of her pouches. I licked my hand clean before wiping it down.

"But yeah, I got self confidence from being a hero. I learnt to fight back, and so I did. I never wanted to get physical with those girls, but it worked. They stopped bothering me after that. Well, sorta. They told everyone I was a dyke and that I would beat people up for looking at them funny. Teachers believed it too, since they never saw the bullying." 

"I'm sorry that happened." The Wards got an anti-bullying talk when they joined. Signs to notice if someone is being bullied, that they need help. The specific insults used, though, were unfamiliar. "What's a dyke?" I asked.

Mouse Protector snorted out a laugh. "It's a mean word for a lesbian. You know what that is?" I shook my head. "It means a girl who likes girls instead of boys. Y'know, in a romantic way. Sometimes they're just called gay." 

"Oh. I knew about being gay. Are you a lesbian?" 

"Nah. They were just yelling stuff at me. You meet a lot of different people as a hero. At first I didn't get it, the whole being gay thing. I'm not too big to admit that I was wrong. Ain't nothing wrong with different lifestyles, Knight. So long as they don't hurt anyone, understand?" 

"I understand. People can be cruel. I don't want to be a person who spreads more of that." 

Mouse Protector slapped a hand against my back. "Now that's a good kid. People are people at the end of the day. As heroes, we gotta be the ones who stand up against bigots and the cruel. Some people can't defend themselves. Brockton Bay is a shithole and definitely needs our help more than anywhere." 

Brockton Bay was my home. I'd never known anywhere else. It was hard to imagine somewhere that didn't look like this, work like this, have the same people as this. What did a 'fixed' city look like? 

"I don't really know how to help. Getting rid of villains doesn't fix people's homes. It doesn't fix their car that was broken in the process of defeating the villain." I stared at the sand, counting the shells. I'd done the exact same thing I hated. Hookwolf may have been captured, but I'd destroyed things to do it. Could I call myself a hero? 

"Well, it's a good thing you're a Tinker then, huh?" Mouse Protector stood up, dusting sand from her backside. She offered a hand to help me up to my feet. "You and me, Knight. We'll clear up the streets, and you'll fix whatever we break along the way. In fact, fix whatever's broken altogether." 

"I can't. Piggot already docked my pay for fixing a man's car engine. She'll yell at me again, she'll yell at you too." 

"Bah. Piggy can't dock your pay if she doesn't know it happened." 

"Lying is wrong." 

"I know, kid. But listen, it's the same as before. You know your Tinker devices work, they're safe. You know you can fix things too, right?" I nodded once. My devices were safe. Kid Win's often failed him, and Armsmaster required fine tuning over weeks to make his work. But mine were special, safe. "Exactly. You have a gift, one that can help people. And what would Piggy do if you told her?" 

"Yell at me."

"Yell at you! She doesn't get it, she won't ever get it. It's her job to hold you back, and I'm sure her reasons are good, but it's not what the people need. You're a hero, through and through, and rules are just gonna hold you back."

"I don't like lying. I do like helping people. It's the reason I became a hero. I wanted to help others. One of the most heroic things I've done was just fixing sinks in a place full of homeless people. I'm proud of doing it, but now I can't do that anymore." I squeezed the cheeks of my helmet in both hands, the foam squished up against my face from the force. "I don't know…" 

"There's no easy answer. Lying is wrong, you're right in that regard. But in this scenario, lying helps people. How about this, we go out there, and we hunt down bad guys and if we come across something broken, you fix it. Then, when you go back to the PRT, you can blame me, if you want to, for pressuring you into it. They won't blame you, they see you as a kid." 

I rolled a shell beneath my boot. Getting Mouse Protector in trouble didn't sound heroic either. The PRT would stop me patrolling with her in the future. 

But what she was offering sounded exactly like what I wanted. Repaying her by throwing her under the bus wasn't right. Instead, I'd help her, but if the guilt became too much, I'd own up to it and take my punishment. 

"Okay. Let's go help people." 

***

Finding crime didn't become easier with an older hero. Mouse Protector was experienced, but not with Brockton Bay. She knew what was around here, who operated where, but didn't have the fine tuned grasp on the criminal world she did back home. 

Her technique involved heavy use of her power, and took place over the duration of days. 

First, she'd find some gang members and tag one of them. Then, she'd let that one go and arrest the others. She'd wait around for a bit before teleporting to the one she let run. Hopefully they'd lead her back to someone higher up, and then she can go to someone even higher up than that. 

It only worked a few times before people started catching on, but by that time, she had a decent idea of what places the gangs liked to pick. She wanted to employ a similar tactic in Brockton Bay, but she'd do it when not patrolling with me. Teleporting around would leave me alone. While she trusted me to handle myself, she also didn't want to leave me alone.

"I had this issue before," I said a few hours into patrol, "finding crime in progress is hard. Police scanners are great, but you gotta learn all the codes, and without the Wards it was hard to do. I know more of them now, but they're mostly used for console duty." 

"Teleporting lets me avoid all that. Covering a lot of distance lets you find crime easier. I'd throw rocks between buildings to travel faster, throw them into shady looking buildings to check them out, or just tag random shady people and see where they go throughout the night." 

"I wish I could do that."

Localised space warping can mimic teleportation. Holy shit. I already had all the pieces in my hoard for the perfect recipe to mimic Vista's power and even create 'waypoints' that would allow me to warp long-distance across the city. 

Mouse Protector had stopped about ten feet in front of me, and was staring back. "You coming, kid?" 

"I just figured out how to make Vista's power." 

Mouse Protector's eyes went wide. She walked back over to me. "Woah, kid. You realise what that means?" I shook my head, still processing the potential of it, "It means that this patrol is kaput, useless. You make that gizmo and we can cover more ground than we could ever dream of covering tonight." 

She placed both hands on my shoulders. "Sorry we didn't get to do too much tonight, but I think it makes sense to stop here. Make that immediately. Boys in the lab will probably approve it so fast it'll make your head spin. But even if they don't, you can use it when we're out on our own. Got it?" 

"Uh, yeah, I got it." 

"Good. Now, I'll walk you back to the PRT, but I gotta go do some other stuff so I won't follow you in. I trust you'll be alright to cover what we did tonight?" There was a certain emphasis on the words that reminded me I needed to lie. 

I gulped down the lump in my throat. Lying was wrong, but getting in trouble for helping people didn't make sense. Mouse Protector was right. It was a white lie, something necessary. 

"Yes. I'll cover it." 

Mimicking Vista's power required a level of fine-tuning I hadn't needed to do yet. All of my other devices worked out of the box. Spatial warping technology liked to go wrong. 

My initial test twisted away my screwdriver into nothingness. It never came back. 

Heather taught me a neat trick when we were getting to know each other. You stretched out your hands, with your thumbs touching, and then closed one eye. You'd stare at the thumb on the same side as your closed eye and move the other thumb away from it. A short distance away, the top of your thumb would vanish from view.

Eyes had blind spots and your brain filled in the gaps all the time. 

Spatial warping was like that. It required very specific commands to function how you expected. If you moved your eyes even a little, the blind spot moved too. It did give me the idea to incorporate something similar into the spatial warping. I just needed to get it working first. 

On my fourth attempt, I managed to make the device create temporary holes in the walls. A useful feature, but not what I was aiming for. I kept the settings around for future use. 

On my seventh attempt, I successfully pinched space together. With a step, I could travel from one end of my lab to the other. Unfortunately, that device rivalled a car engine in size. 

Armsmaster's speciality was shrinking devices down. His power didn't enjoy interacting with mine, though. He struggled to understand my creations until I explained them to him, which was hard since I struggled to remember certain parts when repeating what my power told me. 

Kid Win, on the other hand, could understand my devices perfectly, and even found himself copying some of their designs using better materials. Recently he'd been ripping apart his hoverboard and making it so each piece fit back in like a puzzle. The end result was exactly the same as the start, but parts could be swapped out in the future. Kind of like Fufu's firing mechanism. 

He seemed happy, even if it didn't make much sense to me. It did mean that he was too distracted to help me with my problem. 

By my fifteenth attempt, I'd created something in a more manageable size, but it lacked versatility. With only three settings available maximum. Tweaking those three settings took effort and time, not something I could do in the field. The internal components could be shifted to change those settings, but it required tools and referring to a schematic I'd made. 

But she did her job. With a button press, I could mark a location, then if I marked another, it would attempt to squeeze that space together. You had to be quick to step over the boundary due to it consuming a lot of battery life when held. Pinching space was actually pretty cheap, holding it pinched wasn't. 

Overall, I could cover around five hundred feet with one pinch. A respectable distance. She still had a considerable bulk and didn't fit comfortably in most places. 

My final solution was to break her down into components. Each one would then slot together up my right arm. Letting me use my left hand for fighting, and right hand for teleporting. 

Her other two settings involved putting a hole in whatever she was pointed to, and another that could make a quick distance between myself and someone in front of me.

Getting used to the extra bulk on my arm took a while, but I was proud of my creation:

Aiai, the Free.

Wolf Escapes Going To Birdcage, the headline read. 

I felt numb. He escaped the transport van, and it wasn't the first time. Three escapes. Why didn't they up the security after the first time?  

Alabaster escaped as well, barely a footnote in the article. 

My room was silent. Only the ticking of the clock and the hum of my computer kept me company. Emptiness filled me. I had believed that hurting those people's days had been worth it because Hookwolf, at least, was arrested. 

None of it mattered. Ruining those people's days, hurting their livelihood. All of it for nothing. 

There was no justification anymore. No making amends in my brain. That was no longer a bittersweet accomplishment, just bitter.  

I needed to fix things. There wasn't anything I could do to change the past, but I could make up for it by helping others. 

"I want to get whatever it is I need to start fixing things," I told Heather later, during breakfast.

"This again? I'll see what I can do to help. You'd need a licence for each thing. Plumbing, electricity, mechanics." She counted off on her fingers. "It's not just one thing, and it'll take time."

"How long? I'm in a hurry." 

"Possibly years, Meadow. Even if you did them all at once, it's not as simple as signing a piece of paper. There are exams, and studying. Using your power would be fine, but it'll take time to prove you can do it." 

"I don't have that kind of time!" I slapped a hand on the table. "I have to do this right now." 

"Calm down. Deep breath. Okay?" 

"What? I'm completely calm! I need to do this. I have to fix things!" 

"Meadow. Indoor voice. There isn't anything I can do about it. These things take time." She grabbed a towel to clean up the milk that had escaped her cereal bowl. When had she spilled?

That's when I realised I had been yelling. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I just need this." 

"Why do you need it?" 

"I need to… help. I need to help people, to fix things. Everything's gone wrong and I just want to make it right."  

Heather gave me a pitying look. Always that damned pity. "You heard, then?" 

"You knew about it? How long have you known about it?" 

"Meadow, calm down. It's only been a few days. I didn't expect the news to post it so soon, or for you to read it." 

"You knew for days? How could you do this to me? I had to find out by a news article and not from you. You're supposed to tell me these things!"

"I know, Meadow, I know. I just didn't know how you'd react, and wanted to tell you in a safe environment. I've just been so busy, I'm not used to this, to being a mom." 

"You're not my mom!" Heather looked as if I smacked her. I regretted the words instantly. My words stuck in my throat and I couldn't even apologise.

She sighed. "No. I'm not. But I'm your legal guardian and it's my duty to take care of you. I was going to tell you, eventually. Now, go to your room. You're grounded." 

"But-" 

"No. You don't get to argue. Your room. Now." She pointed to it as if I didn't know the direction. "And you better have your English work done before dinner." 

"Fine!" I kicked the chair before stomping off. Making noise felt good. I slammed my door for extra measure. 

Safety. That's what this place should have provided me. A space of my own, with my own things. It was empty. The start of my hoard was hidden under my bed, away from prying eyes. There has to be more, more things, more comfort. 

I ripped open my drawers, throwing my clothes across the barren floor. I poured the waste basket across it too. A good start. Heather rarely checked on me when I was grounded. Preferring to let me stew in my own brain. 

A one-story house meant sneaking out was easy. I'd never had to before, but I always planned escape routes. Heather headed off to work a little while later, leaving me alone in the house. She'd return at noon, which gave me plenty of time to work with. 

Our neighbours worked at similar hours. None of them really knew me. I'd spoken to our next-door neighbour once but never saw her again. 

Garbage day was tomorrow, so every can was filled to the brim. Sneaking around was second nature now. People yelled if they caught you taking the things they'd thrown away, which made no sense to me. 

Now, it was all mine. 

Comfort exuded from my now filled room. Not a single gap to see the floor through. 

Reorganising the trash into appropriate piles filled me with a feeling long forgotten. Packing trash into plastic containers in my lab never scratched the same itch. An urge so primal it hurts to fight it. 

This was living. All pieces of me, each one special. Even my bed shared in the love with my 'comfy' pile of trash. There was no comfort quite like it. The bed was comfortable on its own–much better than my old bed–but now, it was worthy of royalty. 

I flopped down into my chair (now enhanced with a pillow I found), and started my studies.

Heather ungrounded me once I showed her my completed work. It was some of my best yet, and there was an obvious answer as to why. She avoided talking to me too much, not even saying a word during dinner. 

It felt lonely, but there were always the Wards to talk to.

Everyone was in high spirits since Armsmaster captured Lung. He'd used a similar tranquilliser design to what he made for Shadow Stalker, though much more potent. Despite his accomplishment, Lung didn't seem like he'd live. 

Some villains were fighting Lung before Armsmaster arrived. His regeneration stopped when he was tranquilised. Armsmaster was blamed for it. He took down the head of a gang and was being investigated for it. There were whisperings of him potentially being fired.

Finding time to talk to him was impossible. Dennis still refused to even say a single word to me. At least there was still Vista. 

Over the next few days she became a frequent patrol partner, along with anyone who could keep up. Patrolling with warping technology was definitely easier.

Mouse Protector sent me pictures of her arrests on occasion, as well as check-in texts.

My patrols were lame in comparison, even with teleportation. At least talking with Vista was fun. She knew a lot of things, and a lot of hero techniques. Talking about anything other than being a hero made her clam up, though. 

Our patrols still required us to stick to a certain path, and that path usually involved keeping us in safer areas. Shadow Stalker liked to bend the rules and wander off, which at least let us catch criminals occasionally. 

But I couldn't be seen going along willingly, it had to always be pretending to stop her. 

Mouse Protector was right–they were holding us back. Shadow Stalker knew how to find crime and was willing to take the punishment to stop it. She was yelled at by Piggot more than anyone else. There was an injustice in that. She was a hero, helping others, and doing a better job than the rest of us. 

When we were alone in the locker room after a long patrol, I decided to ask her, "Sophia. Why'd you become a hero?"

She fixed me a steely gaze. Vista told me that it was best to show confidence around her, as she respected it more. I stared back, not breaking eye contact. 

"This city is filled with filth." She practically spat the word. "I needed to clean it up." She shrugged the strap of her bag further up her shoulder before walking away. I hadn't expected an answer. Sophia wasn't usually one for conversation. 

She would do better on her own. The Wards held her back, gave her rules. Even if she broke them frequently, they still restrained her. Like they restrained me. 

Why did they do that? People don't do things for no reason. If they restrain us, what does it accomplish? It keeps us… safe. Miss Militia told me that we weren't child soldiers, that we were learning to fight in a safer environment than the Protectorate faced every day. When we were of age to join them, we'd be more ready. 

I could help now, though. Not every hero had that luxury, but I could make things that helped indirectly. 

So I made my self-replicating agent. My marshmallow healing paste would be the only public version. Piggot received my 'only' batch, with a promise that I would make no more. The remainder of the batch was already back home, hidden away. 

Lying was wrong… sometimes. 

All the money from my marshmallow healing starter would go into a fund I could access on two conditions: I either become eighteen and graduate, or I leave the Wards. 

Despite my recent realisations, I didn't plan to leave the Wards. That was a big decision I couldn't make from a one-sided argument. 

Mouse Protector's words made sense. They explained things, but they weren't the whole picture. 

There were more people I needed to hear from, more people I needed to understand. 

"Armsmaster, why'd you become a hero?" I asked after he let me in his workshop.

"The world is chaotic. I'm a hero because I want to fight that chaos," he said, not even taking his eyes away from what he was working on. 

"If the world stopped being chaotic, would you stop being a hero?" 

He exhaled a laugh. "I don't believe that's possible. There'll always be someone making chaos." 

"So no matter what, you'll try to help? To be a hero?" 

"Of course, Knight. As heroes it's our duty to protect and serve. After you join us in the Protectorate, you'll do the same." He finally turned to look at me. A soft smile sat on his face, as if he was an old person reminiscing about the good old days. 

"You took out Lung. And you're being punished for it." 

His smile dropped. "Nothing that will damage me. His condition wasn't the greatest, but… It's okay. I'll be fine. Besides, no use crying over spilt milk." 

Did that mean he didn't care if Lung died? Maybe I was reading that wrong, this was Armsmaster afterall. He was a hero, a respected one. 

He pulled himself out of his chair and gestured to his door without a word. I stared at him for a second before leaving. Armsmaster didn't follow me out. 

***

Home. Safe and sound. At least in body. My brain still pondered questions that didn't have answers. What did it mean to be a hero? Lying was wrong, but only sometimes? Were my friends actually friends? 

Dennis hadn't spoken to me in a while. Vista began texting me after we started patrolling together more. She was professional, even in this short format. It felt more like talking to an adult than talking to someone younger than me. I wanted to have fun with her, go somewhere. 

An arcade. That's where Dennis wanted to take me. I'd still never been. Maybe I could take Vista there? I sent her a text. It was past ten now, and she never replied past eight. 

Vista: Sounds fun. We can organise it tomorrow.

My phone blipped almost instantly with a reply. That wasn't what I expected. We exchanged a few texts to say okay, and goodnight. 

I stared at my ceiling. Not a single star. Maybe I could convince Heather to buy me some with all my new money. For some reason, I wasn't excited. Going out with Vista sounded fun in my brain, and I was looking forward to it, but I wasn't excited. 

A gift. That's what friends did. They gave each other gifts. I scavenged through my things, trying to find just the right pieces. 

Jewellery was often given as a gift. I crafted a necklace using bottle glass that I shaped with a lighter. It resembled a window, stretched out to form a cube. Easily my best work, mostly because I'd never made anything else like this. 

I tucked it away into a little box. Getting rid of some of my hoard was worth it for friendship. Besides, it would still be a part of me, just worn by a friend. 

A disgusting cockroach crawled across my pillow. All these new friends meant more potential enemies. Insect repellant in healthy doses was what this room needed. At the windows, by the skirting boards, and a layer across my hoard.

Not wanting to risk an awful insect crawling across me, I kicked the pillow out of the way to reveal my subsonic insect repellant. I activated her inaudible screeching and immediately felt safer. She slept beneath my pillow every night and had since I made her. 

Whispered midnight secrets no one else would ever know. Long walks tucked beneath my hair on cloudless days, rainy ones, and more. She was my closest friend. 

Chapter Text

A bank robbery. A real life actual bank robbery!

The rain came down in sheets as we stood outside the Brockton Bay Central Bank, staring at the blackened windows. We stood in a line, putting on a show of strength with our numbers to try to scare the villains inside the bank. There were also some tricky tricks that they probably wouldn't be expecting, like the fact Aegis and Clockblocker had decided to swap costumes. Kid Win hovered high above us, ready to teleport his alternator cannon in at a moment’s notice to catch them off-guard. Browbeat looked unsure, but still battle ready. His muscles had swelled up to twice their usual size and he had bone-plating hidden beneath to make himself harder to damage. As for me, I was tasked with protecting Vista so she could warp space freely.

The team inside the bank called themselves the Undersiders, the same team that gifted me Elel and Efef. Unfortunately for them, they were criminals. As nice a gift as it was, the credit mostly went to Kid Win for making their cores and for letting me keep them.

Vista stood by with her blonde hair darkened and sticking to her head from the rain. I nudged her in the side. “Think they’ll be expecting two space warpers?”

She smiled at me, somehow bright in the gloomy grey. “Don’t underestimate them, they’re slippery.”

I nodded. Vista had more experience than me in battle, but none of us really knew much about the Undersiders other than their track record of escaping. Browbeat had personally fought two of their members before joining the Wards making him the most experienced. Kid Win chased them from their casino heist but didn’t get to do much other than that. Going against an enemy you know so little about is dangerous, we had to keep on our toes.

Something stirred inside the bank. Hostages spilt out of the front doors, a cloud of darkness, darker than the night, following closely behind.

Huge, lizard-like creatures made of bone came bounding out. A rider sat atop their back wearing a cheap plastic dog mask. Hellhound. The lizard thing sprinted towards Clockblocker dressed as Aegis but swapped to the real Aegis at the last second. It bit down, hard, and shook him about like a rag doll.

A horrible churning noise filled the air. Buzzing specks swarmed from the impossible darkness. Bugs. Hundreds of thousands of bugs. They attacked Clockblocker, and a group of them turned to me and Vista. 

I blocked Vista with my body, turning my subsonic repellant to max blast. Insects droned as they moved through the air like birds in formation. They stopped a few feet away from us, flying in lazy circles.

In a heartbeat, they started moving again. Why aren't they stopping?

Insects washed over me, forcing their way into my eyes and mouth, crawling beneath my layers of armour to bite my skin.

Trapped. The world closed in on me as the insects did. There were too many. Too many horrible creatures biting and crawling, nipping and biting. He was here, somewhere, controlling them. It had to be Him. 

Blind and dazed, I activated Aiai. She should be in 'pinch' mode. Aiming blind was difficult, but not impossible. I swept my hand from the ground beneath me to somewhere hopefully down the street. 

A sound like wind rushing through my ears and then I was somewhere else. As I warped there were sickening pops, like little popcorn kernels. Bugs stopped biting and began to flee from me. Others deeper inside my armour kept chewing. Another warp. The sounds of the fight were no longer audible. I scurried into an alleyway, ripping away my armour to shake the bugs free. 

Each breath was sticky in my throat. A crawling feeling remained, even when I was sure each bug was gone. Bile from my stomach forced its way out of me. More joined it soon after. 

Insects. So many insects. How did he find me? My dad was in prison, rotting.  He  shouldn't be here. When did  He  get a power? 

I warped home, away from it all. They could dock my pay, yell at me. I didn't care. 

My skin crawled with phantom sensations, and I scrubbed it away. Deep cleansing scrubs with a kitchen sponge, the scratchy kind. Bits of bugs fell into the water. Something had crushed them against me, leaving me covered with bug guts. 

The crawling sensation remained even with the guts gone.

No matter how much I scrubbed–even when it began to bleed–it wasn't enough. 

Blood blended with the water, staining it red. 

Heather burst into the bathroom. I kept scrubbing.

"Meadow! They said… you… oh, Meadow." She walked over to me, kneeling down beside the bath. She took the sponge from my shaking hands, running a hand through my hair. "Sweetheart. It's okay." She made gentle shushing noises, grasping me tight in her arms. 

I cried. Each tear carrying some of the crawling feelings away, each squeeze from Heather helping to lessen the stings. 

After Heather calmed me down, I returned to the Wards base to see how the team did.

Each Ward sported bee stings, bruises, and in Browbeat and Aegis' case, teeth marks. They didn't manage to capture a single one, and hadn't even given that many injuries in return. Everyone's mood was low from the one-sided failure.

A girl, apparently, controlled the swarm of insects. The boys named her Skitter.

Relief washed over me when I realised it couldn't possibly be my dad. Then I realised that the bug controlling woman still existed, and would be an enemy from now on. Thankfully, the Undersiders were small time players who avoided confrontation. Running into her again seemed unlikely.  

I still planned to make counter measures. Just in case. 

Piggot had berated them all for different reasons. Returning late didn't free me from her wrath

It was because I ran. Vista maintained her position for a while before having to flee to avoid the sentient swarm of insects. Abandoning Vista led to the whole team falling apart without her consistent aid. It was my fault the Undersiders got away. 

Miss Piggot didn't seem to care that bugs were horrible little things, and giving them a sentient brain made them a million times worse. She placed me on console duty for a week as punishment. Console duty didn't seem like much of a punishment.

From the looks of things, Vista and I weren't going to the arcade anymore. Missy said it was fine, she understood, but there was a sour tone to it all. There had to be some way to make it up to her. 

Gifts, according to the internet, were the best way to show an apology. Apologising alongside giving someone a personalised gift often showed you cared. 

The necklace I made before didn't seem like a big enough apology. I needed an addition, something extra.

What did Missy like? I had no idea. We hadn't spoken much outside of patrols and short conversations when I had console duty. Her costume is green, maybe something green? 

In less than an hour of scouring the streets, I found the perfect thing: a small bird. It wasn't green, but I could make it green. 

Freshly cut grass lay heaped into piles in a local park. Plenty for me to work with, and a little extra for my hoard. 

Working with flesh took a bit of trial and error. Leaving the inner workings messy didn't matter, Missy wouldn't see inside. Experience gained from working on my self-defence finger helped ease the process.

Once it was done, I returned to the Ward's base, the gift safely secured in my pocket. 

Missy was at the console, her feet resting at a weird angle on a nearby chair. She flicked through pages of a magazine, skimming without really seeming to read. A light on the console blipped for a short moment before Missy answered the call and directed someone to a road I didn't know. 

"Hey, Missy," I said from a healthy distance to not startle her. She spun around in the chair, sitting up properly. 

"Hey, Meadow." Her voice sounded sad. Good thing I had a gift to cheer her up!

"I wanted to apologise for earlier, at the bank. Bugs freak me out, and I didn't know they had a bug controller." 

"It's fine, Meadow. Just tinker something to get rid of bugs so you don't run away next time." She smiled at me before returning her attention to the console. 

Skitter's bug control overpowered the bug's natural instinct to avoid the sound. I needed something deadlier, but not so deadly it hurt other animals or people. 

"That's a good idea. I'll do that. Um, I have a gift for you. Two gifts, actually." Better I start with the bigger gift.

Missy turned, her brows raised slightly in surprise. "A gift? You don't need to." 

"I want to." I smiled at her and fished the bird out of my pocket. I placed it on the back of my hand to let it perch. Formerly brown feathers were now a mossy green, and capable of photosynthesis. 

There were even little bird movements programmed in to make it more lifelike. It tilted its head to the side in a little jitter before setting it back straight. 

Missy stared at it, her mouth agape. I knew she'd like it. 

"This little fellow can generate energy from the sun. So you don't even need to feed it, just water. There's also enough processing power in there to listen to commands, plus you can teach it some more. Right now it knows 'perch', 'sing', and 'listen'." 

I tapped the bird on the head to get its attention and then pointed to the console. "Perch." 

The bird flew from the back of my hand to the console, landing just by Vista. She startled a little at the movement, moving her chair back to avoid it. I wasn't sure why. She wasn't even close to being in its flight path. 

I made a couple of clicking noises with my tongue to get the bird's attention before commanding it to sing. An improvised songbird melody filled the room. I smiled brighter. 

Making it have the processing power to improvise notes in a pleasing way took some doing. Fortunately, an electrical synthesiser from my hoard did most of the heavy lifting. 

A pre-programmed aspect of the synthesiser lets it play several pre-programmed songs. I wired it up to the bird's brain to teach it how music was formed. Now, it could produce unique music each time it sang. 

Its little brain could do so much. 

"And 'listen' will let you show it a simple task for it to do, nothing too complicated. You show it how it's done, and then finish it by saying the command. It'll probably take a few attempts to get it to work, but it can do it." 

I turned to Missy, who had frozen like a statue. Clockblocker wasn't around, so I scratched that possibility. "What do you think?" I asked to try to break her out of whatever this was. 

"Um," she started, before stopping. Missy stood up from her chair before taking a hesitant step towards me. "Meadow. I don't have–I can't keep a bird. I don't own a cage, and… was this thing alive before you did this?" 

"What? No. I found it dead." 

"You revived it?" Her voice hit an even higher pitch than usual. 

"Not really. It isn't alive. Just a robot." I picked up the bird and popped its head off with my other hand. Missy squeaked so quietly I almost missed it. This is the best day ever. I got to hear Vista squeak! 

I angled the body towards her so she could see it. Inside there were mechanical parts, alongside the muscle structure and some bones in decent condition. 

"I had to replace most of the brain–too much eaten by pesky bugs. I had a spare rat brain so I just used that, so it wasn't any trouble to get it if you're worried about that. But mostly it's mechanical pieces I already had. Except for the eyes, those I had to replace entirely with custom sensors. They weren't hard to design, I just based it on Elel." 

With each word, Missy stepped further and further away from me. My best guess was that she didn't like fleshy stuff. I popped the head back on, making sure the spine locked back into place. 

"I." Missy looked weird. Her face reminded me of the 'scared' face on my emotion chart. That didn't make sense, though. Why would she be scared? She shook her head, and her expression changed back to neutral. 

"I'm sorry, Meadow. Look, I appreciate the intention of the gift, but I can't accept it. Logically, I couldn't take care of this bird. Maybe give it to-" Her eyes scanned the ceiling. "I don't know who." She finally said, looking back at me. An awkward looking smile was added as an afterthought. 

"Anyway, I need to." She pointed to the console with her thumbs. "You know?" 

"Console duty, right? I'll let you–I'll leave you alone." I shoved the bird back into my pocket, and placed the necklace on the console. I left before she could protest.

How could I be so stupid? Of course Missy didn't like birds. They stopped her power. 

The bird hopped from one side of the pencil to the other. It chirped and tweeted with each hop. Teaching it a new command didn't get rid of the hurt. Missy didn't answer any of my texts throughout the evening. By the end of my patrol, she had gone home, leaving me no way to apologise for such a stupid gift. 

A knock at my door shook me out of my sad thoughts. 

"Meadow," Heather said, opening the door, "I wanted to talk about the–" She stopped talking as the door swung open. Heather's eyes scanned over my room, locking with mine at the end of her scan. "You were doing so well." Pity stared at me. 

"It was just a bad gift. I'll think of a better one. You don't need to act like I've ruined my friendship over it." I shrugged, returning my attention to the bird. 

"What're you–" She stared at the bird. "You made a bird?" 

"Just a robot, not a real bird. No self-replication." I prodded it hard in the side, causing it to fall over. It rolled slightly before righting itself back to its feet. 

My hoard shuffled as Heather trudged her way over to me. "Okay. That's not the issue right now. We can deal with the bird later." She squatted down to be at eye level. I kept my focus on the bird. "You started hoarding again?" 

"Huh?" Her eyes still held too much pity to look at for long. "We had an argument, I redecorated. I even left a gap at the door so you could get in." 

Rulers taped to sticks kept the hoard from spilling out into the door's path. I wasn't sure why she was bringing this up. 

"Remember what you spoke about, with Dr. Kim?" 

"We spoke about a lot of stuff." 

"I mean with the hoarding. This isn't healthy, Meadow. You're allowed to have things, you're allowed to redecorate, but this isn't that. You're safe here. Food, shelter, security. There isn't a need to hoard all of this. Your lab has all of your usable things, and you won't go hungry here." Heather stroked a hand through my hair. 

"I'm sorry that we argued, and I know I'm not your mom, but I'm here to take care of you. This?" She gestured to all of my friends in the room. "It isn't healthy. I don't want to be the bad guy here, but you need to clear this out." 

"No. I can't, I need this." I dared to look at her pitying face. Her frown deepened. 

"Dr. Kim told me to not check your room, to let you have it as a safe place even from me, but that clearly isn't working. We're clearing this out tomorrow. For tonight, you can sleep in my room. I'll get you scheduled in when she's next free." 

My mind struggled to keep up. "Wait, please. I can't. These are my friends." 

"Friends? Meadow, this is just stuff. You have friends, this isn't it." 

"I don't have friends! Clock hates me, Vista hates me. Kid Win only wants to talk about tinker stuff and I don't know anything else about him. Mouse Protector promised we'd patrol again, but I haven't seen her in almost two weeks! There isn't–" A sob forcing its way out interrupted me. 

Heather hugged me tight. "It's okay. We'll get you help. You'll be better. It just takes time." 

Better? She made it sound like I was ill. 

Heather guided me out of the room after I finished crying. She laid me down in her bed with the addition of my weighted blanket. "We'll sort this all out in the morning. Sleep well." 

I pretended to fall asleep. Over the course of an hour, I heard her talking on the phone, and she did something to my door at one point. A jingling, metal against metal, and a light shake of the door in its frame. 

There wasn't any way I could let her take my hoard away from me. 

Protesting wouldn't have achieved anything except for another argument. She couldn't understand what my friends meant to me. No matter how much I tried to explain, she wouldn't understand. Just how none of the PRT understood. Even the heroes didn't understand.

I tried to explain it to my caseworker as I joined the Wards. How they were important to me and that I needed someone to get them back from my hideout. She agreed to get it under the condition it be stored away in those dumb plastic boxes that contained their greatness. 

Once Heather went to bed, I snuck out of her bedroom window, and made my way through the backyard to my own bedroom window. As part of my escape route planning, I had its lock replaced with a Tinkertech one that looked almost identical. My fingerprint acted as an alternate unlock method. Keys could be cumbersome, especially when trying to get away fast. 

A touch of my finger later and I was in.

Scooping up all of my hoard without making noise would have been impossible if not for the sound, absorbing foam on my walls. Leaving them behind felt sad. 

Brave soldiers, hold the line, protect our retreat. 

Bags after bags full of my friends left my window. By the end, I had fifteen bags full of stuff. I hadn't thought of how to move them away from the house. Heather's car made the most sense. She kept her keys in her purse, which she left inside her room–the very room I was pretending to sleep in. 

Closing the car door would generate a noise no matter how carefully I shut it. I made sure to shovel every bag inside and start the engine before closing it. 

Now to figure out how to drive. Cars are machines. I understand machines. 

Heather said her car was 'automatic' before, whatever that meant. It didn't do anything automatically when I turned the engine on. I stared at the controls all over the car. All of it was nonsense. I took a deep breath. 

Okay, power. Let's work together. This situation is broken, we need to fix it. We can fix it by driving this car and taking my friends somewhere new. You're my friend too, power. Let's get out of this together. 

Sparks popped at the back of my mind. A feeling burned, but my connection to it remained in the shade. I concentrated, trying to pull the feeling forward. 

Understanding. That was the feeling. It wasn't an understanding of how to drive, but I knew exactly what each button, lever, and dial did. 

Driving without knowing how wasn't as hard as I imagined. The engine and I understood each other. Each tiny piece served a purpose, and I knew all of them. Controlling the car felt like controlling a limb.

My old hideout was too obvious a spot–they'd find me there straight away. But finding a new place would take time–time I didn't have. 

I skidded the car to a halt outside the first abandoned building I saw. A fast-food restaurant. The style wasn't familiar and the signs had been stolen for their metal. 

Stepping inside, I realised that this wasn't a safe house. Wind whistled through the glassless windows. Entire walls had been smashed away, leaving large open gaps, making me visible from too many angles. Safety included being obscured, hidden. 

Car lights lit up the entire building. Two people exited the newly arrived interloper, their footsteps crunching the gravel.

"Meadow!" Heather yelled. "Are you still here?" 

I ducked down, hugging close to the remnants of the kitchen appliances. How did she find me so easily?

There wasn't any way to get to my hoard and get free. Either I run, abandoning all that makes me whole, or I surrender and abandon all that makes me whole. She wouldn't listen, wouldn't let me keep them. 

Muffled voices uttered a conversation I couldn't hear. Two women. Heather and someone else? Two car doors slammed shut, and one car roared to life before leaving. Footsteps entered the building. One of them hadn't left. 

I swapped Elel to night vision and dared to take a peek. A green blur that sort of looked like Heather walked through the building, looking behind anything big enough to hide a person. At this rate, she'd find me in less than a minute. 

Not enough time to think things through. I bolted, leaping out one of the back windows before sprinting my way towards the car. I tried the handle. Locked. 

All of my things stared at me through the tinted windows.

"Meadow," Heather said, standing in the doorway to the restaurant. "Please come back. Talk to me." 

I gripped the handle tighter, my knuckles turning white. "You want to take them away from me." 

"You need help, Meadow. This isn't normal. I know that's hard to see for you, but I want to help you. We can make things better." 

"Better?" Tears streamed down my face. "There is no better. No one likes me. I fuck everything up. Everything I do is wrong. But these are my friends. They're here for me. Each one loves me, understands me. More than the Wards, more than Mouse Protector, more than you." 

"I'm sorry I haven't been taking care of you. You're supposed to be able to turn to me. I just don't know what I'm doing. It's hard, Meadow, especially when you don't tell me things. I didn't even know you had a fight with the Wards. We can work through this. Get you help, get you on the right track." 

I shook my head, a little at first but more over time. "No." 

"No?" 

"No, I can't be better."

"Meadow, don't–" 

"It's true! I'm… broken. Broken in a way that can't be fixed."

"You're not broken."

"I am! People don't make sense to me. Everyone keeps acting like I'm stupid, but I don't even know why! Just pitying looks. All the. Damn. Time." I rested my face against the cold metal of the car. My tears splashed against it, making little noises like raindrops. "My brain is wrong." 

"Being different doesn't mean you're broken. This world can be hard, it can be cruel, but you can't get through it alone," Heather said, her footsteps inching closer to me. "People don't always know the best way to approach things and don't understand what's going on in your head. They probably don't hate you. Misunderstandings aren't the end of a friendship." 

Heather placed a hand on my back. "Your brain isn't wrong, just different."

"But it needs to change, or you'll kick me out." 

"I wouldn't kick you out."

"You would." 

"No, Meadow, I wouldn't. I'm here to take care of you. It might not be forever, but for now, that's my job."

I looked up at her. Her face was shaded in the dim light, but I saw her eyes were a puffy red. 

"Certain things you do aren't healthy. Hoarding is one of them. We can work together to iron out the unhealthy parts and get you to a better place mentally. But most of the parts you think are broken aren't." She wiped the tears from my cheek with her finger. Heather smiled at me. A sad smile.

"I've been doing some research. Non-PRT research. They were telling me a bunch of stuff that I just took at face value. Before you ran off I was reading about how to help you, with your–with all of it. I want to be more present in your life, to explain things better." She paused for a moment, her fingers rubbing idly against my back. 

"I'm not a parent. I never even wanted kids. But Meadow, I want to be there for you, to get through this together. Will you come back, please?" 

"Are you going to throw away my friends?" 

"Yes. I'm sorry, Meadow. Hoarding is one of the unhealthy parts we need to work through." 

"Then–" I didn't know what to do. Heather wanted to help, but I couldn't just abandon my friends. "Can we–Can we move them? Not throw them away, just move them to my lab. And I need something to replace them. My room is so empty without them. I can't stand the space." 

"Okay. We can start with that. First, we need to go home and sleep. It's three AM." 

I hugged Heather. She seemed surprised by the sudden contact. "You've never hugged me before," she whispered in my ear. 

"We've hugged before." 

"I've hugged you before. You've never hugged me. It's nice. Thank you, Meadow. Now, let's go home." 

We drove back to the house. Street lights washed through the car in temporary orange spotlights. I rested my head against the window, feeling the vibrations through my body. Brockton Bay twinkled like starlight. 

Each star, like the ones in the sky, had its own world attached. People lived near each light, awake at three AM for reasons I'd never know. Maybe they had an argument with their parents, too.

***

"Thanks again, Dominique. I owe you my life," I said. She had driven around the corner to let me confront Meadow alone, since I was scared Meadow would run if a stranger was with me.

"It's okay, Heather. Is she gonna be okay?" She gestured to Meadow in the car.

"Maybe. I don't know. None of this is easy." 

Dominique hugged me. "Call me, if you ever need anything. I can babysit if you need a day off." 

"Thank you." She was a lifesaver. Not everyone had friends they could call at three AM.

We parted ways, Meadow looked at me with sleepy eyes as I got in the car. We didn't talk on the ride home. I didn't know what to say.

Meadow's eyes were closed as I pulled up to my house. She snored, almost imperceptibly quiet. 

For a while I sat there, just staring at her. Brown hair cascaded down her back, tousled by the wind as it usually was. No matter how much we brushed it, one minute outside turned it back into a wild mess. 

She looked so small squished up against the side of the car. 

The first few nights had been hard for her. I often found her sleeping inside her closet, clothes piled up against her like a safety blanket. She complained about nightmares, ones where she lived alone in infinite empty space. They hadn't made sense until now. Meadow needed clutter. We could do that. Healthy clutter. 

It wasn't until Christy told me about weighted blankets that I got her to sleep in her own bed all night. It brought her comfort the room didn't offer. That weighted blanket was the best purchase I've ever made. 

I roused her awake. She grumbled small protests but got up. We walked to her room, her head resting against my arm the entire way. Once she was in her pyjamas, I tucked her into bed, remembering to grab the weighted blanket from my room. 

"Good night, Meadow," I said, turning the lights off. 

"Good night, Mom," Meadow mumbled. 

I held back the small noise that tried to escape from me. Once I reached my own room, a mix of exhaustion, sadness, and pure joy made its way out of my eyes again in heavy, sobbing tears.

Chapter Text

Arcadia High was closed due to the bombs currently ripping the city apart. What should have been my first day at school became instead my first real crisis situation. 

Us Wards weren’t allowed to go to locations where bombs were spotted, instead focusing our efforts on rescuing people from the aftermath. We were required to take frequent breaks between attempting to rescue people from bombs that turned them to glass. 

All that idle time added to my nerves. 

Everyone, including the Protectorate heroes, had been armed with my patented marshmallow healing paste. My own supply was running dry only an hour in. It didn’t help against people who had been stretched out like taffy, but I could at least stop severed limbs from bleeding. 

Unlike the rest of the Wards, Clockblocker, and Vista’s powers were deemed important enough in defusing the bombs that they were given permission to respond directly to reported devices. I can’t say I envied them. Responding to the aftermath alone made me want to never be near one of these things again.

Currently, I was on search and rescue with Triumph and Shadow Stalker. We responded to bombs going off, rescuing people and then immediately having to move on to the next bomb threat before we even had a chance to breathe.

We had been given some specialised equipment, like a filter I had installed into my helmet, and a pouch of radiation pills. 

Triumph didn’t have many movement options. We’d started the night riding around in a PRT van, but our escorts had been required for another job which left me space warping us  around the city. Stalker didn’t complain as much as I thought she would at not being able to leap roof to roof. 

“Fire reported on Harrison Street, no anomalous properties, and no bombs reported. Team C, can you respond? Over.” A male voice came over our comms. PRT officers were handling the console since too many of us were needed out here. 

“Team C responding to the fire. Over,” Triumph said. “Got us a direction, Knight?” 

Elel displayed a line on the map she was currently showing as the address came in. “Got it.” We used Aiai to warp there in less than twenty seconds.

Before we even reached the building, we could see smoke filling the air, billowing out of the building in large plumes. 

Fire danced out of the windows, greedily drinking up the oxygen and causing the air itself to feel suffocating. People stood around, staring at the building. Some were covered in ash and burns, clearly having escaped from the fire. 

Triumph looked at all the people around us. “We’re going to need reinforcements. Shadow Stalker, call for medical and fire services, I’ll call for PRT backup.” 

She nodded, and walked slightly away to call the non-PRT authorities. 

“This is Triumph, requesting PRT agents on my position to assist with escort. Fire may spread to other buildings. Over.” 

All emergency services were clogged up from the many bombs around the city, we didn’t expect an immediate response. 

“Knight, inside with me. Shadow Stalker, check the buildings next to it and get people out if they’re still in,” Triumph ordered us.  

Shadow Stalker nodded before leaping into the next door building using her mist form. Intense heat created air currents that would throw her about while in shadow state. Fire wasn’t dangerous to her, but being shoved around was. 

Triumph and I approached the front door, we could see flames consuming the majority of the hallway beyond. Triumph yelled a superpowered shout, the air throughout the corridor rippled from the effort and the flames were pushed to the side. Most of them flickered away, but the ones that remained picked up the slack and began to seep back into the charred corridor. 

He yelled again. This time they stayed out, leaving smoking remains but no fires. We entered deeper, taking care to not crash through the burnt floorboards. 

“Don’t make any holes unless instructed. We don’t know how structurally sound this place is. At least it can stand up to my shouts, but we can’t be too careful. See anyone?” 

I shook my head. “Too much fire for heat vision, too much noise to hear anything.” The radio on my back now acted more as a listening device, letting me hear everything around me clearly. It even let me listen to sounds beyond my range of hearing. All I could hear right now was crackling fires and creaking architecture. 

“Okay. We’ll check upstairs first, people are more likely to get trapped higher up.” 

He repeated his fire-quenching shouts as we progressed through the building. 

“Anyone here?” Triumph yelled, using his power to carry it throughout the upper floor. 

I turned my headphones higher, wincing at how loud everything became. A quiet voice called back, barely audible over it all. 

“Someone’s here, I think. Above us. In the attic?” 

Triumph nodded, looking to the ceiling to find a way up. Everything around us was charred black with little to discern between what things were before. I flicked Dede over to her airblaster head and began to shoot at the ceiling. Each burst of air cleared away a small portion of the ash.

My fifth burst revealed a jutted out portion of wood. Squinting I could see it formed into a square. Some kind of trapdoor? 

“There.” I pointed it out to Triumph who had turned to clear away incoming fires. 

“Good, okay.” He reached up to grasp around but couldn’t find the handle. More fires spread out of the rooms. “Shit. Open a hole, I’ll deal with these.” 

He tossed a grenade from his bandolier into a nearby room. After a moment it exploded, instantly quenching all the flames inside. He moved to throw another into the next room. 

I returned my attention to the task at hand. “Stand back!” I yelled before aiming my right arm at the attic hatch. The hole forced its way into existence, shoving the wood to the side and leaving a perfectly circular hole that hurt to look at. A ladder fell down, almost hitting me in the head. 

Holding the hole like this drained Aiai’s battery fast, I needed to be quick. 

There weren’t any flames in the attic. Inside I found a young girl, maybe only seven-years-old, huddled behind cardboard boxes. 

I pulled the ladder up before shutting the spatial hole behind me. Opening it from this side proved a lot easier. Triumph looked up the ladder to me. 

“There’s a girl up here, young,” I told him. Triumph attempted to climb up the ladder but found his armour too bulky to fit. 

“Damnit. Take care of her, can you get her down?” I nodded. He hesitated before leaving to fight the last of the fires. 

The girl stood up. She was covered in ash and soot, making it hard to distinguish anything about her. Each breath sounded like it hurt. 

I unhooked an oxygen mask from my side. We all had canisters of oxygen which were Tinkertech of Armsmaster’s design. Even if they wanted to, extreme heat wouldn’t make them explode. 

“Hey, there. My name’s Raccoon Knight, I’m a hero. What’s your name?” 

She breathed in a painful sounding breath. “Wendy.” Her voice was small, barely there. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Wendy. I need to get you out here, okay? And I need you to put this mask on, it’ll help you breathe.” 

She looked scared, and didn’t walk towards me. This wasn’t a safe place to stay, we needed to get her to an ambulance. Something about the way she looked at me made me feel like it was my helmet that was scaring her. 

I took it off. Without the filter the smokey air quickly choked my lungs. “See, just a normal person, like you. I’ll take you outside, okay?” 

I wanted to tell her we’d find her parents but PRT guidelines gave some good reasons why that wasn't a great idea. For one, she might not have them, and worse, they might be dead from this fire. 

Wendy wobbled forward on shaky steps before taking my outstretched hand. I scooped her up into a side-carry. She wasn’t heavy, but I wasn’t strong. Definitely need to install my exo-skeleton.

“This’ll help you breathe, okay?” I said, showing her the oxygen mask. She nodded, so I helped her put it on.

Aiai pinched the distance from the attic to the second floor, letting us cross it without climbing down the ladder. 

My heat vision showed Triumph battling fires using his shouts downstairs. Everything had been charred black, with nothing to show what things once were. I used Aiai to avoid walking down the stairs.

“Triumph, I got her!” I yelled over to him. He turned, nodding once, and backed up away from the fires to join me in leaving. 

I placed my helmet back on before heading outside. Flashing lights illuminated the smoke filled sky. Ambulances had arrived, already tending to the people who had escaped prior to us arriving. 

We handed Wendy over to a young looking paramedic at an ambulance that had just arrived. He sat her down on the back-edge and checked her over with a listening device.

“How long was she in there?” He asked us.

“About ten minutes by my estimation, possibly less,” Triumph said.

“Okay, thank you.” He nodded to Triumph. 

“I’m better suited for dealing with the fire, and I need to check on Shadow Stalker. Did you spot anyone else inside?” Triumph asked me. I shook my head. “Okay. Stay here, help with the burns if you can.” He ran off, back into the smouldering building. 

As I turned to find others who might need my help, Wendy made a small noise that sounded kind of like “Wait.” 

There was fear in her eyes. “Don’t go,” she said. 

I stayed by her side, holding her hand to keep her company as the paramedic checked her over. He gave her another oxygen mask to breathe through. 

“I’ll need to take her to the hospital. Do you know where her parents are?” 

I shook my head. We both looked at Wendy. After a nervous pause she just pointed at the building, tears welling back up in her eyes and running down her face, partially washing away the ash that covered her cheeks. I patted her hand, and told her I’d be back. 

Ignoring her protests hurt my heart. 

I approached anyone who looked like they had been in the fire. Talking to them let me piece together what happened. 

They had been partying, about fifteen of them total, and then some guy walked in they didn’t know. Before they could tell him to leave, he erupted into flames from the inside out and started the fire. No one was hurt, but they were all too drunk to be organised. 

Wendy’s parents were already taken to the hospital. Both had tried to find their daughter and the smoke got the best of them. 

At least they were still alive. 

“Hey, Wendy. Your parents are already at the hospital. You’ll be able to see them soon, okay?” 

She gave me a sad look. “Are they okay?” 

“They breathed in some smoke trying to find you, but they’re alive. I need to go help more people. Will you be okay going with this nice man?” I gestured to the paramedic. 

She looked at him, then back to me before giving a hesitant nod. “I’ll be okay.” 

I fished out a reel of stickers from my utility pouch. She received one fresh raccoon sticker with the words ‘super brave!’ in bubble font. “You’re so brave, you deserve this.” 

She looked from the sticker to my logo before smiling. Wendy requested the sticker be placed between her collar bones, like my logo was. 

One sticker of bravery later and she was off to be healed. 

Shadow Stalker appeared by my side. “I’m never good at dealing with the brats. Come on, Triumph is waiting for us.” She turned, leaving me no time to respond. 

Her words hurt my heart even more. Wendy wasn’t a ‘brat’. Plus, most children Stalker interacted with were probably traumatised from what they just went through. How could she call them brats when they were the exact type of people who needed our help? 

Shadow Stalker could sniff out crime and deal with it faster than most of the Wards put together, but that wasn’t all there was to being a hero. 

Browbeat told me that doctors called it ‘bedside manner’, a term for building a relationship of sorts with your patients. Heroes did something similar, it was important for people to be able to come to you with their issues. 

Being a mysterious, badass cape made criminals fear you, but it also made the public fear you. It was important to build up both sides. Criminals should be stopped by your presence, but civilians still need to be able to approach you. 

Triumph directed us to another call. Then another, and another. Even with the breaks, my body and mind were beyond exhausted at the end of my shift. 

The hum of adrenaline didn’t fade as I lay on the couch watching movies with Heather. 

It didn’t fade by the time I went to bed. 

Laying there, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, I kept thinking about how scary it all was. Despite my brave face to the people we helped, I was terrified that we were seconds away from being frozen in time forever, or being turned into a glass sculpture, or just losing all of our limbs. 

We didn’t know why Bakuda had started her bombing spree. There were scarce reports of some kind of fight at the storage lockers, but little information outside of it. Even now I could occasionally hear distant explosions. A constant ringing remained in my ears from being close to a few of the mundane bombs. 

Every explosion felt designed for maximum impact at the most random of places. Blowing up the train tracks and bridge made sense. They were tactical locations that limited movement in and out of the city. Even hitting the power grid made sense, blacking out entire districts made it easier to plant bombs. I wasn’t sure why she wanted that, but it made sense.  

Blowing up a school, residential areas, and shops didn’t make sense. The only reason to do that was fear. Fear that had become widespread overnight. Tomorrow, there’d be no one who didn’t want the bombing to stop, pressure would be on for the heroes  to get rid of the mad bomber and fast. Why would she want that? 

Each bomb just added to the force of the response she was likely to receive. Did she have some kind of plan to stop us? Or was it all just because Lung had been captured? 

Bakuda was part of the ABB, it made sense she’d want her leader back, but he wasn’t even the strongest cape they had, she was. Lung was a B-list villain who mostly did nothing but defend the territory he already held. 

With tactical strikes, Bakuda could take out pretty much every rival gang and the heroes before anyone knew she was in town. Instead she decided to make a big splash for seemingly no reason other than revenge that her boss got caught. 

Figuring out how people worked remained an unsolvable riddle to me. 

What would I do with her power? 

From what I’d seen, she could make bombs that would take out endbringers. Thinking about them made me sick. Thinking about the fact such a strong power went to someone who refused to use it for good made me sicker. 

She could probably make explosions that were non-lethal. Improving on the containment foam grenades the heroes carried made the most obvious sense, but she could probably come up with a hundred different devices. 

Temporary paralysis, like a gorgon, came to mind.

Unlike a gorgon, it wouldn’t turn them to stone, and wouldn’t be permanent, and would be in an area not based on sight. Not really like a gorgon at all now that I think about it.

There was a lot she could be doing instead of killing people for seemingly no reason. 

The paralysis idea made me think of a muscle-freezing liquid. Something like Shadow Stalker’s darts made the most sense as a delivery system. Unlike a tranquiliser, it would work fine on a person of any size with no changes needed–the only difference would be how long it lasts. 

Fufu could shoot them if made from the alloy my armour was made from. 

I marked down the idea. 

Sleep still failed to come to me. Heather’s snores carried through the house, showing I was the only one struggling. 

A glass of warm milk, and an extra hour of drifting thoughts about Bakuda later, I finally managed to fall asleep. 

***

Nightmares interrupted me several times throughout the early morning. By the time I decided enough was enough, it was nearly noon. I wasn’t sure how much time I’d managed to actually sleep, but it wasn’t a lot. 

A similar day spent dealing with the aftermath of bombs left me equally as exhausted. Another after that didn’t help. Neither did the next.

Bakuda’s bombing run didn’t end despite reports of Lung escaping the PHQ custody with the help of Oni Lee. Armsmaster worked overtime on little sleep, vowing to bring Lung back into custody if it’s the last thing he did. Which it might be with the way he was going. 

Armsmaster brushed off any attempts I made to talk to him, which weren’t that many in the first place. He was rarely at the PRT building, preferring to return to the PHQ than back here. 

Browbeat ended up speaking to me a lot. No one else was willing to give me the time for my questions. Vista might have if she weren’t in battle focus mode twenty-four-seven. 

Browbeat didn’t have any more answers than I did. He had more knowledge to fill in some of the blanks, though. 

Talking with him didn’t feel like a back-and-forth conversation, it felt like it was a game to him and he was trying to beat me at it. At the same time, he also didn’t seem to care what answers I came up with, he mostly just liked asking hard to answer questions. 

Figuring out Bakuda’s motivations became fifty other questions. 

Questions about the Slaughterhouse Nine came up. A band of serial killers who roamed the United States looking to spread chaos and destruction for no reason other than chaos and destruction. 

Dillan bought them up because one of their members was the reason my name wasn’t on the healing paste starter patent. Mannequin. 

He was a Tinker who turned himself into a living mannequin, and made it his quest to kill anyone trying to use their powers to improve things.

It felt petty to be annoyed at it, especially at a time like this, but I was annoyed that they kept my name hidden as its creator. 

Hiding from him made me feel weak. Logically, I knew it made sense to hide. Emotionally, I wanted people to know it was me who made the paste. Dillan had called it my ‘ego’ getting in the way of logic, a concept of self-importance that he looked down on. 

Every conversation with Browbeat left me dizzy and regretful for talking to him at all. 

***

Mouse Protector joined me on a search and rescue a few days in. It was nice seeing her again. 

Aiai helped me keep pace with her. Mouse Protector used a disc launcher attached to her hand to fire a tagged disc, then she’d grab it, load it back up, and fire again. I could see how to improve its firing mechanism just from watching it be used. 

We had stopped on the top of a squat skyscraper’s roof, waiting around for the next crisis. She offered me a mango-flavoured juice box. 

“Thanks.” I took it. It was warm. I should install a liquid storage system that’s self-cooling somewhere. 

“Where have you been, anyway?” I ventured to ask a little into our break. 

“Ah, sorry, kid. An old friend showed up, and I got busy keeping her busy. Before I knew it the week had gone by and I hadn’t even patrolled with you.” She hopped up onto the raised edge of the building. Mouse Protector’s powers gave her better balance, so I wasn’t scared she’d fall. 

“I thought we were gonna patrol together after I made Aiai.” 

“Aiai?” 

I patted the device on my arm. “Spatial warping thingy. Her name is Aiai.” 

Mouse Protector tilted her head to one side. “Alright. Well, I’m sorry. I really did want to patrol with you again. But this woman–her name’s Ravager, and she hates my guts–wouldn’t leave me alone. She followed me all the way here, can you believe it?” 

“She followed you? Why?” 

“Since I’ve humiliated her so much, she considers me her arch-nemesis or something. Truthfully I’ve never bothered to listen to her yelling. You just tune it out after a while.” 

“Why isn’t she in jail, if you’ve fought her that much?” 

“Good question, kid. Very poignant.” I’d look that word up later. “She’s a slippery one, and fighting her isn’t easy, she’s an excellent fighter. Tagging her in the first place takes a lot of effort. Then her power stops me just constantly teleporting to her.” Mouse Protector slashed at the air with her sword. 

“Wounds she inflicts stick around for a long time. Even a little scratch from her nails can become lethal. My teleport puts me close, and she’s great at hitting between my armour. You can see the issue.” 

Mouse Protector sat down on the raised roof edge with her legs dangling towards the street. I walked closer, sitting down on the gravel instead of the raised edge. 

“You could probably use this against her,” I handed her my frisbola, “your aim is better than mine anyway.” 

“What is it?” She lifted it up to inspect the bottom. 

“A bola. You throw it and it splits into three, then it’ll wrap around anything it hits.”

“Woah, kid, that’s wicked. I’ll need to follow through, but this should work nicely.” 

Mouse Protector patted the top of my helmet. “Got anything to put her down after she’s wrapped up?” 

“I had an idea for an electric-shock knuckle duster.” 

“Seven hundred.” 

“Huh?” 

“I’ll pay you seven hundred to make that for me, plus an extra two hundred whenever I need repairs.” 

“That’s nice of you, but I’ve never really repaired my own stuff before. Once one of them is gone, they’re gone forever. My power doesn’t like remaking things. I tried to make Coco again but it wouldn’t let me.” 

Weirdly, despite Cici breaking apart after I used her against Hookwolf, I had ideas to make something new out of her parts, but no ideas for remaking Coco. The new Cici would have functioned slightly differently, rather than as a delivery system, I thought about making her into a breaching device that stuck to whatever she hit first. 

“Alright. Five grand if you put in a Tinkertech battery. I know that you can’t make that stuff on your own and gotta use other people’s stuff, so I’m willing to pay more if you think it’s fair. And since it’s one time only, I’ll give you back the pieces after. Then, I pay another five grand for you to make it into something else.” 

“Mouse, that’s a lot of money.” At least it seemed like it–I wasn’t sure what a ‘grand’ was. 

Based on what she was saying, it was definitely more than seven hundred. Imagining seven hundred dollars in the first place seemed impossible. I hadn’t bothered to look at my bank account, yet, but I knew there was money in there. No one had bothered to teach me how money works, either.

“Don’t worry, I got the cheddar to spare. I’ll even go through official channels to make it easier for you.” 

“I don’t–okay. I’ll make it for you.” She’d use it to fight crime, which would help people. It was hard to say no to someone just wanting to help others, even if I had no idea if that pay was fair.

She gave me a thumbs up before vanishing from her sitting position. “Great! Now let’s go find some more people to save,” she said from behind me. 

***

We resumed our patrol. Calls of fighting or explosions came in several times an hour. Even with our extended travel options we struggled to keep up.

A gun fight between two groups made the street we were overlooking look like a war zone. 

Based on their attire, and skin colours, one side was the Azn Bad Boys, and the other were the Empire Eighty-Eight. Just normal people, no parahumans in sight. Bullets flew by from both sides. Cars received most of the impacts, but a couple hit buildings. People were likely to get hurt–if they hadn’t already–if this kept going.

We needed to take out the ABB first. The bombs most likely implanted in them or their loved ones made them fight for survival, which made them wild and unpredictable. We could get the Empire Eighty-Eight members to hopefully stand down if we took the ABB down first. 

Neither side would be leaving here out of handcuffs. 

Mouse Protector hatched a plan with me. She disagreed about the Empire just surrendering, they wouldn’t want to be arrested anymore than the asian gang members would want to be blown up. Instead, she’d focus on the ABB, and I’d go after the smaller group of Empire members. 

I pinched her to a space closer to the ABB members. They were taking cover behind cars across the road. Mouse Protector stepped through, going from the rooftop we were on to the rooftop above them. Then I moved the pinched space to put me closer to the Empire members. 

Guns were so loud up close. I was glad for my ears being protected by foam. 

I could see Mouse Protector crouching at the edge of the roof from my position. The Empire seemed too distracted with their ongoing firefight to notice.

Mouse Protector counted off to three on her fingers. 

We dived in, me swinging Dede in hammer form into Empire hands to disarm them of their guns, and Mouse Protector teleporting into the middle of the asian men with her shield raised. She tagged a gun, using it to teleport just to the side every time they fired. 

The man I slammed Dede into cursed as the gun went flying out of his hand. 

Before his friend could turn and shoot, I threw a marshmallow grenade towards him. As he swung around the marshmallow stuck to the mouth of his gun and swelled up enough to catch his hand in the sticky balloon. His attempts to free his hand just got his other hand caught in the mess as well.

The first man, Teardrop (named for the teardrop under his eye), swung a clunky punch towards me, my training made it easy to dodge. 

I wagged a finger disapprovingly and tutted with each sway. 

Dede clicked to the next head. I fired the punch of air right into his stomach as he attempted to rush me. He keeled over, grasping at his belly, and his momentum caused him to skid across the ground in an undignified heap. 

I marshallowed his arm to the floor before moving on to the other members. Two were left, both of them taking pot shots towards Mouse Protector who was dancing around the ABB with ease. Technically the plan was for me to retreat after taking out two of them, but I needed to stop them shooting at her. 

Marshmallow gun attempted to run, despite both of his hands being captured in the sticky gunk. A light shove sent him sailing into a nearby car, where the marshmallow kept him stuck down proper. 

“Stay raccoon put, please.” Still no good at puns.

He attempted to spit at me as I left to stop his trigger happy friends. 

A quick airblast knocked one of the men into the other, causing them to both stumble to the ground. My final marshmallow grenade later and they were contained. Their hands had been tangled together as they fell, making the grenade stick their arms to the ground and cover their guns up.

“Looks like you’re in a sticky situation,” I said. Better.

“Fuck you, those chinks started it.” 

I ripped off a piece of duct tape and covered his mouth. “I’d wash your mouth with soap but I have morals, unlike you.” I punctuated the ‘you’ with a light boop to his nose. 

I turned to his friend, “How about you?” 

He shook his head, staying silent. “Good. I’ll be back, shortly. Stick around.”

I warped to Mouse Protector, who was wrapping up her fight without me. All of the men were zip-tied, disarmed, and thrown against the wall.

One of the men had a gunshot wound in his leg. He looked old, way too old to be shooting a gun in a gang war. 

“Do I have permission to heal you?” I knelt down in front of him. 

“Ooh, so polite. Better leave them be, Knight, they’ll remember us better with the wounds,” Mouse Protector said while twirling her sword around. 

“It’ll make the paramedics job easier,” I said. She shrugged before plucking out her phone to call the PRT. 

The old man looked at me with fear in his eyes. It reminded me of Wendy. After a moment he nodded. His expression softened as the healing paste numbed the pain.

“Won’t heal you completely, but should stop the hurt. It’ll also speed up the recovery time a little.” 

We waited around for the PRT to arrive. Response times were slow with all that was going on right now, which gave us time to gather the Empire members together into an easy to arrest group. They protested a lot, the ABB on the other hand were completely quiet. 

Once the PRT agents arrived we were free to move on to yet more danger. 

***

There wasn’t an end in sight for the mindless destruction. Bakuda just kept on going, even after getting her boss back. 

I tried to think more about her goal. What was her endgame? Fear seemed the most obvious answer, but fear made people lash out. At some point she was bound to find herself at knife point while blissfully sleeping. She was putting bombs into her own people, making them fight for her, then blowing them up if they disobeyed. What did that accomplish? 

For one, it probably made it impossible for them personally to kill her. She most likely had some mechanism in place to detonate their bombs if they tried to attack her. Anyone close to her would have a bomb installed to discourage betrayal. Even those loyal to her would get one. There was no way to ensure they remained loyal, especially with their true leader coming back.

Would she put one in Oni Lee as well? Would she put one in Lung? 

Ruling through fear only works if you’re untouchable. She most likely considered herself above everyone if she thought it could work. 

“What do you think Bakuda’s goal is?” I asked Mouse Protector on our next break. We’d stopped in a park to eat sandwiches. Mouse Protector lounged across a bench as I sat in the grass nearby. 

“Other than to blow up half the city?” 

“Other than that.” 

“Power is my guess. She’s going on a murder spree to feel powerful, and she’s definitely insane.” 

“If it’s just power she wants, why not take out Lung and take over the gang?”

“I don’t know, kid. Daddy issues?” Mouse Protector shrugged. “We’ll probably never know. Why’re you thinking about it?” 

“I thought that if I understood her, I could understand how to stop her.” 

“Noble, and maybe in some other situation that could work. Not here, though. She’s insane with a capital I and her logic isn’t going to match your logic.” 

“Even if she is insane, it can help to know what she’s thinking, right? That way we know where she’ll hit next.” 

“Hmm. I’m not sure, but we can try it.” Mouse Protector hunched her back and extended her hands out like claws. “Bleh! I’m Bakuda, and I love blowing up children. I’m going to blow up children next!” 

“I don’t think you should joke about blowing up children,” I said. No one deserved to be blown up, but children were entirely innocent. 

“Alright, alright. But seriously, all the places she’s blown up, what do they have in common?”

“Nothing. She blew up a bridge, the trainyard, a bunch of shops, some pharmaceutical place, a couple of transformers, several roads, random houses, and a school that had no one inside.” I counted them off on my fingers as I said them. 

“Some important, some not,” Mouse Protector concluded. “So, no rhyme or reason behind each bomb, just random places. I got… diddly squat. Absolutely no clue.” 

There had to be something. “Random places means… she… doesn’t care? Yeah, she doesn’t care about the places she hits. Which means that it doesn’t matter to her what she’s hitting, it’s more for the effect of it?” 

Mouse Protector stretched herself out across the bench fully. “Power, like I said before.” 

“Maybe a little, but it’s the type of power that leaves you afraid of her. Eventually someone is gonna attempt to get rid of her, she’s too explosive of a leader.” 

“Heh. Good one, kid. Might be daddy issues like I said. She wants to impress Lung with all of it?” She shrugged again before taking a loud sip of her juice box. 

“Would Lung be impressed by this? He seemed happy to sit around doing nothing.” 

“You probably know better than I do, kid. This ain't my turf.” She rolled off the bench to her feet. “Listen, it’s a noble idea to try to understand them better so you can beat them better, but you’ll leave yourself dizzy with all that running in circles.” 

Mouse Protector squatted down in front of me. “The best way to defeat any villain, is to annoy the crud out of them. Make it humiliating to lose to you. How do you think people feel when they get beat by little old me shouting mouse puns at them?” 

“Like it’s the best day of their lives?” 

Mouse Protector snorted. “For you, maybe. For them, they take themselves seriously, they want others to take them seriously. So when they’re beaten by what most people incorrectly assume is a ‘joke’ hero.” She airquoted as she said ‘joke’. “No one takes them seriously afterwards. Ravager chased me all the way down here just to get her revenge, she wouldn’t do that if she didn’t really, really hate me.” 

“But knowing how they work–how their brain functions, let’s us know what they’re going to do next, right?” 

“Sure, maybe a little, but you gotta know when to stop. How long have you been trying to figure out Bakuda?” 

“Since the bombing started.” 

“That’s a whole four days of running around inside your head trying to figure out what she’s all about. All of that mental power could have been better spent figuring out a plan to defeat her, don’t you think?” 

Knowing her motivations might have helped figure out where to take those plans, but I could have been planning despite it. “Yeah. I just thought it would help make those plans in the first place if I knew why.” 

“Did you read her case file?” 

“Case file?” 

“PRT makes one for every cape that shows up, hero or villain. Piggy should have given you the basics at least.” 

“She didn’t.” 

Mouse Protector made a humourless ‘ha’ sound. “That’s what you get with Piggy. Best ask the robot you call a leader instead.” 

“Armsmaster?” 

“Yeah, beep boop man.” 

“Okay. Thanks for the advice.”

“No problem, ready to go?” She held out a hand to help me up. I took it and we returned to our patrol. 

Piggot most likely didn’t hold the information back for no reason. Despite whatever Mouse Protector had against her–and despite Piggot’s personality–she was a reasonable person. 

She’d once said that information was the key to winning any battle. It was in passing, but she clearly thought information helped win fights. Holding that back from us Wards didn’t make sense from what I knew of her. 

Going to Armsmaster felt wrong, like I was sneaking around. Piggot would respect it more if I spoke to her directly and I could use all the respect from her I could get. 

Maybe she’d even approve of a homegrown lab assistant? 

A/N: Thanks to Cauldron discord for proofreading as usual.

Chapter Text

“And so begins our first ever inaugural meeting of the Raccoon Knight fanclub!” Abi spreaded her raccoon sticker covered arms wide to welcome the new members.

Two of the ten people in the fanclub had shown up, which was less than she had expected. Seven of the ten members were from Brockton Bay, and she had tried to schedule around everyone. 

Her mom had rented them a small space at the community centre to host them all. The room lay bare with empty chairs waiting for people who were never going to arrive.

Bags of chips were placed in small bowls along the fold-out plastic tables, as well as a few other snacks. She’d bought three bottles of soda to have enough for everyone but now she was going to have to take them home to drink. 

Two boys–both around her age–sat behind the tables across from her. 

Bert was a short guy with dark skin and thick glasses. Unless his aunt forced him to cut his hair, it usually remained long and unstyled. Abi thought he seemed nice enough if not a bit distracted by whatever he was doing on his phone. 

Dash on the other hand was tall, lanky, and pale. His blonde hair was the definition of shaggy. Abi couldn’t get a good read on him, but she thought he must be a nice enough person if he came. 

Dash clapped in three slow bursts. “Yay,” he deadpanned.

He’d mostly come for the snacks and to meet new people. Raccoon Knight seemed fun but he didn’t really care either way. Abi had a cute enough face for him to not leave immediately, even if he considered her clothing choice garish. 

Flower-pattern dungarees with a bright yellow shirt beneath. Her brown hair had been tied up into a loose ponytail that didn’t do much to stop hair getting into her face, which she promptly blew away each and every time. 

Bert raised from his chair and walked over to the whiteboard Abi was standing by. He didn’t take his eyes off his phone the entire time. Dash thought his clothes were a bit too normal. A t-shirt and jeans felt so nondescript he might mistake the boy for a spy trying to blend in.

The whiteboard featured images of Raccoon Knight, as well as a list of her accomplishments. Creating it had been a communal effort while chatting on Parahumans Online. Bert had contributed the most, a fact he was proud of. 

He unlocked his gaze from his phone to scribble on the whiteboard: ‘March 30th - RK seen fighting two parahumans’ underneath her ‘accomplishments’. 

“Four days ago–at roughly three to four PM–Raccoon Knight was spotted fighting two parahumans outside of Green Grove Pharmaceuticals with help from Aegis and Kid Win. I think I’ve found who they are, as well,” Bert spoke in a bored monotone voice.

“Really? That’s awesome! Who are they?” Abi practically leapt with excitement. 

“Mush and Whirlygig. Based on my research, I think they’re independent villains who teamed up. Whirlygig can make swirling storms of small litter. Mush is a shapeshifter who uses loose debris to make his new form, including trash.” He marked down each villain in the ‘Raccoon Knight’s Enemies’ tab. 

“Wouldn’t Mush or whatever beat RK?” Dash asked. 

“You’re right! He’s the perfect counter! Do you know how the fight went, Bert? My mom forced me to go out to sushi with her so I couldn’t check your PHO message.” 

Bert adjusted his glasses before talking. “I got in contact with the person who posted the fight footage and they messaged me back this morning. According to him, Raccoon Knight hit headfirst into a wall, and then left with a paramedic after.” 

“Bert!” Abi yelled, causing Bert to flinch. “You’re amazing! Wait… she got hurt?!” 

“Sounds like it. My uncle hit his head bad once and he couldn’t think straight for a month. He still sometimes forgets stuff,” Dash said. He yawned wide before kicking his feet up on the table. 

“What do we do?” Abi rushed over to where Dash was sitting. ”Do you think they’ll get Panacea involved?” She said, leaning in closer to the lanky teen. He became a little uncomfortable at her intensity. 

“Panacea doesn’t fix brains.” Bert said from behind her. Abi’s head whipped around to look at him. 

“You’re right. Dammit, you’re right.” Her face dropped. Dash couldn’t help but feel bad, she just looked so lost and confused. 

“Maybe we could make her like, I dunno? Maybe a ‘get well soon’ basket or something.” 

“Dash! You’re a genius!” Abi’s head whipped around again. Bert worried she might hurt herself at this rate. 

“Sure, that’s what they say about me.” 

“What do we put in it? Do either of you know how to bake?” 

Dash did but chose to not say anything. 

“My aunty can,” Bert supplied. 

Abi ran over to him to grasp his shoulders in her hands. She beamed a bright smile at him. Bert stared at her with a blank expression. 

“Do you think you could get her to bake us like… a few cookies? And maybe some of those colourful round thingies?”

“Macaroons?” 

“Yes, macaroons!” 

“I could ask her, but that doesn’t mean she will.” 

“A gazillion million dollars! Wait, I only have ten. Will she accept ten dollars?” 

“You don’t need to pay her. We could get store bought ones for money.” 

“Homemade is so much better, though.” 

“All I can do is ask. She’s a busy woman.” 

“Fine, fine, that makes sense. What is she busy with? Maybe we could help her?” 

“She runs a soup kitchen and volunteers at a woman’s shelter.”

“Holy shoot, that's perfect! We could volunteer to help feed people at her soup kitchen, then she’d see how we mean well and then she can make us some homemade bakery treats?” 

“Let me ask her first.” Bert returned to staring at his phone again. 

Abi released her death grip on Bert's shoulders to let him text his aunt. She spun around to release some of her energy before sitting across from Dash. 

“Hi,” she said, staring intently into his brown eyes. 

“Um, hey,” he said. 

“Is your name actually Dash? Because my name isn’t actually Abi, it’s Abigail but everyone just calls me Abi. Is your name actually Dasholomew or Dashchard?”

“Just Dash. My parents wanted me to be fast or something, probably,” he chuckled. Abi laughed uproariously at his joke. 

“Fast? That’s hilarious. I wonder what my parents wanted me to be? What does Abigail even mean?” 

“We could look it up,” Dash said while pulling out his flip phone. “This place has the internet.” 

“Do it. Do it. Do it!” With each ‘do it’ Abi drew herself closer to the boy sitting across from her. 

“Okay, okay,” he waved her down. After a minute of him typing, and a minute of Abigail bouncing with nervous energy, Dash finally said, “Oh, here it is. Abigail means ‘cause of joy’ in Hebrew, or father’s joy. You seem pretty joyful, kinda fitting, y’know?” 

“I am joyful! Though if it's my ‘father’s joy’ then why does he keep cancelling? Maybe I’m not the right type of joyful anymore?” She said more to herself than to the other teen. 

“That sucks. It’s my mom for me, she keeps going on like ‘business’ trips–whatever that means–and leaving me with my dad. Though it’s chill, she brings me back cool stuff from Egypt or whatever.” He flicked his phone shut and slid it into his pocket with practised ease.

“Woah, that's cool. My dad is just a workaholic. He goes out of state to go to meetings about something? I don’t know what he does, actually.” 

Before Dash could speak, Bert sat down and interrupted the pair. 

“My aunty says she can bake us some things. We just have to help her make them, and to volunteer at her soup kitchen in the future,” he said. His eyes left his phone to stare at the bowl of chips in front of him. He dared to take one and try it. Not stale like he expected, but each chip had a different flavour like Abi had just poured all of the bags together before dividing them. Which is exactly what she had done. 

“Yes!” Abi fist pumped. 

“I don’t mind volunteering or whatever, but I have a lot of school work right now. So, I don’t know how long I can.” 

“Oh! I have a lot too. We’ll have to make a schedule.” Abi ran to grab poster paper and marker pens. 

Bert glanced up at Dash before averting his gaze. “Don’t feel like you have to volunteer, if you don’t want to.” 

“Huh? Oh, nah dude. It’s cool. She’s kind of intense but I’m not gonna be dragged along or anything.” He paused for a moment, then added, “You shouldn’t let her drag you around either. You haven’t said much at all and she’s just kind of volunteered you for everything. Are you alright or whatever?” 

Bert adjusted his glasses. He wasn’t used to interacting with people like this. Abi didn’t act differently in person than she did online. He’d expected a level of disconnect between her online self and her in-person self, the same applied to Dash. Neither of them were much different than who they were in text messages. 

So what did that say about him? He felt more confident online. It was easy to dictate facts and to skirt around actual conversation. 

“I’m okay.” He said and was surprised to find he meant it. “Thank you for asking.” 

“Good, good. Here,” Dash held up three fingers then tapped them against his chest, “if you ever give me that signal, I’ll get you outside for a breather, alright?” 

Bert nodded. He hadn’t expected Dash to be so thoughtful, that part did betray his online self.

A blur of a girl came rushing back towards various art supplies onto the table. “I’m back! Here’s all the stuff, I couldn’t find the tape so I had to look through each and every drawer to find it. Turns out, it was in my backpack. Anyway, let’s figure out our schedules!” 

The group spent about thirty minutes marking down the times they would be free, and idly chatting about their schedules. 

“What school do you guys go to? I go to Arcadia. Some of the kids there only go for half-days because they have internships but I wasn’t allowed to try for one because my grades are so bad.” Abi asked as they marked down their school times. 

“Winslow for me,” Dash said. “Place sucks.” He flicked a marker pen in frustration. “Total shit hole.” 

“Clarendon. My aunty wanted me to go to Immaculata but didn’t trust the area.” 

“Awh. I was hoping you went to Arcadia too. We could have hung out at school as well!” 

“Based on this. Our schedules line up on the third of April. We could all volunteer on that day and then help my aunty bake after that.” 

“Works for me.” Dash shrugged.

“Cool! That works for me too. We should get supplies today so we can put it all together right away! Wanna go buy stuff now? I have like, ten dollars.” 

“I can throw in a bit of money, if it’ll help. My dad gives me a bit of pocket money.” 

“Sorry, I don’t have anything on me except bus fare,” Bert said, his impassive face not showing his embarrassment. 

“That’s okay. You’re supplying us with the vital piece, the final component, the ultimate part of the puzzle.” Abi bolted out of her chair to raise her hands up to the fluorescent lights. “Baked goods!” 

***

They settled on going to the mall to make sure they could cover all bases. 

Abi’s normal loud tone made more sense amongst the hustle and bustle of people doing their shopping. Even then, Dash couldn’t help but wince whenever people turned their heads to see who was yelling. 

Bert wilted from the attention Abi was gathering to their group.

His aunt had encouraged him to meet new people after he told her about the fanclub meet-up. 

Originally he didn’t plan to go, content to just supply the group with information on his current favourite research topic. A heavy push from his aunt changed his mind. Right now, he was uncomfortable. Overall, however, he found that he didn’t mind the duo. 

Raccoon Knight wasn’t a well documented cape, especially with people being so averse to her due to her early public appearances. So he had taken it upon himself to supply her thread with actual information regarding her heroics and activities. 

Abi messaged him quite early on to invite him to an ‘actual real proper fangroup, not like the thread’ private group.

His supply of information trumped what they had gathered on their own. He’d even managed to find some of the cape’s early career that had been shrouded in mystery. 

He watched Abi spin around for the seventh time. Walking backwards in a busy mall made Bert worry for her safety. Despite currently moving, she still couldn’t sit still. 

She had profusely thanked Bert for his work multiple times over. He wasn’t used to praise. Normally, he edited wikipedia pages or supplied missing information from cape threads. Most people expected that information to be supplied and didn’t see the work that went into getting it. 

It filled him with an odd sensation, one he wasn’t used to. Being praised by his aunt was one thing, being praised by someone unrelated to him felt better. 

Along the way they were interrupted by Abi rambling about things in store windows. Both of them got to know her faster than they had got to know anyone. She was an open book, and they couldn’t help but share along with her. 

“What about this one?” Abi said while holding up a wicker basket. “Comes with some cute little ribbons.” 

“Probably a bit too small, might not be able to fit all the other stuff we’ve got.” Dash jostled his carrier bag full of items to punctuate his point. So far they’d gathered a collection of cheaper items, mostly dollar store things. They didn’t have much money to go around and most would be spent on the basket itself. 

Raccoon Knight didn’t seem like she would mind cheap stuff–one the most prominent images of her was her eating a sandwich from a Boardwalk bin, afterall. That image had been set as Abi’s wallpaper ever since it showed up.

“How about this one?” She grabbed a basket five times the size of the last. 

Dash rolled his eyes, causing Abi to giggle and pick a more reasonable sized one. 

Once they had collected their new basket, they headed out with barely a dollar coin to their name. 

Dash didn’t mind the expenditure, he received money daily from his dad and would probably have spent it on something stupid anyway. Abi would have spent more, if she had more, with no doubt in her mind about it. 

“Have either of you met a cape before?” Bert questioned the pair. 

“I met Aegis, Clockblocker, and Kid Win at the Boardwalk once. Pretty cool. We spoke for a bit and I got their autographs. They seemed chill, though, like, they also were swarmed by a bunch of people so we didn’t talk too much,” Dash said. 

“Woah! That’s so cool. Did Kid Win have any of his tech with him?” 

“He had some on his belt, and his hoverboard. I think. What about you? Meet any heroes?” 

“Nah. I wanna meet Raccoon Knight someday, though. Or Miss Militia. Both of them are pretty cool. What about you Bert?”

“I met a villain.” 

The group stopped dead, causing Bert to walk forward a little before he realised. 

“That sounds scary! Are you okay? Tell us what happened. Were they blowing stuff up? Who was it?” 

“I’m okay. I was walking home from school and they were trying to break into a manhole cover. They stopped me to tell me to steer clear. Nothing blew up while I was there but they did mention using explosives. It was Uber and Leet,” he supplied in order.

“Oh. That doesn’t sound too bad. Have you ever watched their stuff?” Abi asked.

“I watched them a bunch, pretty funny watching them fail and stuff. They had a mean streak for a bit so I stopped for a while but their new stuff is good too. Like how are they that incompetent when they’ve been doing it for so long?” 

Bert shook his head. “I watched them once. I didn’t enjoy it.” 

“Why not?” 

“They were driving around and beating up prostitutes.” 

“Oh, that’s when I stopped watching them too. Didn’t feel right. Still kind of bugs me.” 

“You still watch it.” 

“Hey, man. It’s not like I’m beating them up.” 

Abi held her hands out between them. “Woah, woah, woah. No arguing. We can settle this nicely, okay? Now, I side with Bert here. We shouldn’t encourage villainy, even if it is just giving them an extra view count. But, Dash is right, this is just him watching stuff for fun, he shouldn’t be blamed for what they do.” 

“I wasn’t blaming him. Sorry it sounded that way, Dash.”

“I’m sorry too, dude.” He rubbed a hand through his blond hair, messing it up further. “I’ll think about not watching them anymore, sound good?” 

“Okay, I can accept that. I volunteered at the same woman’s shelter my aunt did for a bit, and I saw a lot of nasty bruises on some of the women. It hurt to look at. I stopped going because it was too much. So, it was a little close to home.” 

“Shit, dude, that sucks. I guess I never really thought about it too much.” 

Abi grabbed them both into a double side hug. She squealed in delight. “Look at us! Solving problems and handling things like mature people would. We’re an excellent team.” 

“Yeah, yeah. We’re great.” Dash pushed himself away from the hug. “I have a gift card for the food court, you guys wanna get a bite to eat?” 

“Yes!” Abi let go of Bert who stumbled a little at the sudden lack of support. “Food time!” 

She stomped away with big steps towards the food court, forcing the boys to power walk to keep up. 

“You okay with physical contact like that, dude? We can ask her to stop if it’s too much.” 

“I’m okay with it. Just not used to it, is all.” 

“Alright. Well if it ever gets too much just let me know. I don’t think she’d take it poorly or anything, she seems nice enough, yeah?” 

Bert nodded, still unsure why the other teen was being so nice to him. 

***

Alora mused over her godson’s new friends. He’d spent the better half of the past three days hanging out with them.

Her first impressions hadn’t been exactly on the nose with the lankier teen boy. She had him pegged as a layabout who didn’t care about anything. He proved to be surprisingly empathetic and didn’t seem to mind the hard work. 

Abigail on the other hand didn’t seem to know the meaning of ‘thinking’. The young girl had word-spewed her entire thought process to Alora in the course of a minute. Keeping up with her took physical effort. Overall she didn’t seem to mind the work but did voice any and every question she had–which was a seemingly infinite amount. 

This wasn’t to say she had been annoyed by the teen’s unending questions, quite the opposite. Alora appreciated anyone who was willing to put in the work, and she had proven that she was. So, she answered all of them as best she could, which often just raised more. 

As long as Abigail kept working while asking, she didn’t mind. 

Bertrand was usually a quiet boy who needed a bit of poking to get him to talk. Getting a conversation out of him wasn’t hard, he just didn’t feel the need to express much of what he was thinking. Abigail seemed excellent at getting him out of that shell. She’d ask him a million questions, most Alora herself didn’t know the answer to. 

She wasn’t unfamiliar with her adopted nephew, but she hadn’t ever thought to ask him what his favourite colour was (orange), or what his ‘high score’ was in some video game. The questions were mundane and most people wouldn’t care, but she could tell that Abi was carefully storing them  in her memory. 

Dash provided his own answers too. She saw him talk to Bertrand whenever Abi ran off to talk to someone else. After inching ever closer–while pretending to double check stoves or sort out the food–she overheard him asking Bertrand if he was okay with the noise levels. It wasn’t what she had expected. 

Overprotective, maybe, but she had expected the boy to potentially be bullying her godson. To hear that he was just asking his new friend if he was alright gave her a warm feeling in her chest. 

After a few hours of labour she could see that the trio were exhausted. Bertrand helped here sometimes but never in the chaos himself. Usually, she let him fill out paperwork in the back. Even post lunch-time the kitchen received a lot of visitors, often people trying to avoid the lunch-time rush. Being in the middle of that chaos took a lot out of a person. 

She gathered together the teens to drive them back to her place to bake their promised treats. Making a gift basket for a cape she’d never heard of wasn’t what she thought they’d need them for. So long as Bertrand had friends, it didn’t matter. 

“Testimonials!” Abi shouted from the backseat. 

“Indoor voice, please.” Alora said. 

“Sorry. Testimonials!” She said at a more polite level. “We should get videos of the people Raccoon Knight helped. Bert, you said there were homeless people and some lady named Tony, right?” 

“Tina. Yes, one of her first appearances was helping homeless people. A few of them told the shelters that they had been healed by a cape wearing a bucket for a helmet. She asked them for soda can tabs, which lines up with what her chainmail looked like during the Rune fight. There were also homeless people saying that someone similar fixed their building’s plumbing and electricity.”

“Tina, that’s it. Bert you’re amazing, this is good. Real good. We should come back tomorrow and ask if any of them have met Raccoon Knight. And maybe we can get in contact with this Tina. Oh, we can’t bake today or they’ll go stale by the time we’ve got the footage.” Abi leant forward between the front seats. 

“Miss Hamza, would it be okay if I came back tomorrow to the soup kitchen? And also would it be okay if you baked for us in the future once we have the videos, instead?” 

“Sure, hon. Just remember to be polite to those people, okay? They’re there to eat. I have Wednesday off if you want me to bake, then.” 

Abi nodded with all the enthusiasm in the world. “Okay! I can do that. And yeah, we can get it all by Wednesday, right guys?” 

The boys gave her unsure nods. 

***

04/04/2011 03:35 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby : 

so was she wearing her iconic early era bucket helm when she saved you?

04/04/2011 03:35 PM - PorcelainGuitar: 

No, she was wearing a rainbow flag around her face. One of those gay pride ones. 

04/04/2011 03:36 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

thats even earlier than we knew! you must have been the first person she ever saved!!!! was she as nice as she seemed in person????

04/04/2011 03:37 PM - PorcelainGuitar: 

She was polite and nice to me. Even going so far as to reassure me that it’d be okay.

04/04/2011 03:37 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

woah!

totally awesome

04/04/2011 03:38 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

how did you know it was raccoon knight if she didn’t have her iconic armour??? 

04/04/2011 03:39 PM - PorcelainGuitar: 

She didn’t have a name at the time, she said she was still figuring it out. Later on I saw her bat/spear-thingy on the back of Raccoon Knight when they announced her, which let me put the pieces together. 

04/04/2011 03:39 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

YOU MET HER PRE NAME??!!!!! 

04/04/2011 03:39 PM - PorcelainGuitar: 

Yeah, I guess so? 

04/04/2011 03:39 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

awesome totally awesome

i am omega jealous right now

what did she smell like? people who met her early say she smelt bad but now people say she smells like apples

04/04/2011 03:41 PM - PorcelainGuitar: 

Not great. I figured it was because she’d been rooting around in the garbage. She even had bits of trash clinging to her still. 

04/04/2011 03:41 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

so cool! 

04/04/2011 03:43 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

hey so like i said in my first message 

not the message asking you to join the group the message from today

would you be willing to make a little video thanking her? i don’t even have to look at the footage if you wanna keep your identity secrettttttt 

04/04/2011 03:44 PM - PorcelainGuitar: 

I can do that, and I don’t mind if you watch it. Give me a little bit and I’ll get back to you. 

04/04/2011 03:44 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

04/04/2011 04:17 PM - PorcelainGuitar: 

Here:[File Attachment: Thank You.avi - 5.7 mb]

04/04/2011 04:17 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

THANK YOU

i really really really really really appreciate this

04/04/2011 04:18 PM - PorcelainGuitar: 

No problem. I’ve got to get ready for work now. See you. 

04/04/2011 04:18 PM - blabbyabigabbyhabby: 

BYEEEEEEEEEEEE

***

Bert adjusted the cheap video camera to accommodate for the noon sun. 

Dash and Abi stood in front of a homeless man with dark wrinkled skin. His salt and pepper beard was the most hair on his head. They’d lucked into finding him in the soup kitchen after asking if anyone there knew Raccoon Knight. 

“Recording,” Bert informed them. 

“Okay! Rex, could you tell us about your interaction with the fabled Raccoon Knight.” Abi mimed speaking into a microphone she didn’t have then held it out to Rex to speak into. 

He leaned in for a moment before realising she wasn’t holding anything. “Sure, I can do that. I was collecting bottles, cans, and the sorts to sell later. She approached me and asked for the tabs in exchange for a weird looking sandwich.” 

“And what did you do?” 

“Well, I asked her why the bread looked funny. Said it was homemade, or a mix of different bread, I’m not sure. I do remember that it had ham and honey mustard.” 

“Did it taste good?” Abi continued to mime the microphone moving back and forth. 

“Yes, it did.” 

“Did Raccoon Knight heal you with her awesome cool healing gunk?” 

“Not sure I’d call it gunk, but yes, she did offer me some. She told me it was made out of marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows? Write that down!” She gestured to no one in particular. Dash pulled out his phone to mark it down. 

“Yep, marshmallows. It worked too, healed my leg right up.” 

“Woah! Can we see? Your leg I mean.” 

Rex rolled his pant leg up to reveal a scar running up his calf. 

“Doesn’t look like it’s healed,” Dash investigated the scar. To him it looked like any other scar.

“Her mystery balm healed me up faster than it would have on its own. Clinic told me that the infection they spotted had cleared up faster than it would have, too. Never got to thank her for it, she only came back once.” 

“Magical healing marshmallow gunk! Crazy, you can only see it here, folks,” Abi stared directly into the camera while gesturing to the scar.  

“Who’re you talking to?” Dash asked. 

“Our adoring audience!” 

“Okay…” 

“Anyway! What do you want to say to Raccoon Knight! We can guarantee that this recording will reach her personally.” 

“We can’t guarantee that, but we will try,” Dash amended. 

“Just… Thank you. My leg feels better, and I enjoyed our short conversations. I wish you the best with being a hero, odd little duck.” 

“And… cut! Good work everyone.” 

Rex bid them farewell, pleased that he finally got to thank the girl. 

Then the trio were set with the task of finding someone else she had helped. No one had any leads. 

“What about the Rune fight? Did anyone get hurt?” 

“From the news report there were injured civilians who were healed by an unnamed parahuman.” He double-checked the information on his phone before saying it. 

“Knowledge guy, Bert. A million points!” 

“So, what, we just go knocking on houses?” 

“Maybe we could put an ad in the paper. If you’ve been helped by the amazing Raccoon Knight, call here!” 

“That won’t work. People will just crank call you all the time.”

“Dammit! I always forget the human capacity to be a jerk.” Abi squished her cheeks to make a long, low raspberry noise. 

“We could ask in the PHO post. You said your private messages were already flooded with mean people anyway.” 

“Bert! You’re a genius as always. I can do that. Think we’ll get any actual messages?” 

The boys both shrugged.

“Worth a shot, I guess,” Dash said. 

***

Abi rubbed at her eyes as she opened up PHO. Crafting her message had taken all of her creative spirit and left her so drained she passed out as her head hit the pillow. Or it was from working in a soup kitchen two days in a row. 

She had received seven messages. Raccoon Knight’s thread had died down significantly since its debut on the twenty-seventh. People grew bored easily. Bullying a teenager who had only posted one message and none since got tired fast. 

The hero’s post in the thread had done nothing but endear her more in the heart of the teenager. Despite the spelling mistakes, it was clear that Raccoon Knight just wanted to clear the air and explain things. So she didn’t want to waste perfectly good food, who cares? 

Her eating a sandwich had been set as Abi’s background since it was posted. There was just something about it that made her smile. 

All seven messages were trolls. Nothing. She knew there had to be more people out there but had no idea how to find them. 

She groaned, lamenting the lack of information on her new favourite cape. 

To make matters worse, Bert sent her a text to tell her that his Aunt had something come up and couldn’t bake for the foreseeable future. 

Abi squished her unicorn plush tight, venting her frustrations into a bear hug. 

She fired off a text to Dash to tell him the bad news. 

Abi : miss hamza cant make any delicious treats for our favourite awesome super hero

Abi: toooooo busy

They at least had the non-perishable candy already in the gift basket. At this point she felt the need to just accept store bought baked goods.

Dash: that sucks 

Dash: I can bake

Abi: WHAT?!

***

Dash could bake well. He personally thought his repertoire was lacking, but he could at least make the items they had been looking for. The downside had been waiting three days for Dash to have a day free from family obligations. 

All three new friends met up at his house to assist in the baking process.

Bert had been surprised by the neighbourhood. His Aunt lived past Captain’s Hill so he hadn’t really been into the docks before. To say it was outside his comfort zone was an understatement.

Dash had assured him several times over that the area was safe, just rundown, and that his dad was willing to drive Bert home if needed. 

After an awkward introduction to Mr Callahan–Dash’s dad–he had left the kids alone to their own devices.

Abi sat on his countertop, sneaking finger scoops of the cookie dough whenever she thought no one was looking. Bert scanned through the baking recipes and was designated measurer. Dash was busy baking, while also trying to make sure Abi didn’t eat all the dough before they were done. 

They baked a variety of things, including some extra to sate the ever-hungry maw of Abigail. 

“So, you don’t even eat sugar?” Abigail asked Dash after he had off-handedly mentioned it. 

“Nope. I use alternatives when baking for myself.” 

“M’you hate guff tashing stuff?” Abi said through a mouthful of cookie. 

“I’ve no idea what you just said.” 

“Do you hate good tasting stuff?” She repeated after her mouth was clear. 

“It still tastes good without sugar. I just don’t like eating the stuff. We don’t drink any soda either.” 

“We? So it’s your parents forcing you into at gunpoint!” She held her fingers up in a gun shape to Dash’s head. “Eat the not sugar or we’ll force you to eat celery all day.” 

“Celery is good.”  

“Celery is the devil!” 

“It’s good with peanut butter,” Bert chimed in. 

“Peanut butter? Are you insane? Bert if you’ve gone mad you’ve legally got to tell me. We’re friends now and that means you have to legally tell me this stuff, okay?” 

Dash left to grab a stick of celery and a jar of peanut butter. He dipped the stick into the jar before holding it out to Abi. She fake gagged as he pushed it closer. 

“Come on, one bite won’t kill you.” 

“It’ll murder me dead! My blood will be on your hands!” 

“That’s fine by me. Take a bite.” 

“So cruel, so callous. To think you could betray me so easily.” 

“Take a bite, drama queen.” 

Abi clicked her tongue. “Fine.” She liked peanut butter but definitely did not like celery. The idea of eating it did make her want to gag for real. After hesitating too long, Dash pushed it a little closer. Abi took it from him as if it were a live snake before taking a hesitant bite. 

She liked it. “Damnit.” 

“Ha. Knew it. What do you say?” 

“Fine, sorry I guess. Celery is okay sometimes.” 

“Good enough. Wanna, like, watch some TV while these bake?”

They left to channel surf while their baked goods finished. 

Being around a friend’s house this late in the afternoon made Abi feel like she was breaking some kind of rule. Her mom had caved right away to her demands of going out. It still felt like rule breaking despite parental approval. 

Getting Mr Callahan’s approval for the five PM baking session hadn’t taken much. Like Abi’s mom, he was trying to accommodate for the other parent not being around as much. 

Bert practically required a three page essay on why he should be allowed to join them. His aunt had approved of his friends, but had also been worried about sending him to a part of town she considered dangerous. He felt like it had been worth the effort of convincing her. Over the past eight days their friendship had grown more than any other friend he’d had. Though he wasn’t there yet to admit that to them.

His phone now featured pictures of them together doing a few activities, and sometimes just hanging out. As he scrolled through, trying to wrack his brain for something fun they could do tomorrow, he received an alert from the PHO thread. 

Raccoon Knight had been seen patrolling with Mouse Protector. 

“Abi. Look.” He held the phone up for her to see. Her eyes scanned the screen several times over before she reached out to grab the phone as if that would make it less real. 

“No, no, no, but our get-well-soon basket can’t be a get-well-soon basket if she’s already well!”

“What’s happening?” Dash asked, shutting the TV off. 

“Raccoon Knight was just seen patrolling with Mouse Protector.” 

“It’s a travesty! We’re ruined! Everything crumbles beneath my grasp!” Abi wailed, half-tripping over the coffee table as she started to her feet. “We’re doomed!” 

“Calm down, we’re not ruined, dude. She’s better, that’s a good thing. We can just change the card up to something else, okay?” 

“But who sends a basket for no reason?” 

“It’s a ‘thank you’ basket. People send baskets for all sorts of reasons, probably.” 

“My aunty sent one to a business associate who moved away.” 

“See. People send baskets for stuff.” 

Abi turned to look at the boys. A smile crept up her face. “How about a ‘stay well’ basket? We can say we were making it for her concussion, and now that she’s better we can just tell her to not get a concussion again.” 

“Sure, we can make a ‘stay well’ basket instead. Work for you, Bert?” 

He nodded. 

“Good, works for all three of us.”

“Okay, this is good. Sorry, I freaked out there. Okay, okay, okay. We can fix this and then send it. Wait… does anyone know how to send stuff to the Wards?” 

They didn’t. 

Sending things to a new Ward had proven to be needlessly difficult. 

Abi had done the research over the past two weeks. Well, she’d started it and then asked Bert to do it. 

Wards didn’t often receive packages from fans due to security reasons. Getting anything bigger than a letter sent was an arduous process. Fanmail could work, but she wanted to save it as a last resort. Without being able to contact Raccoon Knight directly, she struggled to think of ways to get the gift to her. 

At least they got to eat all the things Dash had made. 

She’d attempted to send messages to Raccoon Knight over PHO, but her PM’s had been closed. Why did people have to be so mean to her? 

Abi trudged into class. School didn’t agree with her, and she didn’t agree with it. At least she got to have fun talking to the other students in her remedial class. Neither Dash or Bert had made fun of her for being considered a ‘problem’ student, much to her surprise. Usually people weren’t so kind. 

The two boys had become fast friends, and in just under three weeks she considered them her closest. She only wished they came to Arcadia. 

Mrs. Wilkins spoke in a soft voice, wore soft clothes, and had a soft attitude. Despite being as meek as a dormouse, she knew how to wrangle together the so-called ‘undesirables’ that were placed in her class. 

Officially, they were students who needed an extra helping hand to receive the same education as their fellow students. Unofficially, Abi could recognise when people were looking down on her, and every uttered ‘you have so much potential’ just made her want to scream. Mrs. Wilkins stood in stark contrast to those teachers. She listened, and didn’t mind if Abi spoke a little loud sometimes. Never once did Abi feel looked down on by the timid woman.

She fistbumped Tommy before falling into her chair. Tommy didn’t speak, which made him great at listening, and Abi loved to speak. 

Mrs. Wilkins cleared her throat to grab the class's attention. Standing beside her was someone new. Her hair was incredibly long, reaching down to her thighs. It waved and wobbled and clumped into tangled spurts. A round, pudgy face with a slightly content smile. A scar ran across her chin. Abi’s mom told her that every scar tells a story, but that story doesn’t always want to be told. Maybe she’d ask the girl about it! 

Overall, she didn’t stand out as unusual, except for her hair. Just a normal person.

“We have a new student today. She’s got a lot of catching up to do, so please help her when you can.” Mrs. Wilkins turned to the girl and asked her to say a few words. Her content face turned startled instantly. 

It reminded Abi of Dash. His face often betrayed his emotions even when trying to hide them. 

“Oh, um…” She fidgeted with her hair. “My name is Meadow. I like bubblegum ice cream… and, um… did you know that the Andromeda galaxy is moving towards us but the rest are flying away?”

Mrs. Wilkins gave her a funny look before thanking her and asking her to go to her seat. 

Abi’s gloomy aura dissipated as she thought about making a new friend. Maybe she’d join the Raccoon Knight fanclub?

Chapter Text

Nervous energy balled up inside of me and refused to release. Even moving couldn’t get rid of the tight feeling in my chest. 

Lung had been taken out by the villains. Bakuda had been captured, her super bomb stopped. Vista and Clockblocker were heroes to the whole Ward team for helping to stop it. I wasn’t even included in the attack plan. Not that I was bitter, it would just be nice to be included in something important. 

Only stragglers of the ABB were left. There was still plenty to do when I next patrolled, but for now, school. 

Despite knowing that she was gone, despite knowing that her remaining bombs were being disarmed, despite the soldiers outside, despite knowing that I was safe, I still couldn’t help but flinch at every passing person on the way to Arcadia.

Students from Immaculata High had been some of Bakuda’s victims. Students from Arcadia could have bombs implanted into them and not even know it. 

Tinkers were creative, she could have used a sleeping gas bomb to implant them stealthily. If I was her, it would have made sense to do it quietly. 

Doing school work or even meeting new people felt pointless in the face of the past week. I should have been out there, fighting, disarming bombs, and helping people. There was still so much damage, so much destruction left to fix. 

Guards stood outside the gates to Arcadia, scanning people with devices as they passed, a metal detector. My finger would likely trigger it due to the metal framework implanted inside.

I considered leaving to avoid facing it all but thought better of it. Leaving at the first hurdle would be admitting defeat. At least school was only a few hours per day right now. I could leave later on if it got too much.

“Take out anything metal and open your backpack, please,” one of the guards asked me. 

“I have some metal shrapnel in my middle finger, right hand,” I lied.

“That’s fine.” 

He waved the device over me as the other guard checked my backpack. It beeped as it passed over my finger but he ignored it. Lying was wrong. In this case, it was justified. 

The guard returned my backpack to me before turning his attention to the next student in line. Even these guards didn’t make me feel safer from the invisible threats. 

I took a deep breath in. I can do this.

When I spoke to Piggot about Bakuda’s file I’d asked her why she did her job. She considered herself a soldier, changing from sword to pen didn’t change that. Paperwork was just another battlefield for her to fight in. 

School should be similar–just another battlefield to fight in. 

Mostly, I didn’t want to disappoint Heather. She had been excited at me getting to go back to a ‘normal’ life. Could I ever be normal with the ringing still in my ears? 

No one paid me any attention as I found my way to class. Just another face in the crowd. As long as I remembered my list, no one should bother me: Don’t eat from the trash. No tinkering. Remember to shower. 

The classroom I would be spending the rest of the school year in was hidden away in the southern part of Arcadia. It was the only door at the end of a dead-end hallway. Being close to the cafeteria helped further obscure it, as most people wouldn’t notice an extra place when they were hungry for food. 

Mrs. Wilkins, my new teacher, wore a moss-coloured cardigan over a flowery dress. Chestnut hair fell loosely down to her shoulders. Her big, droopy eyes blinked at me as I entered the room. 

“Ah, Meadow, I assume?” Her voice was soft, but still perfectly audible. Vista had explained to me how people did that, she called it ‘projecting your voice’. A vital skill for public speaking, or for a young hero. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” 

My nerves threatened to burst out of my seams. Other students were already seated to my left, some of them staring directly at me. I tried to ignore the stares as I took a deep, calming breath. Time to be Meadow, not Raccoon Knight. I managed to force my face into a smile. 

Mrs. Wilkins nodded, then cleared her throat. All of the class turned to look at me. 

They’re just normal students. No weapons, no bombs, no powers. 

“We have a new student today,” Mrs. Wilkins said. “She’s got a lot of catching up to do, so please help her when you can.” She turned back to me before saying, “Introduce yourself, dear.” 

“Oh, um…” How do I introduce myself? “My name is Meadow. I like bubblegum ice cream… and, uh…” I struggled to find anything else about myself. It was like Mrs. Wilkins had drained all my memories from me in an instant.

People like facts, right?

“Did you know that the Andromeda galaxy is moving towards us but the rest are flying away?”

Wikipedia had become my favourite site since getting my laptop. There were so many things you could learn that led into yet more things. 

Mrs. Wilkins' face shifted into an expression I didn’t understand. Maybe she didn’t know that fact? 

“Ah, thank you, Meadow. Take a seat wherever you like. I’ll be handing out assignments shortly.” 

There were six other students in the class, three girls and three boys. Dozens of empty seats meant this classroom was used for more than just us. All of my classmates had decided to sit in the front two rows. 

Everyone looked… normal. Maybe it was just from the way the class had been described to me but I had expected the people to look more unusual. 

A girl wearing bright yellow clothes waved at me as if trying to dislodge a bug from her arm. 

“Meadow! Sit here!” She patted the desk to her right. Sitting anywhere else would feel rude, now. Besides, there was no reason to be unfriendly to her. 

I took a seat at the desk next to her, slinging my backpack over the back of the chair. 

The blond-haired boy in front of the enthusiastic girl looked back at me with a blank expression before turning back to the front. 

“Hi, my name is Abigail but everyone calls me Abi! Abigail means ‘cause of joy’, did you know that? You can also call me Abi if you want.” 

A strand of her brown hair escaped out of her ponytail, falling into her face as she leant over to me. She tried to blow it away but it just fell back to where it was. 

“Okay. Nice to meet you, Abi.” I didn’t know what else to say to her. 

“Nice to meet you too! This is Tommy.” She patted the boy in front of her on the back. “He doesn’t speak, but he’s a great listener. 

“Also that’s Eric.” She gestured to a wide boy with square features. He was doodling with an intense look on his face. “He likes playing the trombone.” 

“That’s Tiffany but we call her Taffy.” Taffy looked spaced out, she seemed to be counting the ceiling tiles. Her dark silken hair shimmered as she shifted her head to count behind her.

“There’s Mel, we call her Mel.” The stocky girl wore dark clothes with purple accents. She had big, clunky boots kicked up onto the vacant seat in front of her. I liked her face, it looked nice. 

“Terry, he likes making origami.” Abi gestured to a skinny boy whose desk was completely covered in little paper structures. He was in the middle of making another as she spoke. His brown hair was styled into a bowl cut, a hairstyle that I still didn’t understand. 

“And that’s, oh, that’s everyone. Also you, Meadow, but you knew that.” 

“Thanks for introducing everyone?” I said, part-confused, part-thankful. It was a lot of people to take in at once.

“No problem!” 

Conversation still failed to be a skill I had while Meadow. For some reason, being Raccoon Knight made the confidence thing a whole lot easier. Mrs. Wilkins stood up before I could figure out what to say next. 

We weren’t all learning the same thing, as we were all here from different places in life–even if no one here looked much older than me. 

Mrs. Wilkins' job was to tell us what we needed to read, what worksheets we needed to do, and to offer individual help if we got stuck. Otherwise we were free to work at our own pace.

She went around the classroom to give the small group our individual lessons. 

“Let me know if you need any help, Meadow. I’ll also check in with you later on. For now, just focus on worksheet A and leave the rest for the future. Feel free to ask the other students if you need help, as well. Just don’t disturb anyone, okay?” Mrs. Wilkins said. I nodded. 

Today’s worksheet was English, my worst subject. The PRT had assigned me a lot of tests to determine where I was education wise. Science and maths were my best subjects, probably thanks to my power. She had helped me a lot over the past couple of months, I didn’t know where I’d be now if not for her. 

I couldn’t recall what my old best subjects had been. Memories of school were a distant blur in my mind. 

The sheet wasn’t too hard, neither was the reading I needed to do, but focusing on school work felt impossible. My eyes would slip away from every word on the page no matter how hard I tried to focus. 

There, their, they’re. Who cares? My eyes wandered over there, to Mel. She was scribbling against the page as if trying to tear it apart. Their work would be ruined if they continued. Mel’s hazel eyes met my own. They’re looking right at me!

Her eyes wandered down to my paper then back up to me. I looked away. 

Her boots made big, stompy footsteps as she walked over to me. 

“Hey, new kid. Meadow, right?” Her accent was unfamiliar. Probably not from around here. 

“Yes.” I hoped she wasn’t here to yell at me for staring at her. 

“You need help?” 

“Oh, um, sure.” 

Mel left to grab her chair. She shoved it against my desk then sat down next to me. She was much taller up close, and the muscle-definition in her arms became more obvious. The smell of cherries drifted from her short, black hair. 

She leant closer to check over my assignment. 

“You got ‘where’ wrong on this part. Think of it like a sister to ‘there’. So, if I asked ‘where is my pencil?’, you could say ‘over there’.” She pointed to nothing in particular, then spelled ‘there’ out letter-by-letter. 

“That makes sense. The ‘H’ makes them siblings.”

“Perfect.” Mel smiled at me, then showed me a few more things I had got wrong. 

My eyes drifted to her face, which was covered with obvious makeup in dark colours. Heather had taught me how to apply subtle makeup to hide certain imperfections. She didn't explain why we were supposed to use it though, so I often forgot. Mel’s makeup stood out; it wasn’t trying to be sneaky like the way Heather did hers. 

Maybe not in dark colours, but more obvious makeup might be fun to try. My first thought was to ask Heather if she knew how to do it, then I realised the obvious answer was sitting right next to me. 

“I like your makeup. Could you teach me how to do it like that?” 

Mel squinted at me. “Thank you,” she said slowly. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head a little. “Thank you,” she said again. This time she smiled at me. 

“Sorry. I’m used to people being dicks. You don’t seem like the type to wear stuff like this.” She gestured to her face and body. 

“Hm, not really. I prefer brighter colours. I’ve just never seen makeup like yours.” 

Mel got up out of her chair all of a sudden to walk over to her bag. Her hands reached deep into the thick backpack to rummage around inside. Eventually she found what she wanted and returned with several small brightly coloured pots. 

Their glass jars clicked and clacked as she placed them down on the desk in front of me. 

“My sister likes bright colours too. She always forgets to bring her nail polish to school so I ended up buying spares in case she ever needs it. What colour do you want?” 

What colour did I want? Each of them looked like they’d be fun to paint with. You could make a pretty field of flowers with a sunny sky, a meadow. “All of them?” 

Mel’s face lit up, a bright contrast to her dark clothing. “We can do that. Hold out your hands like this.” 

Her fingers splayed across the desk showed me what to do. Nail polish smelled weird. A small price to pay for the colours. 

After a few short minutes each finger nail had been painted a different colour. Wiggling fingers made for a shimmering rainbow. 

“Thank you. These are awesome!” I gave Mel the brightest smile I could. 

Her face flushed red for some reason as she smiled back. “They suit you. No problem. Anyway, we should get back to work.” 

Mel spent some time guiding me through the rest of my worksheet. She never told me the answer, instead trying to give me hints and to guide me along the right track. It was hard but with Mel’s help, I got through it before the bell. 

Mel’s guidance helped me remain focused on the tasks at hand. Mostly. We spent a bit of time just talking, getting to know one another. By the end of my few short hours, we’d arranged to meet up outside of school in a couple of days, then again further in the week for a makeup tutorial. I looked forward to them both. 

Abi had joined in on our conversations occasionally but kept remembering she was supposed to be doing something else and then hopping back to her own desk. She was enthusiastic about seemingly every single thing she put her mind to. 

Mel headed home instead of coming to lunch with me. Abi and Taffy joined me instead. 

Lunch lined up with the end of school for me. Technically I could just go home and eat there. However, Heather would still be at work and I was still learning how to cook. There was also the benefit of getting to know my potential new friends. 

Taffy was tall, standing several heads over everyone in the class. Based on her features I figured she was asian. Long legs gave her long strides that were hard to keep up with. It didn’t help that she had no situational awareness, making her often barge through gathered groups of people. Abi didn’t seem much better, which left me to apologise to each person we shoved past. 

“Bert ended up eating the whole cookie in like three seconds flat! We were shocked, surprised, and amazed that he could eat so fast. Dash was sure he would beat him,” Abi continued to ramble as we walked to the cafeteria. 

My brain was too focused on checking the people around us for potential weapons or for potential threats to listen to what she was saying. I hummed in response at what I thought were appropriate times. 

Two girls ahead of us pushed away from the lockers they were leaning against, both began heading towards us. A look in their eyes and the way they walked made me think they were looking for trouble. 

One of the girls began to speak as she walked over to our group, “Well, looks like motormouth dragged something fresh out of the trash. What do you–” I cut the blonde girl off by punching her in the mouth. 

She collapsed backwards to the ground, holding her lip as blood spurted out between her fingers. Her friend squawked then moved towards me, I punched between her collarbones to disable her advance. She joined her friend on the ground. 

“What the heck! Meadow, why'd you hit them?!” Abi pulled me away from the now crying girls. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Are you insane you stupid bitch?” The blonde girl screamed from the floor. Flecks of blood spat out of her mouth as she spoke. Two boys were attending to the girl I’d punched in the sternum. 

Abi led me back towards the classroom we’d come from. The girl I’d punched screamed some more rude things as we left. Taffy followed along, her face stuck in a wide-eyed expression. 

“Meadow… Why did you? Why’d you hit her?!” Abi asked, continuing to lead me through the hallways. 

“She was a threat, I dealt with it.” 

“Isabelle isn’t a threat! She’s a bag of air! You didn’t need to punch her just for saying mean things.” 

“I thought she was going to hurt you or Taffy.” 

Taffy didn’t react to her name, continuing to stare wide-eyed ahead of us. 

“No. She’s not a physical person, just likes hearing the sound of her own voice. You can’t just hit people!” She let go of my arm to face me. “Oh gosh, I’m gonna be in so much trouble.” Abi chewed on the end of one of her stray strands of ponytail. 

“Why would you be in trouble for me defending you?” 

“I don’t know! That’s just how it works!” Her arms waved around as she spoke. “You hit her because of me and that means I’ll get in trouble too. My mom’s gonna kill me.” 

“Your mom hurts you?” 

“What? No? It’s just an expression. Geez, what’s with you?” 

“I don’t… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get you in trouble. I just wanted to help.” 

“It’s fine. Well, it’s not fine, but it’s fine. Just… let’s go talk to Mrs. Wilkins, okay? She’ll know what to do.” Abi walked ahead. “C’mon Taffy.” She gripped the taller girl's hand in her own to guide her along. 

Leaving was still an option. Leaving Abi to deal with the consequences of my actions wasn’t an option. I followed along. 

***

Mrs. Wilkins was upset with me. The principal was upset with me. Heather was upset with me.

I stared at the floor of the principal’s office as they scolded me for fighting. All of them were treating me with a level of care you’d use for porcelain figures, as if the wrong word would make me explode. Heather didn’t say much at all other than apologising on my behalf. 

Due to my circumstances, they were being lenient with me–my phone told me that meant less strict. 

The first part of my punishment was that I had to leave school before lunch time from now on to reduce the chance for me to run into other students. I was also required to go to an anger management class after school every week. Anger wasn’t the emotion I felt before punching them. Anger usually felt explosive, like it needed to escape at all costs. Punching them had felt like the right thing to do, no emotion involved. 

Still, Heather thought it was a good idea, and it beat being kicked out of school after my first day there. Despite my nerves, it hadn’t been so bad. 

Heather and I drove back home in silence. She didn’t even glance at me once during the entire ride. After we parked in the driveway the door handle didn't open the door. The lock switch didn't look red. Red for go was confusing. 

“Meadow,” Heather said. 

“What?” I looked over to her. She looked sad. 

“I don’t want to punish you for this.” 

“Then don’t.” I turned away to stare at a bird out the window. It fluttered between branches without a care in the world. 

“You understand what you did wrong, right?” 

I grunted in a vague ‘yes’. 

“I don’t want to punish you because I think this is because of the hero thing. You’ve been in crisis mode all week, so it’s understandable why you reacted the way you did. You saw what you thought was a threat and reacted with a level of violence you thought would solve it.” She paused for a long moment. I didn’t feel the need to respond. 

“I overworked myself, so you overworked yourself,” she continued. “It’s my job to look out for you and in this situation, I failed. We both needed a break from it all but I failed to give you that. To give us that.” 

Heather paused again. She took a deep breath before continuing. I looked back over to her. Her eyes were focused dead-ahead as if she could see through the closed door of the garage.  

“Still, that doesn’t mean you can hit someone. It’s also hard to blame you for it due to your situation.” Heather slumped forward to rest her head against the steering wheel. She groaned. “This is hard, Meadow.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Thank you, I just… we need to open a dialogue, okay?” 

“What does that mean?” 

She straightened up then looked over to me. I avoided her gaze by looking at the dashboard. 

“It means we need to talk. To have a back-and-forth conversation that lets us both know what each other is thinking. Can we do that?” 

“Sure.” 

“Good. Good…” 

For a long while we both sat there in silence. Birds fluttered outside, singing a small tune. Wind rustled the trees in a hushed song. Nature hummed in harmony, unaware we were here. 

I rested my forehead against the cool glass of the window. Heather tapped a tune of her own against the car steering wheel, a song of anxiety. 

“This week sucked,” Heather breached the silence. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

I hummed in response. 

“I’ve been so stressed out. I kept having to run from bomb-to-bomb, from fight-to-fight, and the entire time I kept thinking about you being out there. I was so worried that the next call would be that you were hurt–or worse–and I didn’t know how to deal with that. So I just kept going, trying to save the next person so that their loved ones didn’t hear the same call I feared getting.” Heather stared straight forward, her knuckles turning white from the death grip she had the steering wheel in. 

I leant over to hug her. She flinched at my touch before wrapping her arms around me. Traitorous tears broke free of my eyes. 

“I was so scared, too. I was scared I was going to die. I was scared you were going to die. I keep having dreams where I find you buried beneath all that rubble or I find you turned to stone. Mom, I don’t know how to deal with this. It’s all too much. I keep jumping at every passing person and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

Heather squeezed me tight, gentle shushes joined the tender hug. Tears of her own fell onto my back. 

“It’s okay. We’re going to be alright. We can get through this. I know it’s scary but we can fix this. We’ll both go to therapy more often. We’ll look out for each other, make sure we’re both safe. We’ll get through this. Okay, Meadow?” 

I fought back the sobs to speak, “We’ll get through this. Yeah, we’ll get through it.” 

I believed it.

***

Healing isn’t an instant process. Like most things, it takes work and effort. 

Neither of us were quite sure what the future held. What we did know was that we had each other. Knowing that I wasn’t alone in my thoughts helped a lot on its own. 

So we watched movies we’d seen before. Knowing all the story didn’t ruin the movie for me. It gave me a comforting familiarity. Heather normally complained that we were watching the same movie for the seventh time in a week. Tonight, she just wrapped us in a blanket and watched along.

Neither of us were okay, but we were both here. 

Today wasn't what I expected. A week ago I had been excited at the prospect of going to school. Now, I found myself struggling to want to go back. I didn’t regret hitting Isabelle. I did regret the impression I made on my classmates. 

Not all of it had been bad. Mel had been nice, we’d even set up to meet outside of school. Would she still want to go after learning I punched two girls? 

“I met someone today. I mean I met the whole class, but one of the girls helped me with my work,” I told Heather as the movie continued in the background. Her head rested on top of my own, it shifted in a way that showed she was looking down at me.

“Was she nice?” 

“Very.” I held out my hands for Heather to see my nails. “She painted my nails.” 

“Colourful.” 

“Yeah.” 

We continued to bask in the familiar warmth of a seen movie. Heather twirled a strand of my hair around in her fingers. I stopped a yawn before it could escape me. 

“She asked me to go out with her in a few days,” I said. 

“That’s nice. You should do it.” 

“Yeah? I wasn’t sure if I should. I don’t want to, y’know, again.” 

“It’d be good for you. Just be careful.”

“What if she doesn’t want to because I hit someone?” 

“Then give her time. First impressions aren’t the end-all, be-all, you can always make up for it. Who knows, maybe she’ll surprise you?”

***

Mel snorted with laughter. “That’s fucking hilarious. She’s a bitch, totally deserved it.” 

“I’ve never hit someone before!” At least not outside of training. 

“Really? You hit them like a pro from what I heard.” 

“I’ve had some self-defence classes.” 

“Nice, I approve. I took kickboxing for a while, more for sport than self-defence.” 

“That’s so cool!” 

Mel smirked at me, while brushing a finger across her nose. 

We had stopped in a small park that barely counted as a park. Despite its small stature and rusted out playground, it offered us a level of privacy we didn’t have wandering the streets. 

Our day had started with window shopping before we both got bored of just looking. We had no real plan or goal in mind for what to do, so we just began to walk around the nicer areas of the city. We avoided Empire territory as best we could. Our skintones shouldn’t stand out to them, but neither of us wanted to deal with the potential of meeting one of the local nazis. 

I wished they didn’t exist. 

Hookwolf and Alabaster escaping still set me on edge when I thought about it. I doubt either would notice me in my civilian identity but I’d rather they be behind bars entirely. Victor remaining in custody didn’t help ease my brain at all. There was the nagging feeling that his escape was a matter of when not if. 

Shaking my head helped clear my negative thoughts. Yesterday’s session with Dr. Kim was focused on ways to counter negativity, to move past the bad and look towards the good. None of the lessons had stuck in just a day, so just ignoring the negativity was still my best option.

Mel and I had decided to sit on the swings. Neither one could move much from all the rust clinging to the metal chains. Each movement elicited a gross sounding squeak. After trying to swing and being met with metal grinding against metal, neither of us dared to move much more than a gentle sway. 

It wouldn’t be hard to fashion up a rust removal chemical that replicated with rust. The starter I had used for my healing paste was still tucked away in the boxes at my lab. Singling it out would have brought too much attention to it, so I’d let it be taken away with the rest of my hoard. 

Beyond removing the rust, we could tighten some of the bolts to make this place a little more functional. Maybe Mel wouldn’t question it so much if I told her I just liked repairing things. 

Could I risk it? 

A horrible metal against metal squeak pierced my ears as Mel shifted her weight. 

“Sorry.” She winced. “Didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s okay. I might be able to fix it.” I pulled the wrench out of one of my many pockets before climbing up onto the seat of the swing to tighten the bolts near the top. 

“You carry a wrench with you?” 

My face flushed with heat. I was hoping she wouldn’t consider it odd. “I like to be prepared. I also have a box cutter, pliers, and a multi-tool for the rest. Oh, also some tape.” 

“Wow, you really are prepared. I feel underdressed now.” 

I smiled down at her. “If I’m around you can always use my tools, I don’t mind.” 

Mel’s grin brightened further, she raised her eyebrows in a way I didn’t understand. “Despite what most people might think, I don’t know shit about mechanical stuff.” 

I hopped down onto the padded playground floor to test the swing. There was still a grinding noise of the rusty chains dragging across each other, but the squeaking had stopped. 

“I could teach you, if… you teach me some kickboxing?” 

Mel stood up, she towered over me by about a head. Her build was quite stocky, making her loom wide as well as tall. There was a comfort in being around someone bigger than you. She stretched out a hand for me to shake. Her grip was firm. 

“You got yourself a deal, Meadow. How about we start right now?” 

“Fuck yeah!” 

Mel took me through some basics, mostly how to kick. My fighting practice had covered the idea of kicking safely but hadn’t taught me much else. Punching, blocking, grappling, and how to counter all three, were the focus of Heather’s lessons. Kicking didn’t come up much. 

It left me off-balanced without much reach in my legs to compensate for the downside. Mel noticed pretty quickly and moved me towards stances instead. They were less flashy than kicking but ‘a good base will make everything more effective’, according to Mel. Heather had told me something similar. 

Limb enhancers would improve my kicking as well as my reach. I had thought of them in the past but had never bothered due to giving Coco (rest in peace) a piston mechanic. Now they seemed like the next thing I should prioritise. 

Mel took our training with a level of seriousness I’d expect from Vista. She wasn’t shy to correct mistakes. Despite it being blunt, I liked the straight-forward direction more than someone trying to be nice about it. 

After teaching me the basics we did some mock spars using only the moves she’d shown me. Even holding back the blows, it helped to have a target to hit. 

I found my eyes drifting to her arms as she went through the motions. She had a knight’s build, like Glory Girl. Her makeup ended up running a little from the sweat. It made her look a little wilder, a little more feral. I guessed I probably looked the same. Heather often joked that my hair made me look like a wild girl, and exercise would only enhance that look.

We ended up training for over an hour due to losing track of time. Both of us sat on the stairs to the jungle gym to catch our breaths. Mel sat on the top step, while I sat on the bottom step. Her big, stompy boots rested by my head on the step above me. 

My many-pocketed backpack held delicious juice boxes to help cool us down after our exercise.

“You have a surprising amount of muscle definition in your arms,” Mel commented. “You said you’ve been training for a month, right?” 

Now that she mentioned it, I noticed the slight muscle on my arms. My muscle-enhancement protein must be working well. 

“Yep. Though I have also been exercising outside of it. My mom likes fitness–used to be a soldier–so she’s got me eating more and doing daily runs, lifting weights, and stuff.”

“Makes sense.” Mel wiped down her forehead with the back of her hand. She was barely sweating, unlike myself. Maybe I should make something to combat sweat? Then I’d also need to make something to combat overheating. 

The taller girl stretched her arms up high over head with a satisfied grunt. She leapt down from the stairs then offered me a hand to help me up. I pulled myself up with her help, then stretched as well. 

After I finished, I found her hazel eyes boring into my own as she stared at me with a soft smile. 

Eye contact felt weird, I’d never been a fan of it. This time, it felt weirder. My heart squeezed for an unknown reason as she continued to stare at me. I couldn’t take it anymore and looked away. 

Breaking eye contact was considered rude, people–for whatever reason–liked it. I didn’t hate it, I just felt uncomfortable doing it too long. 

Mel touched her fingers against my left hand. A moment later she slid the rest of her hand across mine to hold my hand completely. Her hand was rough and her grip was firm. I glanced up at her to find her staring away from me with beet red cheeks. 

“We should get going. Sunset’s soon,” she said, almost a mutter. 

“Okay.” I smiled at her. We walked away from the rusty park, hand-in-hand, as the sun began to dip behind the buildings. I wasn’t sure why she wanted to hold my hand, maybe she was scared? 

Either way, there was a comfort I enjoyed from her firm grip. Even with the sweat, I didn’t mind it.

Chapter Text

Last night's patrol ended up going longer than we had intended. 

Mouse Protector and I had followed some gang members back through their supply chain, leading us right to the building they were distributing from. The fight had been a chaotic mess but we’d managed to arrest over twenty people, while also shutting down a major supply of drugs to the surrounding area.  

I was glad to be patrolling with her again, especially outside of the high stress week of dealing with bombs. I was also proud of what I’d accomplished that night. I wasn't proud the next morning after having to peel myself out of bed with sore muscles. 

Habits are made by doing something over and over and over again. Dragging myself to school after a long night of patrolling took all the effort in the universe, but it was important to keep doing it until it was second nature. Even with my protesting muscles, I couldn’t give up.

Getting to see Mel again helped motivate me a little. 

I’d told Mouse Protector about my time spent with Mel. According to her, the hand-holding might mean she’s interested in me romantically. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Sharing details of my personal life with Mouse Protector could have been considered a breach of my secret identity. I trusted her, though. We’d been through a lot together in such a short timeframe. A friendship born through the blood of others. 

School did little to distract the itching I had to get back out on patrol, to be back out there with Mouse Protector like last night. Unfortunately, there were no patrols scheduled for the next few days. 

At least I could still go to my lab to tinker, even if school stopped me from using the ideas currently swirling in my head. Rule number 3: No tinkering at school. 

School was for learning, and I also needed to apologise to Taffy and Abi. Both of the girls were present, though neither looked at me as I entered our classroom. Taffy was her usual spaced out self and Abi deliberately looked away when she noticed me walk in.

I stopped by Taffy first. 

“Hey, Taffy.” 

She blinked at me. “Hello,” she said, sounding half-asleep. 

I knew she could talk from overhearing her talk with Mrs. Wilkins, but it still caught me off guard when she did.

“I wanted to say sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have hit her and I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

Taffy shook her head, causing her glossy hair to shimmer in the light. “I don’t like violence, I prefer talking. Isabelle and Annie never listened to me, though. She didn’t bully me today. Thank you.” Taffy gave me a gentle smile. 

“I’m glad she stopped. Still, that doesn’t mean I should have done it. Did you never tell the teachers about the bullying?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?”

“I didn’t know it was an option.” 

On the wall in front of us was a large anti-bullying poster. “What about that poster?” 

“What poster?” Taffy looked to where I was pointing. “Oh, I never noticed.”

No one even knew she was being bullied. How did no one say anything? Even if she didn’t know you could tell people, why didn’t Abi tell someone? 

“Well, sorry again. Let me know if she starts bullying you again. I won’t hit her, I’ll tell someone.” 

Taffy nodded before returning to her daydreams. 

Abi had her head turned to pretend to stare out the window, but her reflection showed she was looking at me. As I approached she flicked her gaze to the grass outside. 

“Go away,” she said before I could speak. 

“I wanted to apologise.” 

“Wait, really?” Abi whipped her head around to look at me. It caught me off-guard and made me jump a little. 

“Yeah. What I did was wrong, I shouldn’t have hit her.” 

“Oh… this isn’t what I expected.” She furrowed her brow. “I thought you’d be all, ‘I’m not sorry I punched her, she deserved it, stop being annoyed at me, Abi.’” She had made her voice gravelly like an action movie star.. 

“That’s not what I sound like. I am sorry, though, for scaring you. I just wanted to help but it was the wrong way to do it. I promise not to hit anyone unless they’re trying to hit me.” 

Abi hummed for about three seconds with a sceptical look on her face. “Good enough!” I shook her offered hand. “Consider us golden, Meadow. Ooh, a golden meadow sounds fun. Wonder how much money that’d be.” 

“Probably a lot, gold is expensive.”

“We could be millionaires! Think of all the candy we could buy! What would you buy?” 

“Uh... I don’t know.” 

“C’mon, there’s gotta be something! A boat? A house? A tiger?!” 

“Maybe a sword?” Like Mouse Protector, though not for use. The PRT would never approve of me using a sword. Getting them to approve Dede’s spearhead took me promising to only ever use it against the environment or Brutes who could stand it. 

“A sword? Are you into swords?” 

“I like medieval stuff. Knights, dragons, monsters, and weapons.” 

“You’re a fantasy nerd! I did not see that coming. I had you all wrong, Meadow. Thought you were a fitness jock who liked punching people, like Mel.” 

“I don’t like punching people.” 

“I know that now, but you gotta admit that you certainly came off that way. You barely paid attention in class until Mel came over, then you punched someone when we were going to lunch!” Abi moved her hands around a lot when she spoke, even miming a punch as she said the word. 

“She was just trying to help me with my schoolwork. We only really spoke about makeup and English.” 

“Makeup? Oh, was that why it smelt like nail polish?” 

I nodded. 

“Interesting.” Abi stroked her chin. “Real interesting…” 

“Um… okay. Sorry again, about yesterday.” 

I turned away to sit in my chair. It was right next to her, so it wasn’t like I was going far. Abi kept stroking her chin as she turned to stare out the window. I forgot to ask her about talking to a grown-up about the bullying. 

Mel entered the classroom with a deep scowl on her face. Her expression swapped instantly to a smile the moment she laid eyes on me. My heart fluttered a little as our eyes met. 

She pulled the desk to my right closer to my own before sitting down.

“Hey,” she said as she retrieved her school things from her backpack. 

Abi slammed her hands onto my desk. Both of us jumped at her sudden arrival. 

“Hey! Did you know Meadow likes fantasy stuff? And did you do her makeup yesterday?” 

“Jesus fuck, Abi! Don’t do that.” 

Abi just continued to smile at us. 

“No, I didn’t know. Yes, I did paint her nails,” Mel said after catching her breath.  

“Learn something new everyday, huh?” Abi leant closer in, shoving aside my pencils as she shifted her hands. “Every. Single. Day.” 

“Why’re you being so weird?” Mel asked.

“Do you two wanna join my Raccoon Knight fanclub?” 

My stomach dropped. Did she know? 

“Who’s Raccoon Knight?” Mel asked. She’d never heard of me? It was for the best, but my ego took a small hit.

“Only the bestest, greatest, amazingest hero in existence! We’ve got fifteen members now! Still only two people are coming to the in person fanclub, though. Well, three if you count me. You two could make it five!” Abi rambled on.

The tension in my muscles released as I realised she didn’t know it was me. This was all just a weird coincidence, right? 

“Why would I join a fanclub of someone I’ve never heard of?” 

“Because she’s awesome? We’ve had so many new sightings recently. Raccoon Knight has played a vital role in rescuing people from the recent bombings! There’s so much new footage!” 

“Good for you. I’m not interested in joining.” 

“Aw, c’mon… It’ll be fun, I promise. Maybe I need to sell you on RK? That’s what we call her back at the club, short for Raccoon Knight.” 

“I got it.” 

“Cool! Anyway, just this week we’ve had recordings of her pulling people out of burning buildings,” 

Suffocating smoke fills my lungs even through the filter. A family’s home, gone, burnt too fast for us to respond. Charred corpses burned from the inside out to cause chaos to feed the ego of a mad bomber. 

“Fighting the ABB,” 

I wince as the gunshot goes off right next to me. Even through my hearing protection it’s still so loud. Wards aren’t supposed to be around guns. A time of crisis made us push ourselves beyond our limits. 

“Rescuing people in the mall,” 

Triumph takes one look in the store before turning back to stop me from seeing. He tells me I’m better off not going in, pushing me away. I can still hear the wailing coming from inside as I leave.

“Dealing with a robbery,” 

Brains splattered against the cigarette packets just to steal less than fifty dollars from the cash register. A scene I wasn’t supposed to see. We kept getting caught off-guard, we were spread so thin. The cashier had called it in–we thought he’d be fine–but they must have come back. 

“Pulling someone from the rubble of a building,” 

A child cried out, a muffled sound from beneath the rubble. A PRT thinker guided me through the delicate process of using Aiai to remove the rubble without crushing the girl. Tense minutes pass as her cries begin to fade from exhaustion or blood loss, we weren’t sure which. 

“And just all around being awesome!” Abi finishes. 

My heart beat reaches my ear, fading sounds with its thumping. Lungs atrophied, unable to breathe from the sickening smoke. I gasp for air, unable to even get a little. The world blurs around me. Oxygen fails to reach my lungs. 

A muffled conversation continues in the background as I begin to die. 

This is it. Dying on my fourth day of school. Good work, Meadow. 

A delicate hand rubs my back. 

“Meadow, dear, you’re having an anxiety attack, okay?” A voice cuts through the fog, Mrs. Wilkins. “I need you to do a few things for me. First, focus on your breathing. Deep breath in, deep breath out.” 

I try to follow her instructions but I can’t breathe at all. I shake my head. 

“It’s alright, you’re okay. Just keep trying. Next, list the things you can hear.” 

I can hear… my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The endless explosions and sirens ringing in the distance. The wailing of people unseen. 

Breathe in. 

I can hear… Mel, saying my name. Her hand is clasped over my own. I can hear the birds outside. I can hear the rustling of paper and the scrape of chairs. 

Breathe out.

“Good, you’re doing great.” How did she know? “Just focus on breathing. Now, tell me what you can feel.” 

Deep breath in.

I could feel… Mrs. Wilkins' hand on my back, rubbing gentle circles. Mel’s rough hands placed over my right. The grain on the wooden desk beneath my fingers. The clothes on my skin, deliberately chosen to be smooth or soft and not scratchy. 

Deep breath out.

“See, you’re doing okay. It’s all alright.” 

My heartbeat slowed, leaving my ears as it did. Mrs. Wilkins’ hand continued to soothe me, Mel’s grip continued to ground me. I realised I had been squeezing her hand tight. 

I let go, blood trickled from where my nails had dug into her skin. “Shit, sorry.” My voice was shaky. I wiped at my wet cheeks with my sleeve. 

Mel shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m– No, I’m– I don’t know.” 

“It’s okay, dear. Take your time. Do you want me to call your mom?” Mrs. Wilkins leant down to be eye level with me, her hand still rubbing my back. 

I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be alright.” 

Mrs. Wilkins furrowed her brow. “Would you like to go home? Or maybe just go outside for a bit?” 

“Y-yeah... I wanna go home. I live close, I don’t need you to call anyone.” 

“I’ll need to call your mom before you leave.” 

I opened my mouth to protest but she left before I could. Mel stayed with me, squeezing my hand occasionally. 

Mrs. Wilkins returned a few minutes later to inform me Heather knew of the situation, and was okay with me going home.

“I’ll go with her. If that’s okay,” Mel said. 

Mrs. Wilkins nodded slowly. “I think that’d be for the best.” She stood upright. “Be careful on your way out.” 

Mel packed up my things into my backpack before grabbing her own. She slung both bags over her shoulders before taking my hand to guide me out of the room.

As we left I saw Abi mouth “I’m sorry,” to me. 

***

The cold wind stung my wet cheeks. Even my special packet of tissues couldn’t dry them well enough. At least the tissues were soft. 

Mel walked close to me, her shoulder occasionally gently bumping my own as we left the school. 

There were little to no clouds in the sky, a sunny day with a cold breeze. No plumes of smoke billowed in the sky, no sirens blared out every five minutes. Normal. 

“Is it a cape thing?” Mel spoke for the first time after leaving the school. 

“What?” 

“The panic attack, is it cape related? Abi started speaking about that, Animal Knight,” Animal Knight? That would have been a great multi-purpose name, “or whatever and you started… I just thought it might be cape related,” she continued without pause. 

In a way, it was. Whatever happened to me back there, it was clear that it was because of the things I’d seen as Raccoon Knight. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

We returned to our silent walk. Thoughts were bursting in the back of my mind, at the same time I was thinking of nothing at all. 

“My uncle was killed by a cape,” Mel said. “What I mean… is that I get it. I get what you’re going through. You can tell me if you want to, but you don’t need to. I’m here for you either way.” 

“I’m sorry about your uncle. I don’t–I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it.” 

“That’s okay, take your time, and if that time never comes, that’s okay too. I just want to be here for you.” Mel laced her fingers through my own. I pulled away. 

Her face flashed with hurt before she steeled her expression. 

“Sorry, I’m just confused.”

“Confused?” She scowled. 

“I spoke to an adult friend I have, she said you might be interested in me romantically, is that true?” 

Mel’s face was unreadable. She looked to the ground before nodding. 

“Yes. I know it might seem out of the blue. I’m just not good at any of this… social stuff. My brain only experiences things in extremes. Every single emotion is either one-hundred percent or nothing. I really like you, Meadow. Like like you.” 

“I like being around you, even if it’s only been a few days,” I admitted. “You make me feel better and it’s nice just being able to have fun with you. You’re probably my first real friend since I was really young.” I smiled at her then sighed. “Everything is just too much right now. I’ve never even thought about romantic stuff. I don’t even know what it means or how you know you like someone romantically. I’m sorry. What do we do here?” 

“We don’t need to do anything. You’re not even thinking about romance and that’s fine. I would like it if you did think it over at some point, but me being your friend isn’t reliant on you returning my feelings. Just friends is fine for me. I still want to get to know you, to learn things about you, to do stuff with you. And I want to be there when you’re like–when that thing happened in school.” 

Mel stopped before cupping her face in her hands.

“Fuck…” She groaned into her hands. “I’m so shitty. I brought this all up and you’ve just had a panic attack.” Mel let go of her face to rub her arms, making her look more shy than I’d ever seen her. 

This conversation had managed to drift my brain away from the classroom. My nerves still felt coiled up but my brain had been thoroughly distracted by all of this. 

I started chuckling. How could I not? It was all so stupid. All of it spilled out of me in a bitter laugh that just kept going, eventually turning into full blown laughter. It made me feel better. 

Mel stared at me with a concerned look on her face. 

“I’m okay.” I said after I calmed down, small chuckles still escaping from me. “I just realised how absurd all of it is. I go from one panic to the next, using the next one along to forget the last one. Even when I’m in a safe place, like school, I start panicking from the lack of distractions. The worst part is that I never told anyone I was like this, not even myself.”

“Knowing is half the battle,” Mel said. 

“What does that mean?” 

Was this a battle? Out there had been a battle. I’d framed school like a battle to help me get through it. Was I still fighting when I shouldn’t be? 

“My dad used to be an alcoholic,” Mel rubbed her arms like she was cold. “He didn’t know it was a problem until he started getting some awful pain in his face. Then, once he knew, he realised he could get help for it. I didn’t know it was a problem either. Looking back, it was kind of obvious, and I’m glad he’s out of it. What I mean, is that you know now, so you can get help for it. Start working through it.” 

She met my eyes. Her face looked sad. “I don’t know the first thing about any of this. You can tell me what’s going on if you want to, but you don’t need to.” She stepped towards me. “All I know is that I want to be there for my friend.” 

I reached out to take her hand in my own. “Thank you,” I said. Words couldn’t convey how grateful I was to her. 

Mel was right. Knowing is half the battle. Dr. Kim couldn’t help me if she didn’t know what I was going through. I couldn’t tell her if I didn’t realise it myself.

She’d been teaching me something called cognitive behavioural therapy since punching Isabelle. Viewing everything through a negative lens makes everything around you feel more negative. Human brains were dumb like that. 

Instead of focusing on the people I didn’t save, or couldn’t save, I should focus on the people I did. They were alive because of me. I should think about the fights I stopped rather than the ones I failed to get to in time. It all felt too simple to work. I kept at it anyway. 

Negative thoughts were sticky thoughts. Like Mouse Protector told me, they needed to be slippy thoughts. Let the negative go and focus on the positive. Human brains are just too good at focusing on negative things; we’re not really designed to have so much of it at once. 

At first I thought it might just be ignoring my problems if I didn’t focus on the negatives. I wasn’t pushing it aside, I was just framing it amongst the good I’d done. 

Ignoring the bad with more bad turned out to be a therapy no-no. 

Leaping from one situation to the next did not make the old situation go away. From now on, I need to talk it through with someone or at least something. She recommended I start a journal to catalogue my thoughts. After just a couple of days I realised the power of it. 

Having words out of my brain and onto paper made them feel more real. It helped me process things, and remember stuff to talk about later. Since she was such a big help, I decided to dub my new journal, Lili, the Secret Keeper. It was also fun putting stickers on her cover.

Not telling your therapist what was happening in your life because you didn’t want to think about it, was also a therapy no-no. She wanted me to feel better, to be in a better space, and she couldn’t do that if I didn’t tell her the thoughts that I avoided.

Knowing was half the battle. 

Thinking about the bad things I’d seen still hurt, but that was what therapy was for. Dr. Kim listened to me sob my way through a retelling of the entire bomb filled week. Talking felt pointless in my mind, I never thought it would actually work. Turns out, just having someone to listen to my worries helped a lot. 

I was also taught methods to alleviate anxiety. Most of the methods might not even work for me, I had to figure out what worked best for me, or even develop my own special method.

We also spoke on how to notice anxiety or panic attacks. Working my way through them on my own would still be scary, apparently, but even noticing they were happening could help. 

She even helped me think about romantic feelings. Going from talking about bombs to holding hands felt a bit jarring. Maybe that was just the life I was destined for. 

Dr. Kim explained that there’s a lot of different types of attraction. Too many to list. 

After listening to me talk about Mel for a long time, she believed I was attracted to her in a non-platonic way, but she also said she couldn’t tell me how I felt, that was for me to figure out and for her to help me figure out. Ultimately, it was up to me to sort through the tangled wires that were my feelings. At least Dr. Kim could point out the best ways to do that. 

If the feelings I felt around Mel were attraction, that meant I was also attracted to Victoria and Carlos. When I thought about them, I didn’t think about holding hands with them, though. I didn’t think about much at all, just that they looked good and made my stomach feel weird. 

When I thought about Mel, I thought about spending time with her while holding her hand. Maybe it was just because she’d initiated with that? I wasn’t sure. 

People romantically involved liked to kiss. Kissing felt weird to me, I didn’t want to do that. Heather kissed me on the head sometimes, which I didn’t mind. The idea of Mel kissing me on the head made my face heat up. 

People are complex. Our emotions, feelings, likes and dislikes, were equally complex. Someone could be comfortable with one thing but then be uncomfortable with that same thing in a different situation. 

Figuring it all out was a lot. How did anyone ever do this? 

One step at a time, according to Dr. Kim. 

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she had said. 

Building my Tinker devices usually took less than a day. Most of them could be done in less than an hour. Maybe that had spoiled my world view. I wasn’t better instantly, so why bother? 

Learning to separate a power-based achievement and a human-based achievement took some doing. 

Mom had suggested a hobby that didn’t fit in with my power, something that was purely me. There was a lot of stuff out there. Humans found a lot of interesting ways to fill their time. 

My own personal choice was a pottery class. Something about making things out of clay sounded interesting. It was a way to be creative that didn’t use my power’s granted knowledge. 

Mom joined me at the class, a way to connect with me and to give herself a break as well. 

Mother daughter bonding. I hadn’t really realised when I’d started thinking of Heather as my mom, but she was. 

Moulding clay was messy work. I loved messy work. The best part was that I had no natural talent for it at all . My first few cups turned out awfully. I was so happy. Misshapen, missized, and misaligned. All of them were my best work. 

Mom had a steadier hand and managed to make some things that at least closely resembled what they were supposed to be. 

Neither of us were excelling, but we didn’t care. 

Back at school, I apologised again to Abi. I explained that it wasn’t her fault, that I had some cape related stuff happen to me and didn’t like thinking about them. She took it in stride. Then she’d started talking with me more, she even started inviting me to hang out outside of school with her and Taffy. 

In a few short days we’d become actual friends. She knew stuff about me and I knew stuff about her, more than I’d ever known about any of the Wards. Taffy only showed up once, often telling us the next day she forgot. I felt bad about it, I wanted to get to know her too. 

I learned that Abi did not like Mel after asking if I could bring her along. She thought she was a ‘fitness jock’ like she’d thought I was. Mel also didn’t like Abi rambling, which was mostly what Abi did. 

I’d never really had friends, not since I’d left school when I was seven, meaning I was ill equipped to handle the situation. I wanted to hang out with both of them, not one at a time. 

The internet recommended I find a common interest between them. 

After some prodding I found they both liked a TV show about some detective who time travelled through history to solve crimes. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best starting place. However, it did get them talking. 

Once they spoke, Abi realised Mel wasn’t just a ‘fitness jock’ and Mel realised that she didn’t mind Abi’s rambling so much if she understood what she was talking about.

They still had a few moments of tense air. It was better than before, at least. 

Then, my birthday arrived. It was on May third, according to the government. With the process of moving me to a foster parent, the PRT had uncovered all of my legal files, like my birth certificate.

I personally hadn’t even remembered what day it was on.

In the cartoons, people celebrated birthdays with a party. Usually that party had cake, decorations, and presents. It felt alien when I first saw it. Seeing it in person didn’t make it less alien, just more real. 

Mom had suggested a sleepover with my new friends. She assured me it was a classic bonding experience. 

She’d even let us order takeout, a thing I’d never done before. After a few long missions the Wards had ordered pizza. I’d always headed home to eat instead. Pizza was a cold gloopy mess with cardboard tasting bread holding it together. 

Mel and Abi agreed to sleeping over. Taffy said her mom was ‘overprotective’ and wouldn’t let her sleep over at someone else’s house. I had been hoping she’d come. It just meant that in the future I’d need to put in extra effort to hang out with her. 

Both of the girls arrived with gifts. Gifts were a birthday tradition, apparently. I wasn’t sure why, though it was hard to argue with people giving me things. I’d need to shop around to get them both something later on. 

Abi gave me a pin shaped like a sword. I pinned it to my backpack. Even with just a single pin, my backpack looked better. Maybe I should get more? 

She also got me a roll of stickers that looked like fantasy things, such as dragons, fairies, and knights. I thanked her with a hug. People liked hugs. 

Mel gifted me a voucher for a kickboxing lesson, and promised to take me out to see a movie sometime. She said she felt bad about her gift but I thought it was wonderful. I hugged her too. 

There were a lot of different birthday traditions. Abi’s family celebrated by going bowling. Mel’s family usually just gave cards and moved on. 

Mom told me that when she was young, whoever's birthday it was was considered ‘ruler’ for the day. They decided what to watch on TV, what the temperature of the house was set to, and where they went that day. She’d never spoken much about her family. I knew she had two brothers but I didn’t even know their names. 

I decided I’d ask her more about them in the future. 

Cake definitely tasted better when it hadn’t been squished under mounds of trash. There were flavours to it that I hadn’t noticed before through all the usual dumpster gunk.

Eventually, I showed the girls to my room so they could put their bags somewhere out of the way. 

I had spent the morning cleaning up anything that linked me to Raccoon Knight, both to keep my secret identity and to let me distance myself from it. Tonight, I’m Meadow Fields, a normal highschool girl with normal friends. 

“Wow, that's a lot of plushies!” Abi half-yelled as she saw my room. 

She was right. Along my bed and against it, across my shelves, on top of my dresser, and various parts of my floor, were tons and tons of plushies. They came in all different shapes and sizes and were where most of my Wards allowance had gone to. Rabbits, bears, frogs, snakes, cartoon characters, you name it, I had it. 

Mel squeezed a hand on my shoulder, “Cute.” 

My face flushed with heat. “Thanks. I like clutter. I’ve made a space for you two on the floor, we have sleeping bags ready, or you can use an inflatable mattress, up to you.” 

“Bags good for me,” Mel said.

“Me too!” Abi flopped down onto my bed. “Holy shoot, this is a good bed.”

Mel patted a hand against my bed before sitting on it. She bounced a little before nodding. “Damn, how do you ever get up in the morning?” 

“Oh! I’m hungry! You said we could order something, right?” Abi bolted up from the bed in an instant. 

“Yeah, we can order whatever. I, um, I’ve never ordered food before, so you guys can pick.” 

“Pizza!” Abi yelled.

“You’ve never ordered food?” Mel asked at the same time. I shook my head. “Pizza sounds good,” she continued. 

Abi began to chant pizza over and over again.

“I don’t really like pizza,” I interrupted her chanting.  

“What?!” Abi yelled. 

“It’s just goopy, and cold, and tastes like cardboard.” 

“What kind of pizza have you been eating? Pizza is hot, delicious, yummy, scrumptious, goodness. Cardboard dough means you got bad pizza. Cheese is goopy though, that’s fair.” 

“We can get something else,” Mel offered. 

“I.. I’d like to try pizza. I only ever ate it when–” I stopped myself. Would they judge me for digging through trash? People didn’t like it. A social stigma, Carlos had called it. 

“Pizza!” Abi yelled, unaware of my thoughts. 

Mel stood up from my bed and placed a hand on my arm. “Are you sure? We can get something else.” 

I shook my head. “I’m sure. Pizza.” I smiled at her. 

She looked unsure for a moment before smiling back. “Pizza it is.” 

“Pizza!” Abi yelled again. 

Taking my first bite took a surprising amount of nerves. It was just food, something I ate all the time. There were a rare few foods I didn’t like. The last time I ate pizza it wasn’t that great and left me feeling ill for a few days, so I had put it on my ‘no eating’ list alongside fish. Fish from dumpsters never tasted right. 

Even a single bite in I could tell I was wrong. Pizza was amazing. 

Abi stared at me expectantly. I gulped down my first bite and gave her a thumbs up. 

She whooped and cheered as if she’d won something. 

“Abi wins again! Pizza wins again!” The energetic girl cackled madly before shoving another slice into her mouth. 

We ate our pizza in between conversations about nothing in particular. My heart warmed at just spending time with friends. 

Maybe I’ll be okay. 

Chapter Text

Vista approached me in the locker room as I was running a comb through my wet hair. She shifted back and forth on her feet with an unsure look on her face. 

She had been preparing to go out for patrol, currently in full costume besides the mask. Her eyes kept flickering to me then back to the floor. Usually, Vista straightened her hair before going out on patrol, it was unusual seeing her hair still wavy while she was in costume. We didn’t align much on patrols anymore despite how many extra shifts Vista took, so I didn’t get to see her much at all.

“Hey, Vista,” I said, hoping to free her from her silence. 

“Hi…” 

“Hello.” 

I ran the comb through my hair in a smooth, gentle motion to avoid pulling on the knots. Vista’s eyes drifted along with the strokes of the comb. 

“I wanted to… apologise,” she finally said. 

“Apologise?” 

“For freaking out. About the bird.” 

“Oh. It’s okay, it was forever ago.” 

“It was wrong of me. I’m sorry.” 

“Apology accepted. I shouldn’t have tried to give you a gift without asking.” 

“That wasn’t–nevermind. I liked the necklace, at least.” 

“Good, I’m glad. I made it myself. I didn’t really get to tell you that.” 

“Cool.” 

“Yeah.” 

Vista shifted on her feet and squinted her eyes at nothing. She took a deep breath before continuing. “What’d you do with it? The bird, I mean.” 

“Oh, I… I don’t know. My mom must have let it go or something.” 

“Heather had it?” 

“Probably.” I shrugged, the motion caused my comb to catch in my hair. “Ow. Why?” I gently eased the knot away before continuing. 

“Just curious,” she said. Vista tapped her foot for a few seconds before yawning. “I better go get some coffee. See you, Meadow.” 

“Bye…” I looked up to find her gone already. “In a hurry, I guess.” I shrugged to no one. Coffee didn’t make sense to me, especially when she was about to go out on patrol. Bitter, brown juice that only makes your heart rate rise while not even giving you energy. I had drunk it a few times before, each time it just made me sleepier while also making my heart feel like a hummingbird had nested in my chest. She was gonna pass out on patrol if she drank as much as I usually saw her drink.

After I finished combing my hair, I left the locker room. Shadow Stalker stomped by me without saying a word as I exited. I jogged a little to catch up to her long legs.

“Hey, Sophia.” 

“What?” Her tone was curt, clearly in a hurry, like Vista. She snapped her head towards me. The impassive face on her mask made it easier to look into her eyes. 

“I made something for you.” 

“What?” This time she sounded more confused than annoyed. I was getting a lot better at identifying tones in voices.

“A Tinker thing. Wanted to help you punch bad guys better, and to fly around more.” 

“I don’t need help.” She turned to leave before turning back to me. “What is it?” 

“Two things.” I held up two fingers. “One, is an exoskeleton of sorts, super lightweight so it won’t bother you too much. Each joint comes installed with a ‘breather’ that’ll puff out air based on certain movements.” 

I watched a documentary about mushrooms. Seeing them shoot out spores in big fluffy clouds made me think about Dede’s air blast head except all over your body. Most people couldn’t be shoved around by puffs of air, Shadow Stalker could. 

“In your mist form, it should let you move about better, maybe even fly when you get the hang of it,” I continued without pause. The whole skeleton was some of my most complicated work, aside from Aiai. It had come together a lot easier than Aiai did, without me needing to do too many tests. 

“Fly?”

“Maybe. Don’t want to hype you up too much, but I think it’s possible.” 

Shadow Stalker hummed. “Go on.” 

“It breathes in air around you, so you won’t need to recharge it. The lung system can be sort of broken easily which is why it’s housed in a secure container. That container is the majority of the bulk of it. We could install it on your lower back to stop it being too weighty.” 

“Take me to it. Tell me about that other thing on the way.” 

“Sure!” I half-hopped down the corridor before managing to walk normally. “My lab isn’t too far away. I was reading your file–” 

“You were reading my file?” I flinched a little at her stern tone directed to the back of my head. 

“Sorry. I just wanted to know about your power better.” 

“Then talk to me about it. Don’t sneak around.” 

“Well, I would have, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up if I messed it up. I also wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“I don’t like surprises.” 

“Oh… got it. No surprises from now on,” I promised. 

“Good. Carry on.” 

“Piston gauntlets! Just punch like you normally do and they’ll extend, making you hit like a really big car!” 

“A truck?”

“Sure. The best part is you can use both of the gauntlets and the puffball blasts together to deliver high-speed punches from your mist form. You might even be able to hurt someone like Lung.” 

We arrived at my lab as I finished explaining. The automatic doors whooshed open. Originally they opened silently but it meant I never noticed when people entered if I wasn’t paying attention. So, I modified them to whoosh. Armsmaster had not been happy. 

I gestured to a mannequin with a thin metal framework connected to the back of its body and limbs. Each joint had a strap to keep the puffball shooters in place. Attached to the hands were black gloves with half-spheres on the knuckles. I’d spray painted a subtle dark purple smoke effect that ran up the gloves. 

Shadow Stalker approached the dummy, her expression unknown beneath the mask. She ran a hand across the metal frames down to the elbow before peering around the back to see the small nozzle attached to the joint. She looked like she was counting each nozzle. They were all over the place, mostly to provide stability, but also to allow for complex moves. 

Then she ran a hand across the lunchbox sized container attached to the small of the back. 

“Bulky,” she commented. It was more of a whisper, so I assumed it was for herself and not for me. 

Shadow Stalker unclipped a gauntlet from the mannequin before attaching it to her own hand. 

“Got something I can punch?” 

I nodded, pressing a button to drop down a punching bag from the ceiling. Ms. Punchy hadn’t been used much by me as I preferred the Ward’s training room over hitting such a boring target. She also couldn’t take much aside from blunt force. 

In a smooth, practised motion, Shadow Stalker punched at the bag. The gauntlets extended out before snapping back in as she pulled her arm away, making a sound like miniature lightning. Ms. Punchy swung almost up to the ceiling from the force of the hit. 

Shadow Stalker held her fist up in front of her, her statue-faced mask turning to look at me. 

“These aren’t half bad, runt.”

I gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. She rolled her head away from me like she was rolling her eyes, but that didn’t make sense right now. Crink in her neck? 

Her body turned to wisps of dark smoke, her cloak began to move as if generating its own breeze. She made two quick jabs, swapping out of her shadow form just as they hit. Whatever she was testing for, she seemed pleased with the results.

“Lighter than I expected, barely slows me down.” 

“It’s made from the same alloy as my armour, sturdy but still light enough to move around in.”

Stern eyes glared into my own. Her mask really made it difficult to tell what she was thinking. Not that seeing her face would have helped me that much. 

I remembered my idea to put an LED display on my armour to mimic whatever my face was doing. If Shadow Stalker had that I imagine it’d look similar to her mask, a perpetual scowl. 

After a moment's silence she turned to look at the mannequin instead. 

“Is there a button?” Shadow Stalker asked me, running her hands over the torso of the mannequin. 

“A button?” 

“To unhook the latches,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“No. You just unhook them manually. They’re not too cumbersome, you can just put it on as part of your usual costume.” 

She shook her head, and muttered, “Armsmaster would have had a button.” 

Armsmaster preferred eye movements to activate things like this. He would have made a display of it: unclasping the armour without moving a muscle. Though he might have made a button so she could use it outside of his lab. I didn’t think it was worth debating her over it so I patiently waited as she unclasped the exoskeleton and began transferring it to her body. 

Equipping it all didn’t take too long–which could have been bad if it did, she seemed impatient–just shy of five minutes. From my tests you could get it all on in about three with enough practice of the straps. Shadow Stalker moved her limbs around to feel out the puffball launchers on her elbows and the back of her knees. 

Despite the awkward position, they didn’t stop her movement too much since they were small. There was also a little bit of squish to them due to the design. They were made from a collagen-based material that helped with the ‘blowing’ by being squishy. 

“How do I use these?” 

“The gloves you’re wearing for the piston gauntlet are a separate piece, you can hook up the end of that rod to the wrist part of the gauntlet,” I directed her by pointing to them as I spoke. She followed my instructions to hook them up. “Good. Now here’s–” I grabbed a sheet of paper with diagrams of hand signs drawn on them. My art wasn’t great, but it got the point across. “A diagram of the hand motions and what they activate. If you use something more than the rest I can reconfigure the motions to let you do it easier, I’ll just need a little bit to modify them.”

Shadow Stalker snatched the paper from me. Only subtle movements of her head told me she was even reading the sheet. 

After a minute she flexed her pinky and ring finger by themselves, a puff of air blew out from the back of both of her shoulders. She glanced over to see it as she did the motion again. 

She exhaled from her nose in what I assumed was a laugh. “Nice,” she said. After walking to the other side of the room, she shifted into her shadow state then activated the puffballs. Shadow Stalker glided across the room like she was on rollerblades. Before she hit the wall she flashed back to her normal human self, she teetered on her feet as she struggled to stop in time. 

“Gotta get used to that,” she said before turning to face me. “Good work, runt. I’m impressed.” 

My smile threatened to rip open my face, despite the insulting name. “You’re welcome. They shouldn’t need too much maintenance, just oil the joints mostly. Also keep the lung box in an open area while not using it. 

“What happens if I’m near smoke with it, if it’s like a lung?” 

“Don’t worry, there’s a filter for things like smoke. Just try not to stick around too long in smoke, it’s bad for that lung and your lungs.” 

Shadow Stalker rolled her shoulders. “I’m off to test these out.” After a moment she added, “Come with me. Might need you if this breaks.” 

We left my lab together. Sophia seemed like the type of person who could never admit she might need help. Based on the way she spoke, I picked up (hopefully) on the hidden meaning–she might need me to guide her through some of the motions. 

They weren’t complicated, but she was just learning them. 

For about thirty minutes she went through the different activation motions to get used to them. She was quick to point out what she didn’t like and never pointed out what she did. I walked her through some more maintenance tips, as well helping her understand my crude diagrams. Drawing blueprints didn’t come with my power; I’d have to practise my drawing at some point.

Before long, Shadow Stalker needed to go out on her patrol. Using the puffballs wasn’t second nature in such a short time, yet she said she’d field test them immediately. She was a confident person, even when out of costume, something I wish I could be. 

I wished her the best of luck and headed over to the cafeteria to grab some food before going home. Mom worked late on Thursdays, meaning she wouldn’t be around to make dinner if I went home right now. My own cooking skills left a lot to be desired. Forgetting you had things cooking was just way too easy. Burnt food didn’t taste good. 

Cold food still reigned as the queen of easy to manage food. You could slap whatever you wanted between slices of bread to make a good sandwich. Cooking just took too much time. Bread also tasted a lot better when you didn’t have to eat around the mouldy bits, and I was really enjoying it recently. 

One delectable (that means pleasing, according to my word of the day calendar) meal later, I was heading out of the PRT building. I made sure to thank the ladies that served the food before heading out.

Good food had a way of lifting my spirits, but today they didn’t even need to be raised. Sophia liked my gifts. I couldn’t help but grin wide as I half-bounced through the corridors. Rounding the last corridor before the back exit, I found myself face-to-face with a featureless sleek white mask. Clockblocker. 

“Out of my way,” he said. Vista’s apology reminded me that I never did apologise to Dennis. He’d been avoiding me since I had annoyed him, or whatever it was that made him upset at me. 

“Wait, can we talk?” 

His blank mask stared at me for a few seconds. Despite sucking at telling what expressions meant, seeing someone’s face helped a lot, especially in conversations like this. 

“You have thirty seconds.” 

“I’d like more, but okay. I wanted to say I’m sorry for upsetting you back then. I don’t like that it tore apart our friendship just like that.”

“We weren’t friends. Do you even understand what you did wrong?” 

That hurt. I had considered us friends, or at least at the start of a friendship. Based on my new friendships, I realised that I knew very little about the Wards. Abi had asked me a million questions about myself–of the most random of things. When I asked why, she said that friendship means knowing a person. 

“Maybe we weren’t friends, but I could have seen us becoming friends. And no, I still don’t understand it. I am still sorry for hurting your feelings, even if I don’t understand how.” 

“You’ve been out there. People are dying everyday. Just over a week ago we were running between a crisis a minute. You were mourning over a fucking toaster when real people are dying. When my d–” He cut himself off then took a deep breath. “You still don’t get it.” 

He stepped to the side to try to get around me, but I blocked his path. 

“Wait, please. I get it, I do. People are being hurt and we can only save so many. That doesn’t make Coco less important to me. You dismissed it like she didn’t matter at all, that hurt my feelings.” 

Dennis reached out to touch my shirt before stepping backwards. I tried to follow but found my shirt didn’t want to come along with me. He froze it? 

“It didn’t matter. You’re just some creepy girl who came here expecting us all to love you. I tried to be nice at first because I felt bad for you. Piggot said you came from a rough home and I thought I could make you feel more at ease. All those jokes? They were the same types of jokes I would make for my niece, because I thought you were eleven, not fourteen. Stop naming your stuff, it’s creepy. Stop obsessing over them like they’re people, they’re inanimate objects.” He folded his arms as he finished, glancing at the wristwatch built into his costume. 

Tears were already streaming down my face. This time, they weren’t tears of sadness, but tears of rage. I found myself getting angrier and angrier as I struggled against the unmovable object my shirt had become. 

“Fuck you, Dennis,” I spat the words. 

He rolled his head like he did when rolling his eyes. Easier to tell than when Shadow Stalker did it. 

“Real creative. Get that one out of the trash like your food?” 

“Let me out of this!” I wriggled against my constraints. “Why are you even still here?” 

“I’m waiting a minute to see if it wears off early. Then I’ll reapply it and leave.” 

“Fuck you.” He rolled his head again. “Take off your mask and talk to me face-to-face.” I needed to see his emotions, even if I sucked at understanding them.

He disengaged his face plate. His face didn’t look angry, more bored than anything. Maybe if I used Armsmaster’s scans of Gallant’s power I could make an emotion reader or something. 

I scowled at him. “Thank you. Now, tell me why this bothers you so much? You just say that people are getting hurt, but I know that, everyone knows that. That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy things, or get attached to ‘a fucking toaster’.” I tried to air quote as best as I could with my hands tethered by my shirt. 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to understand. Your brain is as big as your empathy.” 

That didn’t make sense. It still hurt.

“Face it Meadow, you’re too stupid to get it. I can’t teach you to act like a normal human being. People dying is way more important than losing your imaginary friends. Guess your dad beat the smarts out of you.” He shrugged before turning his eyes back to his watch.  

My blood ran cold. He knew about my dad? I slumped forward, no longer bound by my shirt. Dennis reached out to tap it again before I could react. He grinned at me. 

“Don’t feel too bad. When you die, people will mourn over you like a normal person would, instead of grieving for a stick they found outsi–” Dennis coughed and sputtered as a green spray hit him in the face. 

He toppled backwards, falling onto his butt, while frantically wiping at his eyes. My hands were shaking and the cap of my middle finger lay open. Shit. I hadn’t even meant to use it. 

Dennis splattered the pristine white floor with a blue-green bile, continuing to dry heave from the rancid smell of my stink spray. I was surprised he was even still conscious. He glared up at me, his eyes watering. 

“What… the…” He threw up again before getting to finish. I wrestled against the shirt. Still not strong enough to move time-locked things. 

“Your finger… what the fuck… did you do?” Dennis coughed out the words, pausing occasionally to dry heave. 

I used my thumb to close the open cap of my middle finger. “Nothing. I’m sorry. You didn’t see that, okay?” 

Dennis pulled himself up using the wall. “You’re in so much trouble,” he laughed, a cruel laugh. “Piggy’s gonna love this.” 

“Wait, Dennis, wait. Please, don’t tell Piggot.” 

He laughed before being interrupted by a retch. Dennis shook his head before pulling himself down the corridor with the help of the wall, ignoring my protests as he left. 

About three minutes later my shirt finally returned to normal and I slumped to my knees. I was going to be in so much trouble. Every person at the PRT is scared by the idea of biotinkering. They didn’t want me to go down that path at all, even if I wasn’t Bonesaw. 

Running away would be so easy, except, there were things tying me down now. Maybe a few months ago I could just up and leave, but now, I had friends, I had a family. 

Mom wasn’t going to be happy. We were just starting to understand each other, and now she’d likely abandon me, unable to even look into my eyes out of disgust. Abi would be upset that Raccoon Knight had been sent to the Birdcage. I’d never even get to process my feelings about Mel. 

I threw up. It was all too much and neither my body or brain couldn’t handle it. I pulled myself to my feet. There had to be some place I could sort through my thoughts. 

There was a janitor’s closet along the left wall, unlocked for some reason. Good enough. The cleaning supplies that cluttered the small space made for a good nest. There had to be some way to explain why I had modified my finger. I’d done it for good reasons, I just wasn’t sure they’d buy it.  

Maybe Dennis would change his mind and not tell Piggot. 

Maybe he’d stop being so mean to me. 

My mind raced with thoughts. I took a deep calming breath, mentally listing things around me to help distract my brain. 

Don’t panic, Meadow. Think it through.

***

I wasn’t sure how long I spent hiding away in the janitor’s closet. When I emerged, the sun had set entirely. Most of the PRT had gone home, leaving only the night staff. The receptionist glanced at me as I passed by but didn’t say anything to me, instead just returning to typing on his computer. 

Maybe no one even noticed I was gone. That’d be what I deserve. Or, she just didn’t recognise me without a costume. Shit. I had taken the foyer exit instead of using the secret Ward’s one. At least no one was around to notice me this late. I tried to not draw attention to myself.

Thick, black clouds covered the night sky completely, hiding the stars and moon from me. Without even my twinkling friends to keep me company, I trudged home. Mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway when I got back, so I called her up using the house phone. 

“Meadow?” Her voice sounded frantic even through the terrible phone speaker. 

“Hi, mom… sorry.” 

“I’m heading back now, stay there. Okay?” 

“Sure.” 

“I love you, sweetheart, don’t worry.” A car rumbled to life over the speaker before she hung up.

She loved me. That meant she didn’t know what happened. I sort of hoped she already knew, it would be easier than having to explain it myself. 

I hooked the phone onto the receiver before slumping down on the couch. It was eleven o’clock at night according to the clock on the wall. Learning to read the hands had taken a lot of work and I still sometimes messed it up. I had made up a little phrase to help me remember them: despite being alive for only seconds, the younger sister is bigger than her sister that’s been alive for minutes. Maybe not the best, but it was my first time making up a saying. 

Running fingers through my hair helped to untangle the knots from the wind and the knots in my heart. Certain motions helped calm my existence. Shaking my leg was one of them, to the displeasure of my classmates. Fingers through my hair was another, as well as tapping my fist against my thigh. None of them helped much right now, though. 

The front door’s lock clicked ten minutes later, signalling my mom’s arrival. I stood up to tell her that I was a monster. She didn’t even take the time to close the door before rushing over to hug me. I buckled a little at her weight before she fell to her knees. She squeezed me tight enough to hurt. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry,” she said. 

“Y-you’re–” My voice cracked a little as my emotions tried to escape. “You’re sorry?” Why was she sorry? I was the one who had sentenced myself to the worst prison in the world.

She nodded into my shoulder. “I don’t know why you did that to yourself, but I know I should have been there to stop it. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Oh. She knew already. Why didn’t she hate me? 

I hugged her back. “It’s not your fault.” It wasn’t her fault. We barely knew each other at the time. “Do you hate me?” 

“No, of course not! I don’t hate you. Just tell me, why did you do this to yourself, Meadow?” Mom pulled herself away, holding my shoulders in her hands.

My eyes found the comfort of the carpet. “I got scared by an enforcer chasing me after I met with Victoria. I thought if I had some self-defence on me I could avoid danger in the future while I didn’t have my Tinker stuff.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” She chewed at her lip like she did when she was thinking. “You would have only known me for less than two weeks at that point. You… didn’t feel like you could turn to me?” 

I shook my head, my hair spilling out over my face. She brushed a hand through to tuck it behind my ears. “I thought you’d be upset that I was digging through dumpsters.” 

She rested her forehead against mine. “Darling, I’m sorry you couldn’t turn to me back then. It’s gonna be okay.” 

Even more tears welled up in my eyes. She wasn’t disgusted by me? Have I gone bananas and I’m just imagining all of this? 

Mom pulled me into another tight hug, her hand petting the back of my head. It was like her squeeze forced all of the emotions out, causing the floodgates to open. I cried into her arms for what felt like hours. Even after my sobs were fading, I stayed there, enjoying the comfort of her embrace. By the time I pulled away, there was a large wet patch on her coat made by my snot and tears. 

I giggled a little through my fading sobs. “Sorry.” I wiped my nose with my hands just to find more snot. An infinite mucus tap. 

Mom smiled. “Don’t worry.” She pulled out a pack of tissues from the inside of her coat, offering me some to wipe down my face while wiping down her own face. “All the boogers in the world won’t stop me from being here for you.” 

I found myself laughing. “That’s so silly.” 

She laughed with me. When we stopped, she smiled a gentle smile. “We’ll need to talk to Piggot tomorrow. For now, let’s get ready for bed.” 

Piggot. I had almost forgotten that she knew. 

“Am I going to be sent to the Birdcage?” 

“Meadow, no. Of course not,” she squished my face in her hands. “Piggot isn’t mad, she’s worried. She feels like she failed you, that this could happen under her watch. You’re not going to the Birdcage for this.” I nodded my head stiffly in her grip.

She kissed me on the forehead before letting go. “Go shower, I’ll make us some food.” 

Before I could walk five steps she pulled me into another hug. “I love you, Meadow.” 

“I love you too.” 

Chapter Text

“Raccoon Knight, we have a lot to talk about. Sit down.” Piggot gestured to the seat across from her. 

I sat down, shifting a little until my armour didn’t bother me. Sitting in armour took extra effort than normal sitting. 

Piggot loomed behind the large wooden desk, her stern expression combined with her bleached blonde hair made me feel like I was facing off against a supervillain. All she needed now was a lizard on her lap to stroke. 

She wasn’t a supervillain, I reminded myself. My brain just made it feel that way since I was in trouble with her. Her command structure helped us be better heroes than we would be on our own. If I framed her as the villain then I’d be trying to fight and not to talk. 

“Miss Piggot. I’m sorry for what I did,” I started.

“Ma’am.” 

“Huh?” 

“You’ll address me as ma’am.” 

“Yes, miss ma’am.” 

“Just ma’am.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” Ma’am sighed. “Raccoon Knight, I feel you deserve full transparency from me. You have been failed by the system. You should have had more oversight, including someone to mentor you more closely than Armsmaster could ever manage. I have no viable excuses to offer you, Knight, but I don’t need to tell you how hectic Brockton Bay is. You were overlooked purely because of everything else.” Ma’am pinched her nose between her fingers. “We reviewed the camera footage to get an accurate summation of the events of last night. There was unfortunately no one around to play eye witness due to the fundraiser.” 

“Fundraiser?” 

“You should have received an email about it, including the reason you weren’t invited. Have you not been reading your emails?” 

“I read them when I see them appear.” 

Ma’am’s metal grey eyes stared deep into me despite me staring at her carpet. “Did anyone teach you how to use your computer?” 

“I was told how to turn it on, but Armsmaster had an emergency and said we’d do the rest later. Mom got me a laptop, though, so I’ve been learning using that.” 

“I’ll send someone from the tech team to teach you later on. Emails can arrive when you’re not around. In the future, be sure to check them whenever you arrive in the building. For a few weeks we’ll require you to respond to every email to show you’ve learnt. I’ll also make sure you receive texts alongside them, as a reminder.”

I knew they could appear when I wasn’t around, I wasn’t stupid. A notification when I turned my computer on would have been nice. Instead they hid them away like the last dregs of a milkshake hiding away under the lip of the dumpster.

“Carrying on, Clockblocker’s behaviour is unacceptable and he’ll be punished severely for his actions. You will also be punished for your actions; assaulting another Ward is never acceptable.” She raised a hand as I opened my mouth. “Your punishment will not be as severe as Clockblocker will receive. Despite being partially the fault of poor administration, your actions were still assault. You also damaged Clockblocker’s uniform, stopping him from going to the fundraiser, and it will need to be replaced entirely due to the smell permeating it.” 

“I’m sorry.” I was sorry. My actions felt justified in the moment, but looking back they weren’t needed. If I had stayed quiet, if I had just waited, then Clockblocker would be the only one in trouble. Remaining calm made someone a better hero. 

“Being sorry is good, it shows remorse. A better apology is doing better in the future. I believe that you can be an excellent example of a hero, Raccoon Knight. You’ve shown the ability to listen, which is more than most young heroes can claim. Going forward, you’ll be assigned a handler who will be with you while you’re in your workshop. This handler will not be cleared to see your identity unless you permit it and fill out the appropriate paperwork. So, mask on at all times, even if it’s just a domino mask. They’ll answer any questions you have. Consider them a resource like any other.” 

Ma’am slid a piece of paper over to me. There were a lot of big words I didn’t understand, as well as some small words I also didn’t understand. 

“You’ll be required to sign this to show you understand the situation. I expect this paperwork back by the end of the week. Read it over with an adult you trust. Understand that this is for your benefit. Legally, you’re not required to sign, in which case I can’t assign you a handler. However, I am allowed to restrict your patrols, workshop access, and monitor how your time is spent here. I do not want to do this. I trust you’ll make the right choice. You’re dismissed, unless you have any questions.” 

I took a moment to process her words. I’d always wanted a lab assistant, though I’d imagined a small plant creature rather than a human. Having someone to just ask questions to could also be nice, even if they were constantly watching over me. Having to wear a mask in my lab sounded a bit tiring, I’d have to make something that hid my identity without my helmet. Domino masks just didn’t cover enough. 

My hair was already identifiable due to its length. I’d taken to wearing it in a braid while in costume to push apart my identities. When I first went out as a Ward I’d kept it in a braid because of the damage, but it turned out to be a practical style, much less likely to get in my face. Practical and different, both good. 

Could I be just as effective as a Tinker while under the peering eye of a crystal ball? That’s what my handler would be, a crystal ball for Ma’am to view me through. As useful of a resource as they could be to me, they were also watching over me at all times. 

A handler would stop me biotinkering ever again. Maybe that was for the best? The metal clasps inside my finger felt like a permanent reminder that I had been scared and stupid. 

I shook my head, unsure of how long Ma’am had been waiting for my answer. She didn’t seem to mind the delay as she nodded once at me. 

“Have a good day, Knight. Try to get that paperwork looked over as soon as possible.” Ma’am gestured to the door. 

Ma’am’s office had a weird smell, the type of smell you don’t notice until you leave the room. Stepping into the hallway felt like stepping out of a perfume store and into the processed air of the mall. It wasn’t perfume–perfume smells were usually too strong for my nose. I couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

I wonder if she knew her office smelt weird?

With the push of a button, Elel’s sunglasses flicked up to my forehead  letting me see the world without a permanent tint. Even with it gone, I couldn’t read the document well. Dozens of unknown words taunted me from the odd feeling paper. Strange words and unusual paper made me feel like I was holding an ancient scroll that held a spell: Summon Handler. 

My mom’s mom had sent her an old dusty box full of things from her childhood. One of those things was a device that let you play virtual games, like the arcade but at home. Plus, there were no pesky quarters needing to be funnelled into it. Mom said she played it a ton when she was a kid. We spent some time just going through her old favourite games. One of them featured mages who found an ancient spellbook that pointed them to long forgotten crypts containing scrolls to add to its pages. 

Magic seemed like it could be fun to have. Maybe I could speak to Myrddin? He used magic instead of powers, which was cool. Knowing a few spells could help me be a better hero or even just assist in my day-to-day life. 

“Ask Myrddin to teach me magic in exchange for a cool device,” I said into my voice recorder. 

A passing PRT agent turned to me and made a strange noise, somewhere between a cough and a laugh. I wasn’t sure why. 

I folded the paperwork up to shove into one of my pouches. Mom could look at it when I got home. Right now it was time for an early morning patrol. 

While gearing up for patrol I thought about my weekend plans. Mel had invited me to watch her at a kickboxing tournament. I was excited to see her in action. Waiting for the weekend felt agonising, though. Saturday–despite being just a day away–felt locked away deep within a fairy forest where time means little. 

I thought about adding a countdown to Elel before realising that it would just make the wait more obvious. Better to just brush it aside so my brain let it pass without notice. Time goes faster if you ignore it. Enforcers would leave the dumpsters alone quicker if you just went to check out other dumpsters. 

I shoved the thoughts aside and focused on the now, on my patrol. Having to patrol after yesterday didn’t help my nerves. I rubbed a finger over the slight line in my fingertip to remind myself of what I’d done. 

No more biotinkering. No matter what. 

Shadow Stalker leant against the air conditioner unit on the convenience store roof with her arms folded and masked face lowered. 

“Do you really have to bounce everywhere?” 

I switched Dede to her hammerhead from her pogo head. “Aiai’s battery gets used up too fast if I use her just to get around. I’d rather save her for when we’re in an actual fight.” 

“The thing on your arm, right?” 

I held up my right arm to showcase the metal boxes and wires running down it. “Yep, Aiai, the Free. My right hand gal.” 

“Can’t you just make a better battery? I don’t want photos of me with the pogo-stick girl.” 

“Armsmaster doesn’t use batteries that much, and the one I have from him powers Dede.” I twirled Dede around to rest her against the same unit Shadow Stalker was leaning against. 

“And Kid Win’s batteries tend to fry out completely rather than just need minor repairs. So, I only have a couple from him. Aiai has one of those already.” 

“Just use the battery from Dede on Aiai. Can’t be that power hungry, it’s a pogo-stick.” 

“Well… that’s a good idea, actually. Dede only really needs it to power the vacuum, for that I could use the same thing I use for Fufu. A self-feeding air cycle instead of a whole battery.” 

I pried the battery from Dede and fitted it into Aiai’s components instead. She greedily slurped down some charge from the battery to refill herself. Then I dismantled the self-feeding bellows on the back of Fufu to attach to Dede instead. I wasn’t carrying spare whip cream canisters to replace Fufu’s firing component, but I did have the mouthpiece to allow for manual firing. 

The bellows made Dede a little lopsided in weight, but Aiai’s extra lifespan per trip more than made up for that. Fufu felt a little sad without the bellow system. I hadn’t even used her in a while. Maybe that was stupid of me. Being at a range usually meant being safer. Why had I always decided to go into melee? 

Shadow Stalker rolled her shoulders. “You’re welcome, runt. All done?” 

I hooked Dede into the slot on my back before nodding. 

“Finished speaking to the cashier,” Gallant’s voice came over the comms. “Said his son followed the perps back to a mechanic’s garage not too far from here. We’ve got an hour before lunch. Want to check it out?”

“Finally,” Shadow Stalker groaned. She leapt down from the roof, turning to mist as she disappeared past the edge of the building. I cycled Dede’s head back to the pogo stick before climbing aboard her footholds. With a short hop to clear the raised edge of the building, I plummeted down to the alley below. Going to the street risked hitting a passing civilian. 

Despite the fall only being a single story it still caused my heart to thump in my chest with excitement. 

The pogo-stick compressed deep, blowing out puffs of air from the sides to lessen the blow of the fall. She sprang back up, sending me hopping down the alley. After a few more jumps I was back to a normal velocity, and could safely dismount. Dede spun in my hand as I left the alley, and turning heads looked my way as she was smoothly clipped back onto my armour. I waved at the curious people before joining Gallant and Shadow Stalker outside the store.

I gave Gallant a thumbs up. He returned it before turning to lead the way. 

Shadow Stalker seemed to hate having to walk on the ground. Even just waiting around for Gallant to talk with the cashier had caused her to leap on top of the convenience store the moment he went inside. She had called it ‘keeping watch’. I think she just liked being high up. I couldn’t blame her; dealing with civilians did take a lot out of you. 

Even now we were being stopped occasionally for an autograph. Well, Gallant and Shadow Stalker were. Gallant would politely decline, saying we were on the way to an active crime scene so he unfortunately couldn’t sign anything right now. 

This could all be avoided if Kid Win had put a flight method in Gallant’s armour. I didn’t hate dealing with civilians, even with my bad experiences. Gushing over heroes was something I had done myself, so I couldn’t blame them. But being on the other end of it while we were just trying to do our job annoyed me a little. Heroes didn’t patrol my old neighbourhood that much, so I knew I had never annoyed them like this. 

Maybe it was petty of me to be annoyed. I just needed a victory right now and they were stopping me. 

We finally managed to remove ourselves from the crowd. Heading down an alley seemed to discourage them from following us further. 

Gallant requested permission to engage as we finished finding our way to the garage. 

It was a run down red brick building with a heavily padlocked garage door and a less heavily padlocked actual door. Unusually, there wasn’t any graffiti on the building itself. Every other building featured tags from about three different gangs. This one had been scrubbed clean for reasons unknown. 

Gallant guided us around the back using only hand signals. We followed his lead and tried to stay quiet. Shadow Stalker’s light costume let her glide around without much noise. My own costume–despite the chainmail–wasn’t too loud thanks to my expert design choices.

If compared to Gallant’s armour, I would be near silent. If compared to Shadow Stalker, I’d be a hungry cat yelling on a fire escape at midnight. 

Gallant clunked us around the back of the building. 

“Emotional signatures of three people inside. Knight, confirm?” 

I swapped Elel to heat vision. The world turned to a strange shade of grey, with heat highlighted by various shades of purple. Gallant and Shadow Stalker were bright beacons in the gloomy world. Three human-shaped purple blobs shifted around in the basement of the building, partially hidden by the pipes running through the floor. Normal heat vision couldn't see through walls—too much insulation—but Elel was a special girl who I loved very much and could do anything she set her mind to.

“Can’t confirm. They’re in the basement, pipes are blocking me. Three-ish?” 

“Okay. Stalker, wires?” 

Shadow Stalker shook her head. “Too many to get through the wall. Could get to the basement if I’m already inside.” 

“Okay. We’ll use Ohoh to open a hole in the wall,” 

“Aiai,” I corrected him.

“Sorry, Aiai, to get in. Stalker will fall through the floor away from the group to flank, while Knight and I take the stairs. Only go through the floor on my signal, we need to breach at the same time, got it?” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” 

“The surprise of it should let us get the first blows in. I’ll hit as many as I can with calming shots, while Knight throws her containment grenades. Stalker, tranquilise whoever is closest to you, we’ll consider them lower priority. After that we’ll engage with whoever is closest to us. All clear?” 

We both nodded. “Then we breach on three.” 

Gallant counted us down. On his mark I opened a hole in the wall using Aiai. Brick warped aside to create a perfect circle that let us slip inside the building unnoticed. 

“No alarm yet,” Gallant half-whispered to us. 

Inside we could see two cars resting on raised yellow beams. Heavy wooden benches lined the room with various tools thrown across them. It reminded me of Armsmaster’s workshop, in a way. Replace the cars with power armour, some of the benches with office desks, and you had a close match. Unlike Armsmaster’s workshop, there were sloped areas in the concrete floor underneath the yellow beams. 

One of the purple figures below us stood up, walked over to a purple box, retrieved something that was more black than grey, and returned back to his sitting position. Something cold from a fridge, probably.

I pointed to a spot further away from the people below us for Stalker to drop through. She walked over to wait for us to get into position. 

Gallant and I found the stairs nearer the back of the building. They went down a short way before flattening out and then heading down further towards us. A lower-cased ‘n’ shape. 

Leaning over the metal handrail showed me a closed door at the bottom. I pinched the distance from the top of the stairs to the bottom to reduce the amount of noise we would make. Gallant stepped through after me. He wobbled a little on his feet as I closed the gap. 

“Not used to that, way different to Vista… Listen in?” Gallant whispered.

I nodded, cranking up the receiving volume on my radio. It acted like a microphone, letting me pick up on noises I wouldn’t otherwise be able to–especially since my helmet dulled them. I could hear the chatter of a television, some kind of sports game. Two of the men were saying encouraging words to the people on the TV. I did that too, sometimes. Another voice joined them after a few seconds. 

“I can hear three people. All of them are watching TV, some kind of sports channel. Want more?” 

Gallant shook his head. “Good enough,” he whispered just to me. “Breaching in three, two, one…” he continued over comms. 

Gallant kicked the door below the handle. It burst open; inside I could see red armchairs set up around a big blocky television in the bare-walled basement. Two of the three men started to their feet, leaping out of their chairs. The other man, a skinny guy with long hair, scrambled across the back of his chair unaware that Shadow Stalker was floating down from the floor above. 

Shadow Stalker’s crossbow wire twanged as she loosed a bolt right into the skinny guy’s arm. 

Gallant’s emotional blasts rippled through the air, slamming into one of the men before he could properly reach his feet, causing him to slump back down into the sofa, a content look plastered on his face. He didn’t even try to dodge the marshmallow payload that stuck against his stomach. 

Another emotional blast hit his more stable friend, who raised his hands above his head. 

“We surrend…er..” His voice faded as the calming effect took its hold. 

Shadow Stalker swept her arm in a wide arc, hungry for more. There weren’t any other doors, only the exit to the basement. No one was hiding behind the mini-fridge. 

“Seriously? That’s it? Three guys?” Shadow Stalker huffed. She grabbed the arm of the guy she tranquilised and slipped his wrists into a zip-tie. 

Gallant followed her lead, zip-tying the non-marshmallowed man. 

“Finally some action and it’s three randos that don’t even fight back,” she muttered under her breath as she reloaded her crossbow. I wasn’t supposed to hear her. My radio enhanced incoming sound around me, letting me pick on conversations I wasn’t supposed to. Hearing people doing mundane things wasn’t directly harmful, but it was still an invasion of privacy. My radio was a useful tool that made me feel like a creep. 

I shifted the volume back down. Better to let Sophia be upset on her own. 

After prying away dried marshmallows we managed to get all the robbers tied up. A dissolvent–like the PRT used for the actual containment foam–would help a lot with this process. Gallant had decent upper body strength assisted further by his power armour, meaning it wasn’t as painful as when I had to do it on my own. 

Gallant approached me after we’d secured all the robbers in a PRT van. 

“Knight, how do I get this off my gloves?” He held his gloved palms up to me. Spotty pink paste plastered his hands, specks of glitter catching the light as he shifted slightly. Glitter was my own personal touch for my containment marshmallows; I also had some in my healing paste.

“Water and soap should do it. Though, be careful touching stuff for a while–unless you like glitter, I guess.”

He stared down at his sparkly hands. “Thanks… Anyway, we’re heading back now, I let Stalker go on ahead. Wanna walk with me? There’s a vending machine not too far from here, I can buy us some drinks.” 

I didn’t have anywhere to be until pottery class later, so I decided to accept his offer. We took a slightly winding route through side streets to avoid as much of the public eye as possible. At least that’s what I think we were doing. Dean might just like looking at mailboxes. 

The vending machine was dented, rusted, and had most of its stickers scraped off. In other words, it was well-loved. Things like this had history. People often didn’t appreciate the machines that ran in the background of society. Vending machines were often pried open and gutted, so I wasn’t even sure how this one managed to survive long enough to be in such a condition. 

Gallant fed quarters into the machine then took a long moment to scan what remained of the faded buttons. 

“I’ve no clue what any of these are,” he said. 

“Just means you get a mystery flavour. Like the mystery juice you find in fast food places.” 

“Mystery juice? You mean the soda dispensers?” 

“Yeah! You take off the metal thing and there’s a bunch of soda mixed together. Mystery juice! Usually it tastes pretty bad, but one time it tasted sort of like cake.”

“Knight, you’re not supposed to drink that. That’s just to stop it from overflowing. How’re you still alive? I can’t imagine people only let soda go in there.”

“It wasn’t that bad. Well, it tasted bad but it wasn’t that bad.” 

Gallant rubbed a gloved hand across his mask, wiping the marshmallow glitter combo across his helmet. I giggled a little. After a moment’s confusion he groaned. 

“I got it across my helmet, didn’t I?” 

I fought back a snicker then handed him one of my tissues. His attempts to wipe down his helmet just smeared the paste further, dyeing the silver an odd shade of pink. After a few more attempts he gave up wiping then pushed two buttons on the vending machine at random.

It whirred into life before clunking two cans of soda into the retrieval slot. Both had labels I’d never seen before. One said it tasted like ‘electric grape’, the other tasted like ‘peppermint’. Made up flavours made it hard to judge which would be better. 

“Do you want–” Gallant held up the cans to his visor. “Grape Soda. Wow, that’s generic. Or ‘Peppermint Dream’?” 

“Grape soda. I want to see if it delivers a static shock, as advertised.” 

He handed the cool can to me. “I don’t think that’s how it works.” 

I lifted my mouthguard as I popped open the can. There wasn’t a static shock. There wasn’t even any flavour, just fizz. 

I frowned. “Tastes like nothing.” 

“Guess I’ll see if mine’s any better.” The armour around Gallant’s mouth slid up to the sides, revealing his lower face. He took a hefty swig from ‘Peppermint Dream’ before promptly spitting it out. “That is disgusting.” Flecks of soda dribbled down his chin. 

“Mystery juice!” I raised my hands to the sky, sloshing soda out of the can onto the ground near me. 

Gallant laughed. “Mystery juice!” He joined me in my cheer. 

We continued the trek home. Gallant was going to throw his drink away but I offered to take it. Even if it tasted bad, you don’t waste food. Or drinks, in this case. 

As we walked down a surprisingly barren street considering how close we were to the Boardwalk, Gallant asked me, “How’re you handling yesterday?” 

I half-choked on my electric grape peppermint mix before managing to swallow it down. “Ugh, sorry. I’ve been… dealing, I guess.” 

“Dealing is better than the alternative,” he said before we returned to silence. 

A little while later he continued, “I don’t know what happened, just that something happened. Aegis didn’t specify too much, but I’ve been feeling the emotions pouring off you and Clockblocker all morning. If you wanted to, you could talk to me. I’m a good listener.” 

“I… Thank you.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Do you know what happened last month, between Dennis and me?” Gallant nodded. “It’s more of that… I just don’t know why he’s being like that. He keeps telling me that people are dying, which I get, people are dying, but he doesn’t seem to care that I loved Coco. Even if he doesn’t understand why, he could at least care about my feelings, even if he doesn’t get it. I don’t get most feelings but I still care when people tell me they’re hurting.” 

“Clock is…” He paused for a moment, taking a bit of time to wipe down his still gooey gloves with his thumb. “Well he… is..” He paused again. I waited patiently. “He has someone important to him that he might lose. Recently his condition worsened and Clock has been on edge ever since. Uh, not that it made him right to say the things I’ve been told he said. He just considers it personal when you’re just as upset as he is over losing someone he doesn’t consider ‘real’. It isn’t my place to have told you any of that but I don’t want you to feel like you’re in the dark. He’s already upset, I don’t think he’s going to get more upset.” 

“I didn’t know.” Did losing someone important excuse being a jerk? Probably. At the same time, he had hurt my feelings. “It still doesn’t make it right.” 

Gallant sighed, which was made slightly echoey by his helmet. “No, you’re right. Being part of a team means understanding, even if your teammate doesn’t reciprocate.” 

“Reciprocate?” 

“Return the gesture, like the understanding. You just need to give him space and time. Apologise when you can, don’t escalate if he gets angry. Be the better person.” 

“Why’s that on me? Why can’t he be the better person?” 

“Sometimes that’s just the way it is. You do everything in your power to be a good person, the moral person, and the other party just hates you. In the end, at least you tried. It’s the same as dealing with criminals. You can’t go around just murdering them, even if they would kill you to save their own skin. We use non-lethal methods, because even the scum of the earth don’t deserve to be killed.” 

“So if I kill Clockblocker I’ll never have to deal with it all! Thanks, Gallant,” I joked. 

Gallant laughed. “We’ve all wanted to do that at some point. Just… be patient with it. If he yells at you, just come to me. We can play a game or something to take your mind off it, or just talk about it. Processing things is easier when you have someone to process with. You can also talk to Aegis, he’s a good mediator. Vista is about your age if you want someone closer to you.” 

“Vista feels like she’s already eighteen.”

“She wants to be taken seriously. It’s hard being the youngest. Treat her with respect like you would anyone else, I promise she’ll warm up to you.” 

It felt like good advice. Late night TV telling you to buy a toaster with eighteen slots also felt like good advice. I trusted Gallant enough as a fellow Ward to at least try it. 

“Thank you, Gallant. Thanks for the mystery juice, too.” 

He gave me a thumbs up. 

The Wards were crowded around the widescreen television in a loose semi-circle. The TV looked like it was showing the news. I couldn’t read the text scrolling at the bottom of the screen from this far away, or hear the reporter that well. Something about a leak?

Beside me, Gallant removed his helmet, his face was plastered with what looked like worry. 

“What’s going on?” he asked as we walked over. 

Aegis turned to us; it looked like he had been in the process of putting his costume on but had been interrupted. “The Empire’s identities have been leaked.” 

As we got closer to the TV we could hear the reporter speaking, “-Anders was known to work directly with James Fliescher, known by his cape alias, Krieg, who headed a chain of pharmacies now known to be subsidiaries of Medhall.” She continued on, listing details of Krieg’s life. 

Gallant dropped his helmet onto the couch before slumping down onto it himself. 

“Are you okay?” I asked him. 

“We knew them, they were–” he muttered then shook his head as he realised I had spoken. “Don’t worry. I’m okay.” His smile didn’t look real. He stood up, clasping a hand on my shoulder to guide me towards the TV. 

We continued to watch the news lady list off the civilian identities of Empire Eighty-Eight members. Most weren’t even capes, just civilians that spent their weekends peddling drugs and beating up minorities. 

They interrupted their own broadcast to show the riots already forming on the streets as angry Empire Eighty-Eight were causing chaos. They had nothing left to lose. 

I guess my weekend plans are ruined. 

Chapter Text

“Put down your weapons and surrender,” Triumph commanded the Empire members. Even from this distance his powerful voice carried.

None of them listened. They hadn’t all afternoon. Fifteen heads turned towards the lion-headed hero. He made for a scary figure while still looking heroic.

Three of them raised gun barrels at him. He stepped backwards, crossing over the pinched reality to the other side of the Empire. I closed the gap before any bullets could follow through. Despite the rest being armed with melee weapons, it still wouldn’t be an easy fight for Triumph. One against fifteen didn’t bode well. Fortunately, he had us for long distance backup.

Pavement twisted upwards to form a bowl around the Empire mob. Some of the more nimble clambered out before they could be trapped completely. Vista finalised the impromptu skatepark with a flick of her hands. She turned to me, a satisfied smile plastered on her face.

“Your turn,” she said. 

Vista had initially been upset at putting us both on the same patrol. We worked well together when we needed to get around the city in a hurry, but right now you couldn’t go five feet without bumping into the Empire Eighty-Eight. She said it was a ‘tactical disadvantage’ to lump us both together. So, she’d taken to trying to compete with me for most assists. I wasn’t sure how we were keeping track of who gave an assist to Triumph or not, but at least she seemed to be having fun or at least was distracting herself well with this. I wasn’t sure what her goal was.

Not that I was complaining, my brain needed the distraction from this mess. 

Aiai pinched space to bring Triumph into the middle of the bowl. Empire members were trying to climb up the edges, leaving the centre free. He clapped his hands, amplifying the sound to take out three scrambling Empire in a wave. As the men near them fled Vista shifted the ground to capture them in their own personal bowls. 

I couldn’t do much. Like Vista, Aiai didn’t pair well with people. Unlike Vista, it wasn’t a built in limitation and more of a morale one. 

Aiming from this distance took a lot of concentration, the panic of mulching someone kept flickering into my brain. Through the scope of my borrowed weapon, I watched as Triumph darted around the arena, taking out another person with each shout. A rubber bullet smacked into a knife-wielding man who tried to sneak up on him. A containment foam grenade and the man stayed down. 

Guns were loud, even powered guns. Rifles were louder than the pistols I was used to. Miss Militia fired another rubber bullet into a scrambling Empire member. My ear protection saved me from the worst of it, but being next to someone firing a rifle still rattled my bones. 

“All down, get ready to move,” Miss Militia’s rifle blurred in her hands as she stood up. My own rifle joined her, both forming together into a knife that she sheathed away. “Back to normal, Vista. Triumph has them contained.”

Vista stuck her tongue out in concentration as she pressed the road back down to normal. Aiai felt envious as the display of her superior power. Or maybe that was me… 

I felt so useless here. Vista offered better support than I ever could. My only advantage was being able to move Triumph around as Vista concentrated. Personally, I felt she could do it all on her own and that Miss Militia was just offering me something to do to keep me out of the way. 

My phone buzzed inside one of my pouches, Elel displayed the incoming message. 

Mouse Protector!!!  

hey, kid, wanna put down some nazis with lil ol me? 🐁⚔️🧀

Mouse Protector!!!  

put down as in put down into jail 

Mouse Protector!!!  

in case any big wigs are reading 🧑‍⚖️

Me

Let me check with MM

I texted back before following the warped space Vista had made. 

As I caught up I asked, “Miss Militia, would it be alright if I went with Mouse Protector? I don’t think I’m offering much here.” 

“Really?” I nodded. Miss Militia stared at me with a blank face. “You need a protectorate member with you, she doesn’t count.”

“What if someone is free to go with us?” 

“In that case, yes. Though I don’t think you'd do more with her than with us. I need to scout out the next streets.” She nodded once to Vista before disappearing around the corner. 

“Too outclassed, huh?” Vista smirked at me. 

“Yes, O Mighty Vista. I cannot compete.” I bowed deep towards her. She snorted a cute little snort. 

“Console, this is Raccoon Knight. Mouse Protector wants to patrol with me but I need someone from the Protectorate to go with, anyone free?” 

“No one’s free,” came Clockblocker’s instant reply. 

“Did you even check?” 

“No.” 

“Please. Check.” I forced myself to grin. Smiling when you weren’t happy could trick the brain into being happy. 

“No. Stop clogging up communi–” 

“This is Armsmaster. Raccoon Knight, I can go with you. Name a location.” 

Oh, good. Better than dealing with Dennis. You could always rely on Armsmaster to get to the point. I sent a text to Mouse Protector to get her location and relayed it to Armsmaster. She was somewhere near the docks, currently waiting for officers to arrest her prey. Maybe prey was the wrong word for someone called Mouse Protector. 

Armsmaster confirmed the location then asked if I needed transport. I wasn’t too far, but who could say no to a ride-along with Armsmaster? 

Several minutes later I was zooming down the streets on the back of his motorbike. Speed limits were disobeyed without a single care as we zipped between cars with practised ease. My braided hair whipped around in the breeze behind me. Going this fast was awesome! 

Maybe when I could drive I’d get a motorbike of my own.

We arrived at Mouse Protector in no time flat. She held her sword by the blade, pommel hovering above the shoulder of one of the people she had arrested. 

“Hey there, kid! And hey there, Mr. Robot.” Mouse Protector waved at us. 

I saw Armsmaster frown before the lower half of his helmet slid into place to cover his mouth. 

“Always a pleasure, Mouse Protector,” Armsmaster said. He pushed down a handcuffed woman who was trying to get to her feet with the bottom of his halberd. “How long ago did you call for transport?” 

“Squirrely lot, huh? Had to pop this guy with my pommel three times before he got the memo.” She tapped the pommel against the shoulder of the man below her, who winced at the light contact. “About ten minutes ago, now. Said they’d be about eleven, so they’ve got a minute before I become mouse-erable.” 

“Hilarious,” Armsmaster said in a deadpan tone. “The officers you called were caught up in a fight between Merchant and Empire capes about a minute ago. They’re not too far from here. Tag me and I can drive myself and Raccoon Knight over.” 

Mouse Protector scoffed. “Fancy gadgets, robot boy.” She slapped a hand against his shoulder. “You’re it!” 

Armsmaster didn’t respond. He pressed the base of his halberd’s shaft against each of the zip-tied prisoners' hands. A metallic wire clipped out of it to wrap around each of their wrists.

“These have trackers in them and will resist most tools you can think of to break free. Stay put and we’ll be back for you later.” 

“Fuck you, you stu–” A small bola fired from Armsmaster’s gauntlet, wrapping around the woman’s mouth before she could say much more. It looked like a normal piece of cloth once fully wrapped around her mouth. 

“I have more of those,” Armsmaster said, matter of fact. No one else spoke up. I wish I could be that intimidating with such a simple line. 

He nodded once to Mouse Protector before gesturing for me to get on his bike. 

“Raccoon Knight will message you when we’re in position.” 

“Aye aye, Captain.” Mouse Protector saluted to Armsmaster’s back. He took off the moment we were both in the seat. I saluted back to her as we zipped away around the corner. 

“Raccoon Knight,” Armsmaster said as we zoomed down the half-deserted streets, “I have a free slot available tomorrow at five pm if you want to collaborate on something together. You could watch me at work if you have nothing you need help with. It might be informational. I also have some spare parts from a project I scrapped, you’re free to use them either way.” 

Armsmaster wanted to make something with me? What would we even make? Ideas swirled around in my head. A gunshot snapped me out of my thoughts. Better to respond now and figure it out later. 

“Yes, I’d love to!” 

“Okay.” We drove in silence for less than a minute before arriving at the obvious battle site. “We’re here. Inform Mouse Protector.” 

We skidded to a halt a distance away from the fight. I grabbed my phone as I hopped off the bike.

Mush– that bastard– was brawling with a topless man in a tiger mask who kept tearing out large chunks of Mush’s body. That’d be Stormtiger, if my research into the Bay’s capes was right. Camera images of villains tended to be taken from far away, leaving a lot of detail out. 

Stormtiger hopped away, using blasts of air to shove Mush back. An officer leant out of the cover of their car before firing a few rounds at a man carrying a shotgun. One of the shots clipped the shotgun guy, causing him to tumble down. A blast of air wobbled the car, a second blast narrowly missed the officer’s head as he ducked back down.

Mush took the opening to slam a massive trash arm down at Stormtiger. Stormtiger’s fist collided with the hand before the entire arm exploded away. Trash rained down across the street as Mush stumbled back. 

Mouse Protector appeared as soon as I had sent the text, making me doubt she had even read it. She slapped a hand against Armsmaster’s shoulder. 

“What’s the sitch, Hal?” 

Was that Armsmaster’s civilian name? Mouse Protector shouldn’t be using that while he was in costume. 

“Stormtiger and Mush, plus several unpowered running around with mostly melee weapons, one shotgun. Stormtiger seems to be in a hurry to leave.” 

Stormtiger had been making his way further down the street with each engagement before having to stop to fight as Mush leapt back in. With Mush’s arm gone he had been making his way further to the man with the shotgun, keeping the one-armed Mush busy with lazy blasts of air. 

“Got any projectiles in that plastic toy halberd of yours?” 

“Stormtiger will deflect them.” 

“He will, but he won’t be expecting me to show up with it.” 

Armsmaster clicked a button of his halberd, opening up a slot that dispensed a small metal orb. Mouse Protector tapped it before Armsmaster placed it back inside. 

“Raccoon Knight, keep your distance from the shotgun. Use your rifle to cover us with stink bullets while we engage.” 

“He means cover the bad guys with stink bullets, not us. Some people let their power do all the thinking.” Mouse Protector nudged me with her elbow as she tapped a fist against her helmet. “Don’t worry, kid, I have smarts enough to cover for him.” 

“I meant cover as in–nevermind. Engaging.” 

Armsmaster fired the small orb from the tip of his halberd, it sailed through the air towards Stormtiger. With a wave of Stormtiger’s hand, the orb diverted around him and began to fly off down the street, Stormtiger smashed through a nearby store window to change course. 

Unfortunately for him, Mouse Protector appeared from the orb as it went by, with her taser knuckle dusters already raised. He twisted away as if he could sense her, but he was too late to dodge. A shock-enhanced punch collided with his side, sending him to the ground convulsing. 

Mouse Protector wasted no time, delivering another punch and tapping him with her other hand. 

Armsmaster sprinted forward, Halberd firing out more of the orbs he’d used to deliver Mouse Protector. Instead of delivering a sword-wielding woman, they delivered electrical shocks to the man carrying the shotgun and to Mush’s enormous trash body. 

I fired some stink pellets into anyone currently standing that wasn’t Armsmaster, Mouse Protector, or a PRT officer. My aim wasn’t great with the manual firing but even a miss made the area smell bad. 

Mouse Protector leapt backwards, narrowly dodging an explosion of air. Stormtiger, still twitching, slashed out at her with blind swipes. I didn’t want to accidentally hit her, so I kept my shots away from the pair.

The orbs acted like bolas, wrapping themselves around those they hit with a metal cable that delivered a shock if they moved too much. Shotgun guy wasn’t getting up anytime soon, that meant it was safe to go forward, right? 

I jogged forwards while offering as much covering fire as I could. My stink pellets wouldn’t hurt but they might keep the unpowered members down for a bit. 

Stormtiger stumbled forward, still slashing wildly at any movement. Armsmaster slammed his mace-headed halberd down against him. It didn’t quite hit, deflected by some unseen force, but it did however cause Stormtiger to trip up on his feet to avoid it. Mouse Protector re-appeared to deliver a shock-punch. Her fist failed to collide and a swipe of his invisible claws caused her to retreat.

Unpowered members noticed me approaching and turned to block my view of the cape fight just as Mush was approaching. I needed my revenge against him, but arresting the Empire members came first.

A marshmallow grenade I threw towards a skinny man with a machete missed and splattered a wall nearby before inflating. Two quick shots from Fufu caused the skinny guy to stumble back, plunging his arm into the sticky marshmallow substance. With his machete holding arm stuck I moved onto the next person. 

A woman with a shaved head rushed towards the shotgun laying beside the former wielder. I buffeted the shotgun with an airblast from Dede to shove it aside before swapping to her hammerhead to swing at the woman’s outstretched arm. Dede slammed into it with a sickening crunch. The woman screamed, collapsing to the ground in a heap. Fuck.

A queasy feeling settled in my stomach. I couldn’t let it get to me, I had to fight. 

I marshmallowed her unbroken arm to stick her to the floor before slathering a thick layer of healing paste onto her broken arm. It wouldn’t fix the broken bones, but it would dull the pain. 

“Sorry,” I said before moving on to the next person. She spat at my feet as I ran by. 

Two men approached me, one carried a thick metal chain that looked similar to the ones wrapped around Stormtiger’s body. The other had a knife that would be a better fit for a camping trip than a brawl. 

A blast of Stormtiger’s air exploded on the ground between us, causing all three of us to stumble back. Mouse Protector hopped over a nearby car, grabbing me by the arm as she ran by further down the street. I almost fell at the sudden movement before managing to find my feet. 

“Why’re we running?” I yelled to Mouse Protector. 

“Purity’s here! Armsmaster called in Dauntless but we gotta go. Don’t look back, kid; just run!” 

I looked back to see a glowing figure high in the sky, way above the buildings. Just looking at her caused spots to appear in my eyes despite the anti-glare sunglasses in my helmet. 

The tiny glowing figure outstretched her arm then pointed down towards us. Two beams of spiralling energy lanced out, tearing through cars and road alike. They weren’t aimed at us but I felt the vibrations from the destruction. Armsmaster had been there, I could only hope he had gotten away. 

Mouse Protector pulled at my arm to guide me down an alleyway. We sprinted through side-streets, taking a winding path to hopefully avoid the flying, glowing, laser woman. 

Twin beams of light seared through the bricks of a building ahead of us, ripping them apart like paper. There were screams from the people inside. The building collapsed under its own weight, coughing up dust to fill the street. 

Another laser flashed overhead, more dust followed it. Mouse Protector pulled me to the right, away from the collapsing buildings.

People had died. If not from the lasers, then from the buildings caving in. There was nothing I could do about it, nothing I could have done about it. 

Purity’s lasers flashed behind us, nowhere close to our new position. Her destruction had given us the cover we needed to lose her, the deaths of those people had given us the cover we needed. 

We didn’t stop running. Sounds of more buildings being sliced in two echoed behind us. My heartbeat thumped in my ears with each pounding step. 

We passed by building after building, more targets for Purity to destroy. If she was targeting us, wouldn’t it be better to not hide behind buildings? Even if it meant she had a clearer shot, that was better than people getting hurt for us, right? 

My legs burnt from the constant sprint. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.

Mouse Protector pulled me into a sharp right into an open factory. Giant copper green machines lay idle, coated in layers of dust from years of being abandoned. I could see signs of homeless people living here but none were around right now. Sunlight poured in from the skylights above, making the whole place mercifully bright. If it was darker we might have stumbled on the random bits of debris on the floor.

Mouse Protector looked back towards me then looked up towards the skylights. She shoved me aside, leaping the other way at the same time. 

A beam of light sliced through where we were standing. I stumbled from the shove, landing hard on my back. 

Bricks crumbled from the new hole in the roof, collapsing down around me. I rolled to my side to try to get to my feet, my legs didn’t respond in time causing me to flop onto my stomach.

I crawled to try to get away from the collapsing roof. A machine near me sat in a lower part of the floor, and a grate protected people from slipping into the gaps. Someone had been prying away the grate, leaving an opening big enough for my slide in. My armour made a horrible noise as I shuffled across the ground. Bits of brick pinged against the back of my helmet and breastplate. 

I grabbed the edges of the opening, heaving my unresponsive body into the hole. My stomach lurched as I fell down below the machinery, landing in a heap at the bottom, only narrowly avoiding landing head first. 

With a final push, I crawled beneath the machinery itself to get complete cover. Now, I could only hope the machine held as the rest of the building came down. 

Mouse Protector could teleport, she’d be fine. I had Aiai to help me escape once it was settled. 

Rubble tumbled down the hole I had crawled through, cutting off the little light that was left in this concrete box. Dust filled my small chamber. I still had the filters from the week of Bakuda’s bombing installed in my helmet. They were too convenient to remove, so I kept a few handy. Thank the stars for past me being so prepared. 

Lying under here wasn’t comfortable. I couldn’t move my body much at all with the machine pressing down against me. One arm had been squashed beneath before I had settled, and the other was pressed awkwardly at my side. 

With the adrenaline fading, I found my whole body hurting. My legs still didn’t hurt, they also didn’t respond to me asking them to move.

I waited as the sounds of the building being destroyed settled down. A pile of rubble had settled through the hole, sliding down far enough to touch my side. The machine above me had held, saving my life. I took a deep breath, counting on my filter to protect me from all the dust in the air. It didn’t help much, my heartbeat still pounded in my ears. 

I needed to assess the damage but Elel refused to respond to my commands, her display inside my glasses only showing a blinking ‘Error: Connection not found. ’ message. 

Great. Just great. 

Sliding my right arm from under me caused a dull throbbing pain, but I managed it. I shifted to my side to see it better. Aiai’s components were all still attached to my arm, the gunmetal-black boxes were all still connected to each other. At the top of my arm I could see Elel’s wires to my right arm were missing. Her main wire ran down the back of my neck, it might have been cut when I was crawling into here. 

I wasn’t sure how to get out of here. The indent was deeper than I had initially thought, and from beneath the machinery all I could see was four concrete walls, one of them with a mound of rubble sliding down it. If my legs were working I might be able to crawl back out using that.

Right, my legs. The dim light made it hard to see. Stupid of me to not have installed a flashlight in my armour. I shifted around with small shuffles at a time to get my legs in front of me for inspection. One ended just below the knee with a diagonal cut, the other stopped just above the knee with a continuation of that same diagonal cut.

Oh. They were gone. 

Even being able to see them didn’t make it feel real. There wasn’t any pain, just lots of blood. 

With a few minutes of effort, I managed to grab some healing paste from my container to smear across my now stumps. The paste returned some feeling, causing my leg muscles to sting before the pain relief kicked in. 

I slumped back down into a more comfortable position, my breath running ragged in my throat. This was all too much. 

Police sirens wailed outside, the noise dulled by my makeshift tomb. I was so tired. My whole body ached, my ribs especially hurt. I stared up at the flaky paint on the base of the machine above me. I wondered what it was used for in the past. 

Darkness creeped at the edges of my vision. Maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad. 

I just wish I got to see the stars one last time. 

Chapter Text

I looked back at Raccoon; her breathing was heavy with the exertion of running. Teleporting with someone else sure would be handy right now. Where’s a powerup when a gal needs it? 

Through the skylight, far above us, a small glowing figure caught my attention. Purity. A double helix laser was already blasting out of one of her hands and heading right towards us. Another laser was going out of her other hand, destroying somewhere else at the same time. 

I shoved the kid to one side–tagging her as I did–before leaping away in the other direction. The kid fell flat on her back, causing her armour to clatter. Bricks rained down around me, one of them smashing into my head before I could teleport. I collapsed to the ground like a ragdoll. Rubble slammed down around me, cutting off my view of Raccoon just as someone turned out the lights. 

***

A beam of sunlight landed directly onto my closed eyes. I blinked awake, lifting my arm to get the darn sun out of my peepers, fragments of brick falling off me with the movement. 

After my eyes adjusted to the sudden light, I could see how dire the situation was. Most of the building had collapsed in on itself, coating the entire warehouse in a healthy layer of detritus. Without any walls, the nearby buildings were visible. Some had fared better than others, but most of the neighbourhood had been levelled. I could only hope that these were all factories and were just as abandoned as this one had been. 

Me though? My body was buried like a kid at the beach, and most of my body ached, but what else is new? Nothing was broken–at least not that I could tell–so it was alright. I pulled myself free of the loose layer of bricks and glass, shaking myself down as I stood up.

My helmet featured a fancy new dent and one less ear than it usually had. Drats, gotta replace that. No one was around, though, so it felt safe taking off my helmet to check my noggin; there was only a slight bleeding from a shallow cut. Definitely need a doctor to check me for a concussion after this. 

Did the kid make it?

I focused on my power. The kid and her surroundings lit up in my third eye, huddled away beneath one of the big mixing vats, face up. 

My mind flashed through hundreds of images, each one connected to me by an invisible muscle. There weren’t many viable options due to the limited space–I needed to curl up just to make most of them work–but it was better than nothing. 

I flexed the muscle that connected me to the position. In an instant, I appeared beneath the vat facing towards the kid, my body curled up tight to fit into the space. 

The sudden darkness took a tick to adjust to. I clicked on a pocket flashlight to illuminate the space. We were trapped in a small square of concrete with a metal grate blocking most of the exits, bar a place where someone had been stealing the metal. Rubble had filled the gap enough to reach into the middle of the square, pressed against the kid’s side. 

The kid herself was face up, coated in bits of rubble and blood. Both of her legs were severed near the knees, a glittery paste smeared across the open wounds. 

Stay calm, don’t panic. It won’t help the kid none if you get your thoughts all twisty. 

I removed a glove to check her pulse–her chainmail confused me for a second before finding a seam that let me in–a weak heartbeat thumped beneath my fingers. Good. 

I needed to communicate the situation to someone, but texts could be ignored too easily, and a phone call could go amiss during the chaos. Think, Connie, use your brain. An idea presented itself to me. Seeing no other viable options, I took it. 

“Sorry about this, Raccoon,” I said as I slid her helmet off her head, revealing a round face with a scar on the chin. Her breath fogged up a pocket mirror placed beneath her nose. Still breathing, still has a pulse. “Still alive. Good job, kid.” 

I pulled the communicator out of her ear and placed it into my own. 

How do I use this thing again? Right, button in.

“Mouse Protector using Raccoon Knight’s line. Please send medical aid and some muscle to my location immediately. Raccoon is missing both her legs and is trapped with rubble blocking the only exit. I repeat; Mouse Protector requesting medical aid and excavation efforts on Raccoon Knight’s location.” 

Remembering all the fancy terminology had never been my forté; I was sure there was a code that could summarise the situation, the trapped part, not the severed leg part, at least there better not be a code for ‘Ward with severed legs’. A voice responded over the communicator as I began to strap on my tourniquets to the kid’s legs. 

“Sending aid to you now. Is she still breathing?” A young male voice came over the communicator. Probably Clockblocker. 

He and the kid were having a spat over something she refused to talk about, and I couldn't get it out of her even if I tried. At least he was coming through for her now. 

“Shallow breathing with a weak pulse. Applying tourniquets to her legs now. Major blood loss.” 

“Does she have a head wound?” 

“Not that I can see. Had to remove her helmet to get her communicator and didn’t see any blood up there. Don’t worry, I know how to keep mum, though, I’ll take my lumps for it.” 

“Got a PRT ambulance nearby, informing them of the situation. Be back soon, MP.” 

Times like this made me wish I’d paid more attention in first aid classes. I wouldn’t forgive myself if she died because of me. 

Once both her legs were bound, I rolled to the edge of our concrete square, then crawled around the edge to get to the rubble locking us in. There wasn’t too much, but moving it might cause more to fall down. I infused a rock with my power before throwing it up out of the opening and teleporting along with it. 

With her positioning, it made the most sense to remove the vat from above her, but there was no way I could do that on my own. We needed firefighters, and a lot of them. 

I left the factory, hoping the kid would be alright on her own for a little bit. Buildings around us had been cut through in criss-crossing patterns. Most of them had caved in under their own weight, much like the factory we had gone through. Flashing lights showed me the direction the emergency services were coming from. 

My trusty flare gun ate a piece of cheese before making a big bang and bright flash. Squeaky mouse gets the peanut butter. 

Not much else to do now but wait. 

Piggot’s office reeked of corporate bullshit. How she could work in the grey and beige tomb she called a workspace, I’d never know. Miss Militia stood off to the side, waiting like a patient little lapdog, eager for Piggot to scratch her chin and tell her to shoot some innocents. 

“You’re kidding, right? She maimed a Ward and you’re not even giving her a kill order?” My voice hurt from shouting so much, though it might also have been from all the dust I inhaled.

“She’s already slated for the Birdcage. Applying a kill order to her would be a waste of time. There aren’t many in the bay that can contend with her in the first place, and placing a kill order will just encourage the reckless among you to get themselves killed, riling up Purity in the process, causing yet more damage.” Piggy’s voice was level, calm, with no dust hindering her fat lungs. 

“Her legs are gone because of that crazy bitch. Those don’t grow on trees, piggy. Send your golden boy with his Zeus spear. Send anyone! Don't just sit idly by on your fat ass and not even care about your Ward being permanently maimed.” 

“Let’s not resort to insults, Mouse Protector. You know I can’t be swayed by whoever shouts the loudest. Purity is a threat, but she’ll be dealt with. Giving her a kill order will just get stupid people killed and innocents killed in their wake. More deaths are not what we need right now.” 

“She can’t get away with this! Purity is–” 

“How about we get some food?” Miss Militia butted in. 

“Stay out of it, child killer,” I spat. She flinched, her eyes going wide. 

Piggot slammed a fat little hand against her desk. “Listen to me! That isn’t helping anyone. Go outside, take a breather, and don’t come back until you’ve cooled off. So much as grumble inside the PRT building and my officers will throw you out. Do you understand?” 

I looked between the two women, one almost red in the face with anger, the other trying to hide her emotions behind that stupid flag scarf. I had no allies here.

“Fine, but you better not stop me from seeing her when she wakes up.” I jabbed a finger towards piggy before storming out of her office. 

The faceless drones she called officers outside her door flinched as I stomped by. Cowards, the lot of them. None of them could do what it takes. Purity wasn’t invincible, no one was–not even Alexandria. She could die screaming like the worst of them. 

No one stood between me and the roof. The door was locked–probably with a Tinker made lock–but I had a power suited for infiltration and sliding a scrap piece of paper under the door to get out was child’s play. If piggy threw a fit over the breach of security, all the better. 

For a while I paced, hoping to bleed the anger and frustration away by moving. Then I tried the meditation my mom kept preaching to me. Close your eyes, be one with the world, and breathe. Let it all go, washed down the stream. I opened my eyes angrier than I had been when I closed them. 

“Fuck it, where’s the nearest store?” 

***

Convenience stores at sunset always felt like a little pocket of limbo transported to reality. Time felt different here, like everything else faded away and all that remained was slurpees, chips, and cigarettes. 

I returned to a forgotten habit like greeting an old friend at the airport. Three cigarettes later, I felt calmer–my lungs felt shitty, but I felt better. The last of the packet went into a beggar’s hat; even if he didn’t smoke he could sell them. 

I kicked a rock down the street, ignoring the passing stares. People around here didn’t know me as well as back home, but I was still stopped for the occasional autograph or picture. I didn’t mind being treated like a celebrity most of the time since it let me meet so many faces. Right now, I just wanted to be away from it all. 

I walked nowhere in particular, just walking for walking sake. Before I knew it, I found myself on the outskirts of Brockton Bay, staring up at the ‘Now Leaving’ sign. Even out here the gangs had graffitied any available surface. What a shithole. 

Did I really want to leave? Running away again, Connie? 

I felt back to my escape stone, the one I had dropped off the PRT building before getting a smoke, and basked in the new sense. A dome of possible places filled my brain, expanding out as far as my arm’s reach. Something in my psyche churned, processing the conflicting emotions. 

Running away would be so much simpler. You didn’t need to explain things, to talk to anyone, to face the consequences, if you just ran. Raccoon would be fine without me, she was shaping up to be a great hero. 

My heart ached at the idea of leaving her behind. She’d be so hurt by it. Right, I’d seen her face; if I ran right now they’d call me a potential breach and sue the heck out of me. 

Better not put the kid through more than she’s already been through. No doubt about it, time to face my lumps. 

Two faceless PRT officers stood outside of Raccoon Knight’s room. One held a hand out to me as they turned my way. 

“We can’t let you in right now, Mouse Protector,” she said, sounding surprisingly young. Guess they’re hiring any warm bodies these days. 

“Why not?” 

“Director Piggot has requested your presence in her office.” 

“That’s not an excuse. Why exactly am I being kept out?” 

“I’m just following orders, ma’am. Only authorised personnel are allowed in right now, and you’re not one of them.” 

I tutted. No use pushing, she was just doing her job. And it wouldn't do any good to break more rules. “Fine, fine. I’ll go to the pig pen.” 

I set off for the elevator, bracing myself for the inevitable shouting match  with Director Sitsonherassallday. Piggy didn’t take kindly to people opposing her, I knew her type and I wasn’t afraid to fight back with people like her. It was inevitable that we’d be at each other’s throats. 

I almost barged directly into her office before thinking twice. She was right about one thing, this wasn’t helping anyone, especially not the kid. Maybe I could bite my tongue for once, at least for a little bit. Breaching Raccoon’s identity had been under extenuating circumstances, but I had still done it. Buttering up the bacon for a little bit might make her go a little easier on me. 

I sighed before knocking at the door. 

“Come in.” Piggot sounded tired, which wasn’t what I had been expecting. 

I walked inside, even waiting patiently like a meek little mouse for her to tell me to sit. 

“Director, what did you want to talk to me about?” 

She flashed me a knowing look before smirking ever so slightly. “Would you like the good first, or the bad?” 

“Bad.” 

“Alright. You breached the identity of one of my Wards. A criminal offence, as I’m sure you’re aware.” She steepled her fingers. 

“I’m aware.” I bit back my further comment, letting her control the conversation for a little longer. 

“Then you realise how serious this is. Good. Tell me, Mouse Protector,” saying my name like it was dogshit on her shoe, “why didn’t you use the emergency channel on Raccoon Knight’s phone? Surely you knew about it, having been a Ward.” 

Damnit. 

“I would have… if I remembered that feature, and knew where Raccoon Knight kept her phone.” 

“I can concede the point to that. After this meeting  someone will brief you on the emergency channel usage for a PRT assigned phone so we don’t have a repeat of this incident. As far as charges are concerned… there won’t be any. Despite your leaving the Wards program, you've proven to be a trustworthy hero. That being said, Raccoon Knight herself can still press charges. She woke up an hour ago, that’s the good news, by the way. I’ll ask her personally how she feels about it, and then we can move forward from there.” Piggot slid open a drawer, grabbing a legal document inside to slide over the desk to me. “The traditional non-disclosure agreement. I’m sure you’ve signed a million in your time.” 

I scanned over the familiar document before signing my cape name. 

Piggot took the document, storing it away in her ‘outgoing’ box. “Good. I will speak with Raccoon Knight about this issue, and then–assuming she isn’t pressing charges–we can arrange for a visitation pass. Give me an hour. In that time I recommend you get some food from the cafeteria–frankly, you look like you need it.” 

Piggot pulled herself out of her chair. I stood up myself, opening the door, even going so far as to hold it open for her. She thanked me before waddling off down the hallway. 

As I turned to leave she looked back at me, “Oh, and Mouse Protector. Thank you for saving my Ward.” Piggot turned back then walked away, leaving me stunned. 

Can’t say I ever expected anyone in the PRT to thank me. Guess there’s a time for everything. 

Raccoon Knight sat upright in the uncomfortable looking hospital bed, a domino mask covering her upper face. She twirled a strand of her wild hair in her fingers, while her other hand tapped against her thigh. Her eyes were sad, but then the kid looked over to me and she perked up almost entirely. 

“Mouse Protector! They said you were coming.” Her smile lit up the room, unapologetically bright. 

“Hey kid.” I patted her on the arm. “How’re you feeling?”

Her legs lifted up under the blanket. “Like half a girl.” She frowned, staring at what remained of her legs.

I tapped her arm with my fist. “Less of that. You’re still one-hundred percent a hero. Besides, it’s more like three-quarters of a whole girl, not half.” 

She snorted, making me instantly feel better about making a joke. Some people didn’t respond well to humour in dark situations. 

“They’re gonna cover it up. Raccoon Knight officially didn’t lose her legs, and no one will say otherwise. Mead–my civilian identity… she loses her legs during Purity’s attack as collateral damage.” 

“Is that smart, putting your civilian identity so close to your cape one? People would've seen us running from Purity.” 

She shook her head. “I’ve no idea. They said something about it being a good cover, people don’t look in obvious places?” Raccoon Knight shrugged a single shoulder. “Everyone already treated me like a kid, now I’ll get people treating me like a cripple too.” 

“Don’t use ‘cripple’, it’s offensive.”

“Sorry.”

“Either way, does it matter? Those that treat you that way clearly don’t respect you. Even if you manage to change yourself in a positive way, it isn’t going to make them respect you instantly. Remember: negativity should be slippery thoughts, not sticky ones. Don’t let people like that get you down.” 

I watched as she chewed on the thoughts. Seeing her face made it a lot easier to read her, every single thought and emotion showed clearly on her expressive face. Unlike her body language, her face was an open book.

“I don’t know. I think it matters, even if it shouldn’t. Moving past negative things is harder than just doing it… or maybe I just suck at it.” 

“Nah. It ain’t easy.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, turning my body to partially face her. “I talk a big game but even I still get caught up on them sometimes.” 

“You’re missing an ear!” 

The dented portion of my helmet was facing towards her now. She hadn’t made eye contact with me the entire time so she hadn’t noticed. I pressed a hand against the caved in metal. 

“Yeah, I need to get it fixed. Took a bit of brick to the noggin, good thing I had the helmet.” 

Raccoon Knight’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas. “I could make you a new one!” 

“You don’t need to do that, I’ve got a blacksmith friend who–” Her face dropped, hurting my heart in the process. Damnit, kid, why do you gotta have those puppy dog eyes? “Y’know what? I’d love for you to make my helmet, so long as you use that fancy alloy you’re always going on about.” 

Her face snapped back to pure childlike joy. “Okay, I can do that!” 

Seeing her happy made me happy. God, I missed Sam. She reminded me so much of him, right down to the unrelenting optimism. I shook away the stupid nostalgia, focusing instead on the present, on moving forward. 

“We can work out some designs in the future, but first you need to focus on getting yourself new legs.” 

“I don’t want to. I’ll let Armsmaster make them.” 

“What? You can’t let that bumbling bag of bolts make your limbs! Any Tinker worth their salt should be making their own limbs, with the customisations that they choose. Kid, you’re like a whole salt deposit when it comes to Tinkering. You made me my nifty taser punchers, and you made your whole arsenal, why wouldn’t you wanna make your legs? You could put rocket boosters in them, or a pez dispenser!” 

Raccoon Knight shook her head, causing her hair to tumble down around her which she didn’t bother to brush away. “I can’t… no more bio-tinkering… never again.” 

Something was off about that.

“Kid, who told you you’re not allowed to bio-tinker? The PRT doesn’t mind you doing it, so long as you go through the approval process. Back when I was in the Wards we had a girl called ‘Jettison’ who basically made every individual part of her into some kind of gadget. She’d be in the middle of a battle dropping off bits of her body to do whatever tech-crud she needed.” 

“Ma’am did… or at least I think she did. She assigned me a handler to make sure I never did it again… like my finger.” 

“Your mom told you that? Is she high-ranking in the PRT?” 

“Piggot isn’t my mom, and I think she’s high-ranking?” 

“Director Piggot? Why’d you call her mom?” 

“I said ma’am ,” she enunciated the word, “she told me to call her that.” 

My sudden burst of laughter caught the kid off-guard. 

“No, kid, she meant address her as ma’am, not that her name was ma’am,” I explained after I managed to bite back my laughter. “You say ‘yes, ma’am’ or ‘no, ma’am’ but you still call her Director Piggot.” 

“That’s… confusing.” 

“You never had to call a teacher sir? Same deal.” 

“My mom–my old mom, not my new one–took me out of school.” 

She’d explained before that she had been fostered, though I didn’t know the name of her foster parents; I just hadn’t really thought about why. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Well, I’m glad you’re away from her. Sounds like a real see you next tuesday.” 

The kid looked at me with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you leaving? Why’d you say it like that?” 

I snickered. “No, I'm not leaving, and don’t worry about it. What did you mean earlier, about your finger?” 

She cast her eyes down, locking her stare on the thin hospital blanket. 

“Woah, hey, it’s alright. You don’t need to tell me.” 

Her lips squeezed together before she sighed a resigned sigh. “No, it’s fine. Just don’t freak out, okay?” 

“Alright…” 

Raccoon held out her right hand, a bandage covered her palm, leaving her fingers free. She pressed a thumb against the middle joint of her middle finger. The top of her finger folded out on a hinge like a zippo lighter. A small mechanical frame filled out a small capsule container. Bits of muscle were visible on the edges of the metal casing. 

“You did this to yourself?”

Raccoon Knight bobbed her head. “Yeah.” 

“How’d you do the surgery?” 

“I used some leather shears to cut off the finger, then used a screwdriver to dig out the space for the capsule. My healing paste numbed the pain a lot, but it still hurt. Then I reattached the nerves using the ones from a… a rat…” 

“Holy shit, kid, that’s hardcore!” She’d done surgery on herself using tools that were definitely not meant for surgery, and had managed to still keep the feeling in her finger. I wasn’t a squeamish person, but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t do that to myself even with my nerves of steel. 

“That’s…” Raccoon Knight scrunched up her face, glancing up at me for a moment. “Not what I expected you to say.” 

“What’d you even use that thing for?” 

“I filled it with a liquid form of my stink paste. It was inside a medicine capsule so there weren’t any leaks.” 

“You chopped off your finger to give yourself a one-time use fart spray?” I laughed hard enough to hurt my stomach again. “Kid, that’s genius. I can’t believe you went through all that just to make a one-time use thing. Imagine what you could do with your legs, with permanent devices!” 

She smiled a little, finally moving the hair out of her face. “Jettison,” she said the word as if trying it out for the first time, “did she do something similar?” 

“Yep! Though she used a surgery robot and anaesthesia to do it. She wasn’t hardcore enough to lop off her finger on what may as well be pain meds. Every single part of her fingers did a different thing. She even had spare digits stored away in case she lost some during a fight.” I smiled at the memories. 

“I’m allowed to bio-tinker…” the kid muttered, more to herself than to me. 

“You should run it by the head honcho first, just to be safe, but I’m pretty sure you’re allowed. What’re you gonna install in your new legs?” 

Raccoon Knight hummed in thought. “Maybe stretchy legs, so I can walk faster. Or a cannon of some kind, I have a t-shirt cannon lying around somewhere. Maybe legs that can split up into more, so that I can climb up walls like a spider?” She listed more ideas, dimming off to a murmur by the end of it as she got caught up in her own thoughts. 

I got up to grab some water for the both of us, as well as to stretch my legs. When I got back I found her with a sad look on her face. Guess a pep talk wasn’t going to fix a new trauma. Baby steps. 

“Piggot told me you saw my face,” she said, catching me off-guard with the topic.

“Uh, yeah, I did. Sorry, kid,” I placed down the paper cups on the bedside table. 

Raccoon Knight smiled at me. “It’s alright. I trust you with my secret identity!” 

Something squeezed at my heart. “I don’t mind if you don’t. Secret identities are important.” 

She pulled off her domino mask, then stretched out a hand for me to shake, “My name’s Meadow. Nice to meet ya!” 

I shook her hand, pulling off my dented helmet with the other. “Connie. Nice to meet you too.” 

Chapter Text

“Fine, but you better not stop me from seeing her when she wakes up.” Mouse Protector jabbed a finger towards Piggot before storming out of her office, slamming the door as she left. 

Miss Militia sighed. She had expected Mouse Protector to at least act civil for one conversation, but then again, the woman hadn’t proven capable of being so in the past 20 years. 

“Permission to speak candidly, ma’am?” Miss Militia stood to attention before addressing Director Piggot.

“Granted.” 

“I agree with her, Purity should have a kill order.”

“In an ideal world I could do that, but we do not live in an ideal world. We need to remain cautious of collateral damage.” 

In an ideal world, people like Purity wouldn’t exist, Miss Militia mused. 

“What if I volunteered?” She asked. 

Piggot smiled, a rare sight. “I had called you back here for a reason, and it wasn’t to be insulted by Mouse Protector.” 

She produced a document from beneath a pile of others, then placed it facing Miss Militia. 

“As you can see here, this kill order is already dated. Unfortunately, it is missing my signature. Now, I would be willing to sign it, given the right… circumstances.” 

Miss Militia understood immediately. “Consider it done.” 

Planning an assassination attempt in less than an hour could be considered reckless. Had time not been of the essence, Miss Militia would have been a lot more meticulous in her planning. As it stood, she had one shot at this, and most likely one shot from her rifle before Purity turned her into purée. 

Dragon had offered tracking drones that were designed to follow high-speed missiles. They spread out across the city into key locations, mostly around the Docks, feeding their information to a headset Miss Militia wore. 

The PRT had plants inside the Empire, they’d been told to spread rumours of the location of Purity’s child, Aster. To make things more believable they’d fed that same information to the Empire members who had infiltrated the PRT. Soon, everyone in the Empire would know the safehouse they had hidden the child in, and hopefully any thinkers they had on hand wouldn’t catch on that they had escorted Aster and the officers guarding her away ten minutes ago. 

All Miss Militia needed to do now was wait, her rifle trained on the entrance to the building on the outskirts of Brockton Bay. She herself was situated on an office building half a mile away, laid down on the gravel roof for what she anticipated to be a long time. Long stakeouts had prepared her well for the sniper’s nest, she took to it like a fish to water. 

The roof of the office building featured a garden with a plant-covered wooden trellis. It wasn’t the greatest cover–especially not from a flyer–but the plants blocked the sun, casting her in shade. Hopefully it would be enough to stop Purity noticing as she flew by. 

Waiting suited Miss Militia. She thrived on orders, liking that they gave her direction without thought. Lying in wait on a stakeout to gather a crumb of information meant that the orders extended further than they normally would. A purpose without pause. Being in the sniper’s nest at Piggot’s behest was no different.

Purity had stopped in an alleyway, if Miss Militia had more men she could have set up trained eyes across the city to take a shot whenever Purity stopped. Adding more people, especially under such a tight timeframe, meant more points of failure, more collateral damage. 

Miss Militia steeled her resolve, pushing aside thoughts of ‘what ifs’ and focused on the now. She had one opportunity to wipe the Scion wannabe from the face of the planet, and she couldn’t fuck it up or she would be dead. 

Who knows what Purity would do if she found she’d been tricked. 

Something was wrong. Purity’s blip was hurtling right towards the safehouse. Their moles couldn’t have spread the information fast enough for her to have heard it already. Miss Militia hesitated before deciding to refresh the trackers. They’d be offline for precious moments, but she needed to know if this was real. 

Moments passed, the wind rustling through the plants surrounding her. The scanners came back online, the blip that represented Purity was only a block away. 

Miss Militia’s whole body tensed up as she waited for Purity to notice her, to evaporate her in an instant. That moment never came. 

The glowing woman zipped by the building, making a beeline straight towards Dale and Emerson. Miss Militia tracked her, grateful for the anti-glare scope. It made it hard to see much at all, just sharp outlines in a deep-grey world, but Purity lit up as if it was heat vision. 

A young-looking blonde woman clad in a purple costume gripped to Purity’s side, her hair dishevelled from the wind. Tattletale, if Miss Militia’s memory served her right. She was a member of the Undersiders who claimed to be ‘psychic’. They’d chalked her power up to some kind of weak point analyser. People or machines, she could figure out how to break into, or break them. 

Rumour had it that the Undersiders had leaked the Empire’s identities in a bid for power. Tattletale’s power must have provided Purity’s weak point in Aster then provided the information she needed to guide her away from her team. 

Her presence explained how Purity found them so fast.  

The duo touched ground just outside of the front entrance. Tattletale stretched a little, jabbing a thumb towards the door of the building. 

Miss Militia already had her scope aligned as Purity’s hand began to glow. She squeezed the trigger. A resounding explosion of gunpowder cracked around her, muffled by her ear protection. The bullet sailed through the air faster than sound, meeting Purity’s centre of mass before she could even raise her arms to fire her lasers. Her chest exploded out, splattering blood up the safehouse, and Tattletale. 

The teenage supervillain flinched, teetering backwards. She glanced around before looking up at Miss Militia, offering a meek wave. 

Tattletale wasn’t her target right now, she wasn’t even worth the bullet. 

Miss Militia left the rooftop, feeling nothing but the satisfaction of a clean shot. 

Chapter Text

Connie removed her helmet, revealing a square face with sharp features, as well as unstyled short wheat blonde hair that contrasted her dark skin. Her sharp jawline featured a few small scars, reminding me of the one on my chin. She smiled at me.

“Well, take it all in, kid. A face fit for radio,” Connie chuckled. I didn’t get the joke. 

“You look like a knight! That’s so cool!” 

Connie flinched a little, her smile faltering before returning bigger than before. 

“Aw, shucks.” She batted a hand at me, covering a cheek with her other hands. “You’re gonna make me blush.” 

“I wish my face screamed ‘fighter’, it’s too pudgy.” I squished my cheeks to demonstrate. 

“Warriors come in all sorts and shapes. Besides, it’s just baby fat, you’ll look different in your twenties.”

I grinned at her. “What did you look like when you were fourteen?” 

“God, I had more red spots than a mini-pepperoni pizza. You could play connect the dots on my face.” Connie snorted. “Tried every wife's tale, every single ointment or cream, to try to get rid of them. Nothing worked. Then, they just started to go away as I got older.” She shrugged. “I looked the same as I do now, just add acne. Oh, and braces.” 

“What’re braces?” 

“Metal framework they use to straighten your teeth. Mine grew in wrong.” 

I ran my tongue over my own teeth. They were okay, not perfect but okay. Mom had taken me to a ‘dentist’ when we had first met to get me checked over. Someone shoving metal objects in your mouth wasn’t a pleasant experience, and I had refused to go back to get a ‘filling’, whatever that was. She sighed and said ‘We’ll try again later’. 

“Hm, I guess I never really thought about it. Teeth are just teeth. So long as they’re healthy it’s okay, right?” 

Connie patted me on the arm. “Exactly right, my young disciple. Don’t bully people for things out of their control. I had a friend whose parents failed to teach her the routine, so her teeth were falling apart. It’s a hard habit to get into when you weren’t raised on it. Did your mom–old mom–teach you?” 

I shook my head. “I learnt from TV that I should do it, and the toothbrush was kind of soothing so I just never stopped.”

Connie shook her head, tutting a little. “Figures. Well, glad you learnt at least, keep it up.” 

A knock at the door startled us. Connie grabbed her helmet while I placed my black mask back on. The plastic moulded to the shape of my eyes, snapping into place without any straps. I didn’t like the way it felt, but they had refused to let me wear my helmet.

Once she had her helmet on, I called out, “Come in.” 

Kid Win entered, his eyes never looking in our direction as he stepped inside then closed the door. He wheeled a chair with wheels attached to it into the room behind him, spinning it on the spot to face towards us as he looked up. His head rocked back a little. “Woah, didn’t expect MP.” 

He stepped forwards, leaving the chair behind, with a hand outstretched. “It’s an honour to meet you, Mouse Protector. I’m Kid Win, one of the Wards for the PRT East-North-East.” 

Connie, or Mouse Protector since she had her helmet on, took his hand, shaking it so hard I worried it might pop off. “Pleasure to meetcha! I’m the big cheese herself, the mouse that moonlights as a kickbutt hero.” 

Kid Win mouth stretched out into a line as he endured the arm wrenching handshake. That meant surprise, I think. I’d gotten better at reading facial cues using only half a face thanks to so many heroes wearing a mask that covered either the top or bottom of their face. 

After about thirty seconds, Kid Win realised that Mouse Protector wasn’t going to stop shaking anytime soon. He pulled his arm away, chuckling a little as he rubbed the back of his head. Mouse Protector looked from me to him. 

“I need a coffee. I’ll leave you kids to talk.” She nudged Kid Win with her elbow, whispering something to him as she left the room. I wish I had my radio so I could have heard it. 

Kid Win cleared his throat. “Yeah… Uh… Anyway, I’ve got something for you, Knight.” 

He walked back over to the wheeled-chair, pushing it closer to the bed. 

“It’s not much, but they needed to move you soon anyway so I fast-tracked it. 

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.” 

“I wanted to, don’t worry. As you can see.” He tapped a metal cylinder attached to a metal arm resting on the back of the seat. “I added an anti-gravity module inspired by that thing you made when I met you. 

“Kiki.”

“Yeah, Kiki. It'll be useful for grabbing stuff from high up without having to ask for help. I know how undignified asking for help with basic tasks is.” 

“I don’t usually mind it, but thank you. Independence is nice.” 

Kid Win smirked, “Real American. Anyway, there’s a storage area on the back, and one in the arm.” He tapped a square of plastic on the arm, it opened up revealing a small compartment. “Same on the other arm.” 

“Good place for snacks.”

He grinned. “Yeah, fit a lot of candy in there. We’ve also suped up the wheels to have better traction, they should even work on ice. Brockton Bay weather and all, nice to have.” 

I bobbed my head to show I was listening as I inspected the chair. 

“The control module has a joystick-” He gestured to a stick poking out of one of the armrests, “-like a regular electric wheelchair, but you can also program basic tasks into it–like ‘go forward’ or ‘do a cool spin’.” He twirled his finger around. 

“Cool. I don’t really know how to program, maybe you could teach me sometime?” 

“Oh, sure, I mean I only know some HTML but I don’t mind. But, in this case, I just mean you can set it to ‘record’ and then it’ll playback that recording with certain parameters, like ‘loop’ or ‘play once’. No actual coding on your end.” 

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah.” Kid Win nodded his head for a couple of seconds, his eyes staring at nothing. “The gravity module is kinda expensive-” He continued out of the blue, “-so we also added a lift thingy.” 

He tapped a button next to the joystick, causing the whole chair to lift up as if on stilts. It raised just past the height of my hospital bed. 

“Not super high, but enough that you could reach further.”

“Maybe for you, my arms are pretty short.” I stretched them out to demonstrate. 

He chuckled, “Yeah, need to get you extendo-arms to really give you reach. This’ll let you reach higher than sitting down, at least. There’s also a locking mechanism in case you don’t wanna be moved, as well as an alarm so that no one will steal it. We can activate a tracking system if some idiot tries to but it won’t be active at all until then, so don’t worry about an invasion of privacy. What else…” 

“That’s cool, but I have a question.” 

“Sure, shoot.” 

“What is this for?” 

Kid Win stared at me for a long second with no obvious emotion on his face. “It’s a wheelchair. So you can get around in your civilian life. The PRT will be giving it to you–as well as paying your medical bills–as compensation for Purity… y’know.” He nodded with his head towards my lack of legs. 

Wheelchair felt like a silly name, a bit on the nose. He should have called her something cool, like Vivi, the Chariot. I’d definitely need to talk to Chris about his naming conventions. 

“Won’t this make people think I have some connection to the PRT?” 

“Knight, your mom is in the PRT, right? She’s an officer. They’ll think she pulled some strings, at worst.” 

“Oh… good point.” 

We sat in silence for a moment. Kid Win opened his mouth as if he was gonna speak but shut it before he did. 

“So… yeah, it’s all yours.” He gave me a queasy looking smile, gesturing to Vivi with both his arms. “They’re gonna use it to get you to a regular hospital tomorrow so civilians can visit you or something. All I know is that they had me rush job it. Oh! Everything is modular, you can just take pieces out and slot new ones in. Batteries are the same, which means they’re super easy to replace. Nothing will fall out accidentally, though, don’t worry, Armsmaster made sure of that. He replaced my entire setup when he checked it over for deficiencies. Guess he found a lot of them, it took an hour just for him to finish… Which actually reminds me, I’ve been meaning to thank you.” 

“Thank me?” 

“I didn’t know my speciality until I saw the way you slotted stuff together. After that it just kind of clicked. Well, it’s nice not having that nagging at me. Didn’t help as much as I expected, but oh well. Thank you.” 

“No problem? I mean, I don’t think I did anything, so maybe you should be thanking yourself more.” 

Kid Win smiled a half-smile. “Nah, I was stuck on that forever. Maybe you can help me on a project or two once Armsaster and Dragon finish your legs, might help me with my other issues too.” 

“Armsmaster and the Dragon are making me legs?!” 

Chris’ mouth dropped open in shock. “Shit! Sorry, that was supposed to be a surprise. They need a lot of time to work on them, so maybe just forget about it and pretend I never told you?” 

“Pretend? Dragon is making my legs! How could I ever forget that?!” 

Kid Win held his hands out to me, “Hey, quiet down, there’s people in the other room, and outside the door.” 

“Sorry,” I whispered, unable to fight the giant grin on my face. Dragon was the greatest Tinker in the world, and she was making a random Brocktonite girl legs? Wait, that didn’t make any sense. My grin faded. 

“Why is she making me legs? Isn’t she from Canada?” 

“She is. Part of The Guild. She’s also a friend of Armsmaster, they make stuff together every now and then. Aegis told me she had even volunteered some mechs to clean up the city. Can’t wait to see them. Imagine how much we could learn from someone like her.” 

“That makes sense, I guess. I feel bad, though, what if it distracts her from her important projects? I can make my own legs later, I don’t need the greatest tinker in the world to make them. Same with Armsmaster, he’s usually too busy with a million different projects, there’s no way he has time for this.” 

Kid Win shrugged. “Not your choice to make. They’re adults, they can probably schedule stuff well. Don’t worry about it, just be thankful.” 

Did adults know how to schedule well? My old mom had never been good at keeping a schedule. She’d complained to me a lot about missing appointments because she wanted to sleep more. Maybe she was a bad example, like she was with everything else. 

My new mom, my actual mom, kept a strict schedule. She’d wake up every day at the same time, have breakfast ready at the same time, be exactly where her schedule calendar said she’d be. My head felt dizzy just thinking about remembering all those times and places. I guess adult brains are better at keeping information. I sort of wish I could dissect one, it would be interesting to see how it differs from a teenager’s brain. 

Kid Win patted my bed, breaking me out of my thoughts. “So… Well, I’m gonna go.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the door. “Hope your recovery goes well, and all that. Bye.” 

“Bye.” I waved as he left. Mouse Protector slipped in before the door could close, holding two paper cups filled with a steaming liquid. 

“Hey there, kid. Got you a coffee.” She stretched one of the cups over to me, a bitter smell wafted from it. 

“I’ve never had coffee.” 

“Alright, then I got you a hot chocolate and I got myself a second coffee.” She pulled back the coffee to offer me the hot chocolate. I took it in both hands, being careful to not spill the hot liquid. 

“I’ve never had hot chocolate either.” 

“Now that’s just sad. Do you like chocolate?” 

“Yes.”

“Milk?”

“Sure.” 

“Then you’re golden, drink up. Be careful though, it’s hot.” 

Mouse Protector slumped down into the comfortable chair beside the bed. Mom had sat there for hours after my surgery, our fingers had become numb from holding hands for so long. She’d headed home to grab an overnight bag after Mouse Protector asked to come see me. 

She sipped at the coffee, staring at a poster on the wall across from us. The poster detailed something about a full body checkup. 

“Preys on hypochondriacs, those.” She gestured to the poster with her cup. 

“What’s that?” 

“People who–doesn't matter. Fancy kicks, kid.” She tapped the wheelchair with her foot. “Looks like someone strapped sci-fi crap to a wheelchair.” 

Oh, maybe Kid Win hadn’t called her ‘wheelchair’, that was just the name of the object. I hid my blush by looking out the window. 

“Yeah, Kid Win made it for me. Said the PRT was giving it to my civilian identity as an apology for Purity deciding I looked better without legs.” 

Mouse Protector snorted. “Better than they usually do. You should lawyer up, kid, squeeze them for a bit more.” 

“I don’t want to do that. The PRT has been good to me for the most part. Even if they keep telling me no.” 

“That’s why it’s all the better to squeeze them for what they’re worth before you inevitably piss them off.” 

“What? Why would I do that?” 

Mouse Protector set her drink aside, shifting the chair to face me better. “Listen, kid, you’re a walking PR nightmare. You know what you want, and you go for it, that’s the thing I like the most about you. But these stiffs-” She gestured to the room around her, “-they don’t like that. They’re a hammer and every problem to them is a nail, and you’re a… tank. They can’t hammer you down, no matter how much they want to, but they can beat through your hull if they keep going for long enough.” Mouse Protector shook her head. “That metaphor fell apart, but what I’m saying is that they won’t ever go easy on you, they won’t ever let up. You’ll be battling against them the entire time you’re a Ward, then the entire time you’re at the Protectorate. Trust me, I’m speaking from personal experience here. They’ll beat you down until you stop trying.” 

I rolled the thin blanket between my fingers. Was I just annoying the people around me with every question, every demand? Did Piggot stress over me, waiting for me to hurt myself or someone else in my stupidity? All I wanted was to fit in, to understand the people around, to help people. Maybe the gap between myself and normal people couldn’t be bridged. Did that mean I wouldn’t ever truly connect with Mouse Protector, with Connie? Was I doomed to piss off Mel, Abi, and Taffy? 

My legs were gone, probably forever. Panacea’s waiting list made it unlikely I’d see her for months, and when I did she’d probably spit in my face at how disgusting I was. They were gone forever because I hadn’t understood, because I didn’t listen to Miss Militia. 

Mom told me that being different doesn't mean I’m broken. She told me that the world is hard but I can get through it with people. My friends cared about me, despite our short time together. Vista had been speaking to me more, she’d even visited me after I woke up before she went back out to patrol. 

Deep breath in. 

Feel the blanket beneath your fingers, the scratchy material that keeps distracting you. The rush of air from the air conditioner across the room. 

Deep breath out. 

“Then I’ll keep trying.” 

I looked over to Mouse Protector. She looked up to my eyes, her eyebrows creased in concern. 

“That’s noble, kid, but it won’t work. They–” 

Someone knocked at the door. Mouse Protector touched her helmet as if she had to make sure it was still there. 

“Come in,” I said. 

A PRT officer entered, their smoothless mask was easy to make eye contact with even knowing that there was a face behind there. 

He nodded to me, then turned to Mouse Protector. “Raccoon Knight’s guardian has arrived, we need you to vacate the room, ma’am.” The PRT officer said in a masculine voice. 

Mouse Protector ignored him, turning to me. “Whelp, looks like time’s up. I’ll come visit tomorrow, alright?” She slapped her hands on her knees before standing up, she offered a hand to me. 

I took her hand, pulling her into a hug. She startled a little, patting my back as if unsure what to do in a hug. After a moment we broke away. 

“Oh, though I’m not sure I’ll be here tomorrow. I think they’re transferring me to a civilian hospital.” 

“Ah, guess I’ll text you then. Maybe we can arrange for something later.” She turned to leave before turning back. “Knight, just so you know, I’ll be busy this week. Ravager cropped back up, she’s been seen with the Empire. Thought she got the message the first time. Take care of yourself.” 

I nodded. “You too. Do your best with Ravager!” I gave her a thumbs up and a bright smile. 

She grinned back. “Yeah, don’t worry your little raccoon socks, I’ll make sure she gets the message loud and clear.” 

Mouse Protector left with a jovial wave. 

My face fell, the emotions leaving me. I was stuck in here when I could be helping her with Ravager. If I had just been a little faster, a little quicker, I might still have my legs. An early warning system could have helped, some way to track incoming danger. Elel might be capable but she suffered by not being directly connected to me. Maybe I could hook her up to my brain.

Knowing I was–probably–free to modify my biology, I had almost infinite ideas of how I could improve myself. Extendo-arms like Kid Win suggested seemed a good place to start. 

I opened up my laptop and started writing down ideas. 

Chapter Text

Abi leapt onto my bed, grasping me into a deathgrip of a hug that made it hard to breathe.

“Meadow! Oh gosh we were so worried!” Her voice was muffled by her face being buried into my shoulder. 

“Sorry… Could you let go? Kinda hurts,” I wheezed out the words. 

“No! I’m never letting go!” 

Mel stepped forward, grabbing both of Abi’s shoulders in her strong hands to pry her out of the hug. After a moment of struggle, she managed to get Abi free of me.

I took in a deep breath of stale hospital air, thankful I could breathe again. “Thanks, Mel.” 

Mel had hooked her arms under Abi’s armpits, holding her in an inescapable lock. No matter how much she squirmed or wriggled, she wasn’t getting free. 

“Lemme go!” 

Mel shushed her. “Keep your voice down! We’re in a hospital, you maniac.” 

“Lemme go!” Abi yelled again. 

Sighing, Mel let the smaller girl go. Abi flung herself over me into another–less deadly–hug. 

“You lost your legs, Meadow!” She sounded like she was about to cry.

“I’m okay, Abi. Promise. Who needs legs anyway?” 

“How can you be so calm? Everyone needs legs!”

“I got a fancy wheelchair out of it.” I gestured to the tinker-made wheelchair at my bedside. 

Mel placed a warm hand over my own. “It’s alright if you’re not okay. I can’t imagine going through that. You don’t need to be brave around us.” 

“Yeah, Meadow, it’s okay to cry! I cry all the time. Just yesterday I cried while eating Haribos because I felt bad eating the little alligators.” 

Mel rolled her eyes. “You lost your legs… I’m still not sure how to process that even after seeing it in person. I didn’t believe your mom on the phone at all. I… I called her a liar.” She rubbed the back of her neck, a blush creeping up to her cheeks.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’m more worried about getting back to school, or my internship.”

“You need to rest, not worry about school.” Mel squeezed my hand. 

“Oh!” Abi leapt up, pulling her backpack off her shoulders before rummaging around inside of it to produce a few pieces of paper. 

“Mrs. Wilkins gave us your homework, and a reading assignment to give you. She says you don’t need to do them, she just wanted to give you them in case you got bored or something, but why would you wanna do schoolwork when bored and not play a game?” Abi waved her arms around as she spoke, eventually smacking Mel with the papers who yanked them out of her hand. 

“Watch it,” Mel warned her, placing the papers on my bedside. 

“Sorry! Oh, we have a card from Taffy too.”

She handed me a pink flowery card that had a ‘Get well soon’ message from Taffy. A few people had given me cards on my birthday, and I had a small selection of cards on my hospital bedside table. They still confused me, I wasn’t sure why I needed them or what purpose they served. 

“Could she not make it?” I asked, placing the card with the rest. 

Abi leaned in close, placing a hand up to the side of her mouth, “She’s crazy scared of hospitals,” she whispered. 

“Oh. I’ll text her later, then. How’re you two?” 

“Forget about us, how’re you?” Mel said, Abi nodded along in agreement. 

“I’m fine, I told you. Why do you keep asking me?” 

“Because it doesn’t make any sense to be ‘fine’ right now. God, Meadow, you’ve lost your legs and you’re acting like it’s any other day.”

“Smelly Melly’s right, you’re kinda freaking me out with how normal this is. Have you lost your legs before?” 

“Don’t call me–whatever.” 

I shrugged, unsure of how to phrase my thoughts. Losing my legs sucked, sure, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Legs could always be remade, and Panacea would eventually get to me to regrow them. Focusing on bad stuff just makes you only notice the bad stuff. Plus, I could even add a few extra inches to my height to help with my weapon reach. 

“I just… I don’t know. Having legs is nice and all, but I just want to move on. And I’m not ignoring the bad stuff like I did before, I’m just focusing on the good. I’ll get prosthetics eventually, and the PRT gave me a cool wheelchair that has a gravity field! Why would I wanna be sad about losing my legs? It’d just make me feel, well, sad. Better to be happy, right?”

Both of them furrowed their brows in concern. Abigail recovered quicker, swapping to a bright grin. 

“Being happy is good, I agree! Wanna play cards?” 

“Sure.” I welcomed the distraction.

Abi grabbed a deck of cards from her backpack, setting them up on the wooden board I used for my food. She explained the rules of the game, and then explained them again when I didn’t understand, and then explained them again because she forgot if she explained them right. 

Mel joined in, but kept sneaking glances at me the entire time with a serious look on her face. I wasn’t sure why she was still so worried. Running from Purity, hiding beneath that vat, both of those had been scarier than losing my legs. My heartbeat quickened a little at the flash of memories. I took a deep, calming breath, to steady my nerves. Choosing instead to focus on my friends and our game. 

Heather ran a hand through the sleeping Meadow’s wild mane. Gentle snores filled the near silent hospital room. 

Fresh out of military service and right into the PRT she had been eager to please her commanding officers and prove her worth. When they came asking for someone to temporarily care for a Ward of the state, she had agreed before she even thought of the consequences. 

Throughout the psych evaluations, the copious amounts of paperwork, and the invasive questions asked of her, she kept thinking she should drop out. They’d understand, but they’d think less of her. They’d think she wasn’t able to commit to the things she pledged to do. Her pride had been on the line and she had stuck with it. 

Now, she was already signing the paperwork for full adoption. Words failed to describe the happiness she felt looking at Meadow. 

They’d only known each other a short time and she would die for her. 

Knowing her child had been hurt, that her child had been permanently maimed by that neo-nazi bitch, made her blood boil. Her commanding officer had been the only thing holding her back from storming into Piggot’s office herself to demand retribution. 

When she learnt that Mouse Protector had pulled Meadow away from her scheduled patrol, her rage had boiled over. 

She’d blamed her. Even after calming down she couldn’t help but feel that indignant rage boiling in the back of her head. Mouse Protector, albeit through indirect actions, had got her Meadow hurt. 

How could she ever forgive her? 

Knowing Meadow, she wouldn’t accept it if Heather told her to never see Mouse Protector again. She spoke fondly of their time together. Taking away the one hero that didn’t hate her daughter’s guts felt too cruel, even if she currently despised the woman. 

Just your nerves getting the better of you, it’s not her fault.

Logically she knew that. Logic didn’t help calm her down. 

Heather rubbed a thumb over Meadow’s cheek, tucking her in tighter to the weighted blanket she’d brought from home. 

“Sleep well,” she whispered, kissing her sleeping daughter on the cheek. 

Heather stood there for a while, just watching her sleep. Her feet refused to move at her commands. She knew that even if she went home she wouldn’t sleep. Hospital coffee sucked, but it’d let her keep watch until morning.

What’s one more sleepless night?

Piggot was swamped with paperwork. Her little stunt hadn’t gone over as smoothly as she had planned. Calvert– that snake –had somehow figured out she had backdated the kill order. He was pressuring the other Directors to take action against her so he could claim her desk for himself. 

Paperwork had become her sword over the years, and she had no intention of being beaten by that snivelling coward. 

She sipped her coffee and sighed. It was going to be a long week.

Armsmaster paced, waiting for the test results. Dragon’s digitised face followed his back-and-forth motions. 

She knew he’d taken the young Ward’s injury personally, but she hadn’t expected how much it would eat at him. He’d ditched dealing with the chaos in the city to focus on making legs for a Ward he had lamented even interacting with just a few days ago. 

She knew he resented Raccoon Knight when they had first met. She could cobble together a device that rivalled his own in minutes. After realising how tight her restrictions were–and the lack of ambition to upstage him–he’d settled down somewhat. Occasionally she’d seen him discard an object the young tinker could have used in her work. If she prodded he’d just say it was ‘too volatile of a material for her to work with’ despite that not being true. 

After realising she had been ostracised from the rest of the Wards he’d spoken with Dragon about how to bridge the chasm he’d accidentally made. 

Dragon recommended an icebreaker in the form of creating something together. Both of them had that in common and it’d let him ask his Ward about her worries during it. Colin struggled to focus on relationships, too enthralled by the fight against the chaos. Their own relationship had blossomed through co-operation on projects but it had been slow going with a long way to still go. 

And then he’d been given the perfect opportunity, a chance to patrol with her, to offer her combat guidance to give her more control, more strength. He’d even managed to push past the awkwardness and invited her to make something together. To feel awkward around a child felt demeaning, but he truly didn’t know how she would react. Raccoon Knight was a wildcard who he knew little about. 

Then Purity came along to ruin it all. Now he couldn’t rest until he made his mistake right. He should have rescued her himself and not left it to Mouse Protector. 

The results beeped, indicating they’d finished. Everything worked as intended. Armsmaster breathed a sigh of relief. He could make things right again.

Spending all day in bed got boring pretty quickly. Reading wasn’t hard–especially now that I understood more words–but I found it difficult to pay attention. My eyes would drift off the pages, choosing instead to peer out the window and imagine griffons flying by with mages on their backs. 

Drawing could hold my attention for a bit longer than reading could. Even then, I just wanted to go run around outside. Losing my ability to just get up and run did suck. Yet, I wasn’t worried about it. Mel and Abi had made it a big deal. Me almost losing my life was a big deal but losing my legs wasn’t. Soon they’d be replaced with wicked awesome robot legs, or, in the case of my civilian identity, mundane prosthetics that were still kinda awesome. 

Videos online showed people that had these springy hook legs that were good for running and jumping. A few modifications and I could make them extra good at what they did.

Over the past few boring hospital days, I’d sketched out tons of different things I wanted to add to my legs. I’m sure Dragon and Armsmaster would do an amazing job. They were much better Tinkers than I would ever be after all. But adding my own little devices sounded fun. I’d even thought up some colours I might want to paint the legs, even if no one but the Wards would see them. 

A skinny boy with a curly mess of red hair walked over to my bed. He had a bundle of multicoloured flowers clutched between his hands. 

“Hey… Meadow,” Dennis said. “Got you flowers…” He gestured to them, squishing the crinkly paper in his hand. 

I glared at him. 

“Right… I’ll just put them…” He placed them on the end of my bed, taking a step back after he left his gift. 

The eye contact made me more uncomfortable than it made Dennis. I broke it, choosing to stare at my hands instead. 

“What do you want?” 

“I, um… Fuck. I just wanted to say that I’m…” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

“What?”

“I’m sorry, okay? What I did was stupid and immature. I’m your senior and I should have been looking out for you, not snapping at you. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I shouldn’t hold onto petty grudges. We’re a team and we should be acting like a team. Snuffing your comms… it was stupid of me. You’re hurt be–” His voice was shaky before he cut himself off. Dennis took another deep breath to steady himself. 

“Just, I’m sorry.” 

I didn’t know how to feel. Gallant told me to try to be a better person even if Dennis had been a jerk beyond belief. Now, he was apologising to me, trying to make things better. That counted for something, right?

“I don’t know if I forgive you… but I do want to make things better. You hurt my feelings and I understand why you did it, I do, but you still hurt them. I just wanted you to understand, because I thought we were friends–and I know you said we weren’t, but I thought we were at the time.”

“I’m sorry about Coco. She was important to you and losing her sucks.” 

My breath hitched in a sob. “Really?”

Dennis nodded his head. “Yeah. Do you wanna talk about her?”

“I’ve already…” Tears fell from my face. “I lost my legs, Dennis. I…” More words didn’t want to come out of my mouth. Instead I cried big heaping sobs as it all caught up to me. “T-they’re…”

Dennis patted my arm. “Hey, hey, don’t… it’s alright, okay.” 

I pulled him into a hug. His body tensed up like he was afraid of me. After a moment he relaxed, returning the hug as well as awkwardly patting my back. 

We stayed like that for a little while as I worked my way through my endless supply of tears.

“It’s okay, you’ll get through this. And hey, I heard Dragon is making you some new legs. They’ll probably be able to turn into orbital cannons and roast marshmallows.”

I laughed, through my tears. “Yeah…” 

Dennis pulled away. His smile looked unsure and kind of sad. “Armsmaster is great at stuffing tons of crap into his stuff. Did you know he has a pez dispenser in his halberd?”

Soft tissues helped clear away my tears. “He does?” 

“He fills it with ‘nutritional pellets’ so he can eat while he patrols.” 

It felt good to laugh, like it melted away my worries. 

Dennis stayed with me for the next hour, chatting with me about his latest patrols, and how the Wards were handling things. Talking with him again was nice. 

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Dennis said, a big smile on his face. “They got Purity.” 

“She’s been arrested?”

“No, even better; Miss Militia sniped her.” He mimed shooting with his fingers. “Piggot fast-tracked a kill order and she’s in hot water because of it. Win, win,” he laughed. 

Purity was dead? Dennis’ voice faded into the background. 

She’d been killed because of me. Didn’t that mean her life was on me? The idea of killing someone made me feel ill. 

She had been killed because she hurt me. Kill orders were supposed to be for the worst of the worst, the people who couldn’t be arrested or redeemed. I wasn’t sure I agreed that no one could be redeemed. I’d never really thought about it to be honest. 

If someone else hurt me–someone less dangerous–would they be killed as well? Purity had permanently removed a part of me, and that was unforgivable, but did that mean she deserved to die?

I wish Browbeat was here, he’d be able to explain it better. He made my head spin, but he knew a lot more than I did. 

Dennis tapped his hand on my bed. “I gotta get going. Best of luck, Meadow.” 

I blinked, catching up with what he had been saying. He’d spoken about Piggot trying to make the kill order look like she had it approved before she signed it but one of the directors had noticed? I didn’t quite follow what he meant. He mostly had been laughing at Piggot being swamped in paperwork that wasn’t to do with him. 

“Uh, sure. Bye, Dennis.” 

He smirked at me and left with a wave. 

Purity was dead. She was never coming back. 

Browbeat told me that even horrible people had families, friends, people they cared about. A life. They were a living breathing person with the same tangled mess of wires that made me, me. What she did was horrible, who she was was horrible. Did that make it right to kill her? 

Definitely not. No one deserved to die. Did they?

Did I have to be extra careful around villains from now on? If one of them hurt me, then they would be killed as well. I didn’t like that idea. 

The muggers from my first ever fight had hurt me. They didn’t deserve to die. 

Swirlygirl had accidentally hurt me and she didn’t deserve to die. 

Why did Purity? 

A week in hospital, even with daily visitors, could make anyone restless. I needed every distraction I could get to move me away from these confusing, swirling thoughts. Browbeat ignored my texts even when I said I’d buy him ice cream if he helped me.

Even the internet couldn’t distract me long enough. A nagging urge to get up and walk didn’t help either.

Mom and I were sitting outside beneath a nice tree on a little bit of grass tucked away behind the hospital. She’d notice my restlessness almost immediately and took me outside whenever she came to visit. Being out here almost made the urge worse. 

Out here I could smell the air, feel the breeze, and it all felt so open. As much as I loved clutter in tight spaces, I could appreciate the great outdoors as a place to run around and be free. The clutter needed something to oppose it, so that the clutter would be better to return to. Plus, the hospital didn’t even let me have more than five plushies with me which was bogus.

I kicked my stump legs to an imaginary beat, wobbling my body as I did so. Live in the moment, enjoy what’s here. Purity’s death threatened to creep into my brain at every moment. 

Mom glanced over at me before returning to her phone. She’d been busy the past week juggling my attention and her commitment to work. They were short-staffed and being down a Ward plus a PRT officer meant extra work for everyone. I didn’t mind, my mom needed work as a distraction sometimes. We usually went to pottery class together to give us a chance to unwind, but with me being in the hospital we hadn’t been. At least we got to talk every day. 

Most days we were both too tired from being heroes to say much to each other over dinner, if our schedules even lined up at all. We did try to push past the tiredness, but some days you just wanna watch TV and go to bed. 

I liked where our relationship was, even if it wasn’t perfect. 

Mel waved at me as she approached from around the building. She was wearing her usual dark clothes and had the big stompy boots that I loved. Her feet clunked against the concrete as she approached our little getaway spot. Star-shaped earrings caught the sunlight from beneath her shaggy black hair. Those were my favourite as well and I wished I had a pair. Mom said she’d let me get my ears pierced when I was sixteen, which felt like an eternity away.

“Morning, Meadow. Morning, Ms. Maddox,” Mel greeted us.

“Please, call me Heather. ‘Miss’ makes me feel so old, I’m only twenty-five!”

“You’re twenty-five? Wow,” Mel said, sitting down on the grass near me. She placed a plastic container full of circles of colour on my lap. “Got you some makeup, tried to focus on brighter colours.” 

“Thank you, I love it.” I grinned at her while looking through the rainbow of colours on display. There were so many colourful options to choose from.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m too young for kids, I get it. My mom won’t shut up about it,” Heather laughed. “Nice colour.” She pointed to a circle of bright blue. 

“I didn’t think you were too young. Just my mom’s thirty-three and she isn’t… she doesn’t handle being a parent well. That’s a decent spread of makeup but I couldn’t find any foundation in your colour. We’ll need to shop around once you’re out of the hospital to find something that matches.” 

My mom stretched as she stood up off the grass. “I’ll leave you girls to it, I’m gonna go grab a coffee. You two want something from the vending machine?” She jerked a thumb towards the hospital.

“Roll the dice!” I grinned. 

Mom rolled her eyes. “Mystery gacha selection coming right up, your highness. Anything for you, Mel?” 

“Uh, just Coke, if that’s okay?”

Mom nodded, making her way into the hospital. 

“What’s ‘roll the dice’?” Mel asked after my mom had left. 

“I was complaining that I never knew what to pick, so mom told me she could pick for me. That felt too boring, so I pressed a random button instead. Those chips were disgusting but I liked the mystery of it.” I wiggled my fingers. “Now I can just just say ‘roll the dice’ and she’ll know what it means.” 

Mel exhaled a laugh. “You’re a dweeb.” Her hands divided up a clump of my hair into three strands so she could braid them. “Dammit…” she stopped braiding, “Now I want a mystery thing too.”

“Mystery flavour!” I held my hands up high. 

“Let me have some of whatever you get, yeah?”

“Only if you ask really nicely.” 

Mel kneeled before my wheelchair like a knight kneeling before her queen. She held her arms close to her chest with her closed eyes looking down. 

“Oh, honourable Meadow. Queen of all the land,” she stretched her hands out towards me as she spoke, a smirk on her face with a glimmer in her eyes, “I beseech you. Allow me to snack upon thy mystery beverage and or food. Merely a sip or a nibble will do.”

I grinned at her. “Hm. I’m not convinced.”

Mel slumped down onto her butt with a huff. “And I put my whole heart into it, too.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll die from the heartbreak.” 

She fell backwards onto the grass making a ‘blegh’ noise as her death throes. 

“Oh no! To think I was going to share my mystery snack with her after all! And now she is dead. A tragedy.” 

Her arms stretched up to the sky followed shortly by her body. “I have risen at the call of yummy treats!” 

I snorted with laughter. “Fine, you can have some.” 

Mel pumped her fist, making me snort again. 

As she stood up she dusted away the grass from her jeans. “Mom’s gonna flip, she just washed these.” 

“That’s what you get for–”

A whine blared around us, echoing throughout the city. Mel and I looked around to figure out what was happening. The noise hurt my ears. Clasping my hands over them didn’t help drown out the loud noise. 

“What’s happening?” I yelled to be heard over the horrible whining alarm. 

My mom burst through the side entrance with a clear panic on her face. She sprinted past us, grabbing hold of my wheelchair in an instant. 

“We have to go, now! C’mon sweety, we need to get to shelter, okay?” She ushered Mel to follow us as we sprinted down the street. 

The whole city had been spurred into a panic. Cars were already piling up as everyone tried to leave the parking lot at once. Nurses and doctors were sprinting back into the hospital with worried people trailing after them. 

“What’s going on? Should I go home?” Mel asked my mom. 

“It’s… It’s the Endbringer alarm. Your parents will be going to shelter too, there’s no time to get to them. Come with us, okay? I’ll keep you safe.” Mom stopped for a moment to make sure Mel was following. 

Mel stared at us with her mouth agape. A man shoved past, knocking her out of the shock. She nodded then continued to follow us.

Endbringers. One was coming here to wipe us out and I couldn’t do a single thing to help. The Wards, the Protectorate, and Mouse Protector would all be out there fighting, even the villains would be joining in. I would be stuck in this wheelchair hidden away in a bunker full of strangers. Less than worthless. A non-parahuman was more useful than I was right now.

A reassuring hand gripped my shoulder tight. I barely noticed. Everything felt so far away. 

People were stampeding past each other, showing little care about their fellow humans' well being. Some had rushed out of their houses holding onto dogs, cats, hamsters, and other random pets. Their meows and barks joined the overwhelming noise.

I pushed the little flap by my ear hole to try to drown out the noise better. Everything was too loud even through my protection. 

Mom seemed to know where she was going, weaving through the crowd with practised ease. I didn’t have much choice but to be pushed along. My wheelchair controls couldn’t overpower manual effort unless I used the brakes. Being inside a cramped shelter, not even sure if we would live or die, wasn’t my idea of a good time. But it beat being out here whenever the Endbringer arrived. 

We found our way through the crush of bodies to a heavy steel door with chipped green paint. Stone stairs descended down, stopping our progress. 

“Mel, grab the front,” I heard my mom’s muffled voice behind me. The reassuring hand on my shoulder left as Mel made her way in front of me. Her expression was one of pure horror. 

With shaky hands she grabbed the front of my wheelchair. With mom’s help she began carrying me down the stairs. People kept shoving by, some of them looking at me as if I had killed their dog and spat in their face. I avoided their eyes. Why did I have to be so useless?

A faceless mask appeared to my right. The PRT officer helped lift the wheelchair, making the job easier. Mom thanked him once we reached the bottom of the stairs. He returned to his duties without a word.

Metal girders criss-crossed overhead, holding up a flat grey roof. From down in my wheelchair I couldn’t see much past the tide of people. Mel’s hand returned to my shoulder as we made our way deeper into the shelter. 

Tears bubbled in my eyes. I tried my best to blink them away. 

Nothing to do now but wait. 

Chapter Text

People began to spread out in the shelter as the PRT sealed the door closed. I kept my fingers pressed into my ears, the noise level still far too much. At least I wasn’t at risk of being shoved around anymore. 

Too many people were talking at once. I wasn’t sure how the PRT officers could stand people shoving accusing fingers in their faces. 

Mom guided me and Mel to the edge of the bunker. Despite their panic, people did let us by when they saw that I was in a wheelchair. 

Long minutes passed as we waited for the fight to start. A clock on my wheelchair let me see just how slow the time was crawling by. We waited, and waited some more. As people settled in the noise level lowered a little but it was still too loud with so many different conversations at once. 

A distant boom shook the walls. There were a few screams of panic before everyone dropped silent. I could hear the ringing in my ears with the sudden lack of noise. 

No one dared to speak as we waited for the roof to potentially come crumbling down. 

Another distant rumble like thunder rolled through the walls but they didn’t shake. The people near me visibly relaxed their bodies as they realised it wasn’t near us. After a moment, a couple of distant conversations started again in hushed voices. Not everyone could chat so easily with an Endbringer smashing their homes overhead, so the noise didn’t reach unbearable levels again. 

PRT officers walked around handing out water bottles to people. It was early in the morning. Mel and I were supposed to spend the whole day together at the Boardwalk before I went to Vista's party, not down here stuffed into an Endbringer shelter. Poor Vista. Universe, this is a horrible birthday gift.

Whispers of the name Leviathan spread throughout the bunker. Our homes would be flooded when we returned to them. Was that better than them being melted by Behemoth? It was definitely better than being stuck inside walls for the rest of our lives. Would they have told us to just leave the city instead if it was the Simurgh?

Waiting around for the end of everything you knew gives you a lot of time to think. 

At first I tried to distract myself with ideas for new things to make. They hopped around my brain, urging me to get out there and get my hands dirty. Then it drifted to thoughts of Mouse Protector. She was out there saving people, risking her life. Was she right that the PRT wouldn’t ever let me do what I wanted? Did Miss Piggot oppose me just to make sure I followed her orders only? 

Would the PRT ever let me fix my home after this? 

I wasn’t sure, but it felt like it might be ‘no’. Could I even trust them anymore? They’d killed Purity to get a twisted form of justice at her taking away my legs. Purity was dead because of me. She was an awful person who hurt people, blew up buildings, and made people’s lives hell by following her gang’s ideas. So why did I feel bad that she was dead? 

Was it okay to feel bad over the death of such an awful person? I’m not sure if she could have been made into a better person or not. I’m not sure if she could ever even make up for her horrible actions. But she never got the chance to try. Ward's training had drilled into my head that everyone deserves a fair trial and due process. We were arresting people so they could be put into the legal system. In some cases that meant they’d be sent to the Birdcage. 

The Birdcage is effectively death, isn’t it? If you put a person in a box underground with everything they’ll need to live out the rest of their lives, could you really say that person is still alive? Without any way to say ‘yes look they’re alive’, they could be dead for all you know. Maybe they didn’t bother to eat the food you left them. 

At least it was a fair trial that put them there? I don’t know… 

Could I really keep working with people who would rip anyone who hurt me to pieces without even asking if that’s what I wanted? 

…

No. I can’t. 

Mouse Protector will probably say “Told you so, Kid. Can never trust a stuffed shirt,” to me when I tell her she was right. If I get to tell her.

All of it was gone. 

Mom’s hand squeezed mine as we stared at the remains of our home. Not much remained, just a pile of flooded debris. Only the yellow mailbox jutting out of the water let us even know this was once our home. Memories were stored in those brick walls, permanent reminders of our time together and my mom’s time before she met me. Now they were gone, flushed away with the tidal waves. 

A stick floating in the water tapped against my robotic leg. I kicked it aside to let it continue on its journey. Every reminder of my new legs reminded me of Armsmaster. Seeing him lying there in his hospital bed… it was too much to think about. 

“I want to leave the Wards,” I thought out loud. 

Mom blinked a few times as she snapped out of her thoughts. “Why?” 

“I want to fix things. I need to fix things. I spoke with Director Calvert; he said he wasn’t willing to bend the rules for me. When he takes over for Miss Piggot it’s just going to be more of the same. I can’t just hide away again, I want to make things better. Leaving the Wards means I won’t be restricted anymore. If I want to fix things I can just ask people if I’m allowed to help them. I have this power but I’m not allowed to use it… I just want to help.” 

I didn’t dare look her in the eye. I had confidence in my decision, but I hated being judged for my actions. Things were easier when I could just do them without asking for permission. 

“It’s a serious decision, Meadow.” Mom glanced at me before turning back to the ruins of our home. “But okay. If it’s what you want, you can leave. I… Maybe we can start somewhere else?” 

“Somewhere else?” 

“Like a different city. We could go to Boston, or New York. We could move to the east coast, go somewhere warmer. Somewhere else,” she said. Something in her tone made it sound like she didn’t want to go anywhere else. 

“I couldn’t be there to help stop this. I can’t just leave and not be there to help fix things.” 

Mom squeezed her eyes shut, gripping my hand tighter. “Meadow, it’s not our responsibility to fix things. You can’t shoulder the burden of an entire city.” 

“I’m not. Promise. I just want to do what I can. Even if I help one person, that’s better than no one, right?” 

“You’re not wrong… I wish I had your optimism, Meadow. Even at a time like this you’re just thinking of helping people,” Mom sighed. “I don’t want you to go hungry. Or to be sloshing through water full of who-knows-what. We could go somewhere else, somewhere close enough that you can come and help?” 

I thought it over. It wasn’t like I needed to sleep here to help people. Plus, it’d make my mom worry less about me if she knew I had somewhere safe to return to. I had lived just fine on my own before, though I hadn’t really had anything to compare it to. 

“Somewhere close sounds nice,” I said. 

“Okay. Somewhere close,” Mom repeated.

We continued to stare at the ruins of our home.

Browbeat was stuffing a duffel bag full of clothes as I stepped into his room. He was shoving his clothes away in a flurry that didn’t match his normal easygoing attitude. 

“Hey, Dillan. Are you going somewhere?” 

“Leaving.” 

“The Wards?” 

“No, just Brockton Bay. They’re transferring me to New York, trading me for someone else.”

“Oh. I’m leaving too. But the Wards, not to somewhere else.”

“Good for you. Get the hell out of this shithole and don’t come back is my advice. Everyone is going to revert to primal instincts and I pity anyone around to witness it.” 

“I’m not just abandoning Brockton Bay. I’m gonna come back and try to help fix it.” 

Dillan looked over at me with his eyebrow raised. “Really?” He shook his head, “Whatever. Have fun with that. Don’t cry to me when you get robbed by someone.” 

“People won’t rob me if I’m helping them.” 

“They’ll bite the hand that feeds them and suck off all the meat if it means they get more than someone else. People are panicky, stupid, animals and having civilization ripped away from them is just going to make them violent,” Dillan emphasised random words as he shoved clothes into his bag. 

He stood up, glancing around his room one last time before turning to leave. He placed a hand on my shoulder. 

“Take care out there, Meadow. You’ll realise soon enough that I’m right, but you don’t deserve to be hurt because you’re naïve–no matter how annoying you are.” Dillan smiled at me before walking away. 

As usual, I was left dazed by his words as he made a quick escape. 

Wait, he considers me annoying? 

I went to chase after him but his long legs meant he was long gone. Maybe he was right, people can be cruel if they want to be. Still, that didn’t mean everyone is, and I was going to prove him wrong. 

Vista shoved past me with an elbow to the ribs as she went to her bedroom.  

“Ow! That hurt, Missy.” 

She spun around, jabbing a finger towards me. “You don’t get to call me that! You’re a traitor just like Browbeat. At least he’s staying in the Wards unlike you. I’m not going to blame you for not being there for Leviathan, but leaving us is pitiful. You’re a coward, Raccoon Knight,” Vista spat. 

She escaped into her cubicle, slamming the door shut behind her before I could get a word in. 

My eyes burnt as tears bubbled to the surface. I wasn’t running away. I was still going to help Brockton Bay, just in my own way. 

Deep breath in.

Vist would understand in time, she was grieving right now. We all were. 

I passed by the portraits of the Wards in the PRT lobby as I made my exit. They were in the process of making one for me before all of this. Browbeat had been newer than I was, he didn’t even have a costume yet. Neither of us would be hanging on these walls alongside our friends… if we could even call them friends anymore. 

Aegis and Gallant were dead. Not to mention the Protectorate deaths. Clockblocker and Armsmaster were both in the hospital, one missing half his face and the other torn to pieces after he tried to fight Leviathan one-on-one. Shadow Stalker had broken the endbringer truce and had fled before anyone could arrest her. 

With Browbeat and me leaving it left only Vista and Kid Win as the remaining capable Wards. Clockblocker might recover in time but with Panacea missing, it wouldn’t be any time soon. 

Guilt boiled in my stomach. Leaving the Wards right now made their lives harder. Replacements were apparently coming soon but I couldn’t help but feel awful. 

This is what I want, I can’t forget that. Doing something for someone else's sake will just make me sad. Maybe they’ll feel better but eventually I’ll be leaving and they’ll feel bad either way. There’s no good time to say goodbye. 

The PRT lobby was empty. Not even a receptionist to greet people. I wandered around for a while, taking in that weird chemical smell that always lingered there. 

In the gift shop, a figure of me in my armour brandished a spear that didn’t match Coco or Dede. I flicked the plastic mirror of myself, watching it as it toppled about. Mugs, shirts, and a bunch of other random items with my logo on them were lining the shelves near the figures. The action figures were new, I hadn’t even had a chance to see the final version. When Glenn Chambers had brought up merchandise, I had leapt at the chance to see myself moulded in plastic. 

Seeing it now? It felt pointless. 

What use did any of this have for a city that’s been torn apart?

I left the building through the secret entrance, more out of habit than to disguise myself. No one was around to see me anyway. 

An armoured truck rumbled down the street, shoving debris aside as it crawled along. The letters ‘PRT’ were painted on the side. 

They were most likely delivering food to one of the shelters. I looked up to see Dauntless hovering overhead, providing aerial support for the van. 

He didn’t pay attention to me as I walked away from the building. My heavy backpack made trudging through the knee-deep water a lot harder than usual. I could feel parts inside my new legs whirring with the exertion. 

I needed to do something to get rid of this water. People couldn’t live like this. After that I could start cleaning up brick-by-brick. 

I fired off a text to let my mom know I was heading back to the motel. Another text was sent to Mel to tell her I missed her. She’d moved out of the city to stay with her uncle. Her family didn’t plan on coming back. Only being able to talk to her over text or in the brief phone calls we managed to squeeze in when neither of us were busy made me feel lonely. Abi and Taffy hadn’t returned any of my texts or phone calls and I was trying my hardest to not think of why. 

Just keep moving forward. 

At least Mouse Protector was still around. Though, she’d become… scary, lately. We didn’t get the chance to talk much, she seemed entirely focused on hunting down Ravager. I’d had to remind her to eat more than once in the past week. She didn’t make jokes anymore and she refused to let me help her with anything dangerous. I wasn’t even allowed to scout for her. 

Maybe she just needed time, like Vista. 

I hope that’s all she needs. 

Warmth spread through my muscles as I lifted the heavy chunk of concrete. My exoskeleton made lugging it around a breeze. I heaved it onto the ‘usable concrete’ pile. 

All around me materials were sorted into different piles. Those piles were divided up into ‘useability’. Soggy wood was separated from dry wood, bent metal separated from straight metal, etcetera.  

A forge made from the concrete burned bright behind me, shooting smoke into the air in billowy black clouds. Metal bubbled in a stone cauldron as it melted down from the heat of the forge.  

Finding the right clay for the crucible had been hard. Most would crack too easily when heated to the temperatures needed to melt the variety of metals. My power did most of the work, letting me know where to dig, how to mix it together, and what I needed to do. We were a team, her and I, and I couldn’t do any of this without her. 

I shovelled more fuel into the forge, enjoying the satisfying crackles and pops as the fire engulfed it. 

Despite the warmth of exercise, the heat from my forge, as well as the gambeson, fur-lined armour, and heavy coat I was wearing over the top of it all, I was still cold. Brockton Bay was warmer than the surrounding areas but that still meant biting cold during spring. Worse, sheets of ice were still frozen in the bay, making the wind that passed by colder than it should be. 

I tugged my coat closed and stood a little closer to the forge for warmth. 

Only a few more hours here and I get to go home to a nice warm motel that doesn’t at all make me miss home. 

Mom wouldn’t even be waiting for me in the tiny little room. Work had become hectic with the city in disarray. Brockton Bay felt calmer than usual but was in more chaos than it had ever been. With the gangs roving freely and claiming chunks of the city, there weren't many safe places left. People were desperate for resources.

I had promised to avoid fights when I could. I’d even avoided the new Wards when I saw them. They’d introduce themselves to me eventually. For now, it's better to avoid people at all while I get set up.

This little bit of land I’d claimed stood off at the edge of the city, far away from anywhere important. Not many buildings remained here due to it being closer to the bay, so I doubted anyone would come to claim it. My power lets me scavenge the little resources left better than anyone else.

Elel flared to life, her bell chimed as her sonar blip picked up nearby people. I hovered a hand over the button that would deactivate her defence system as I looked at who was arriving.

Three people were trudging through the water, their feet protected by their rain boots. 

All of them looked about my age, teenagers. One, a boy, was lanky with shaggy blond hair. His clothes looked too short on him, either he liked looking like he had hit a growth spurt since he woke up this morning, or he had lost his actual clothes to the floods. To his left was a dark skinned boy wearing thick glasses. He didn’t look happy to be here. I liked his hair, it was big and poofy. He was also the only one with any sense to wear warm clothing, or maybe the only one with warm clothing left. His coat looked inflated, making him a little bigger than he actually was. 

Trudging slightly behind them was a girl in brightly coloured clothes. Her brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail that didn’t stop strands of it falling into her face. Abigail. Thank the stars she’s alive. The relief of seeing her again made me almost forget that I was currently Raccoon Knight and she was likely going to recognise me.

She waved as she noticed I was staring at them. Everything blurred together, I barely noticed as I slammed the button to stop Elel from firing at them. 

“There she is, guys! Told you!” Abi half-yelled. 

Her friends spoke back, too quiet to hear from this distance. 

Fuck. What should I do? I’m so glad she’s alive but she’s going to recognise me instantly. 

“Hey, Raccoon Knight! I’m your biggest fan! You might have seen my posts on PHO about you! Or maybe the fansite I set up?! Or maybe all the fanmail? Or the hundreds of PHO messages I sent?” Abi yelled, her voice not getting any quieter as she got closer.

The lanky blond guy nudged her with his elbow. “She gets it.” 

“Right, right,” Abi said, visibly calming herself down. 

I didn't move at all in the entire time it took for them to walk up to me. My entire body refused to budge, frozen as my brain struggled to think of what to do. 

“Yargh,” I finally said. All three of them stopped in their tracks, their faces scrunching with confusion. “I mean… yeah…” I continued while trying to make my voice deeper. 

“Woah! You sound different than you do on videos,” Abi said. 

“Yeah. Why is that, huh?” The lanky blond said, squinting his eyes at me. 

“Uh… I have a cold?” 

“You should go to a shelter, they have medicine there.” 

“Is that confirmation that your Marshmallow Healing Paste can’t heal diseases, viruses, or illnesses?” the boy with poofy hair asked me. 

“I’ve never, uh, really… No. It focuses on outside stuff but does give people less pain,” I winced at the strange word choice and how my voice creaked as I struggled to keep it deep. 

Poofy hair nodded along. 

“Cool! Well, we wanted to help,” Abi grinned at me. 

“Help?” My voice squeaked. 

“Yep. We got bored sitting around waiting for others to make things better. So, here we are! Ready and eager to get our hands dirty to help slot things back together. Though, Bert here,” she nudged the poofy haired boy with her elbow, “doesn’t want to do any manual labour. He’s more a thinker type. Big brain, big thoughts.”

“I have asthma. The icy wind is making it hard to breathe. If I exert myself I’ll die,” Bert explained. 

“It’s a medical condition. He can help organise things, if that’s okay with you… ma’am.” 

“Ma’am?” Abi snorted. “She’s not an adult. Right, Mead…o..” Abi stared at me with her mouth wide. “Holy shoot! You’re Meadow!” She pointed at me, almost toppling over from how fast she threw her hand out. She slammed her hands over her mouth. “Oh no! I outed a hero!” 

Bert looked from her to me over and over. Blond guy’s eyes went wide as he looked me up and down. 

“The weird girl from your class with all the plushies?” Blond guy asked. 

Abi nodded before stopping and shaking her head. “Nuh uh. No. Not me. No, sir. I didn’t say that.” She continued to deny it in various ways. 

I sighed, taking off my helmet to show my face. “Yes, I’m Meadow. Please don’t tell anyone else.” 

“Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot,” Abi repeated. 

Bert nodded once, his face returning to a passive look. 

Blond guy shrugged. “Yeah, we won’t. Secret’s safe with us,” he held up a pinky. 

I returned my helmet to my head. 

Abi stopped repeating herself to say, “Does Mel know? I can’t even believe it myself and you’re. Right. There! How did you stop that grocery store robbery when you were at school at the same time? Do you have cloning powers? Is that just a really convincing Raccoon Knight costume and you’re messing with us? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Abi sucked in a deep breath and I took the chance to interrupt her.

“No, she doesn’t. It was a body double. I don’t have cloning powers but I could probably make cloning technology. This is my real armour that I made myself. I didn’t tell you because… I liked just,” I struggled to find the words, “I liked just existing with you. Being normal, being… people together. Hanging out with you and Mel is more fun than being a hero ever was.” 

I wasn’t sure my words meant what I wanted them to. How could I condense down my first real friendships into words? 

Abi trudged out of the water onto the dry platform I was standing on. Her boots slodged as she walked forward. I couldn’t bring myself to look into her eyes as she stood in front of me. 

“I’ve had fun too. I meant it when I said I was your biggest fan. I’ve followed you since the start. You’re Raccoon Knight, the hero for the people, the weird girl that doesn’t care about PR and eats things from the trash. You’re also my friend Meadow, the weird girl who moves like she wants to run around on all fours and collects more plushies than I’ve ever seen in my entire life. You’re also the hero that gives out cute stickers to kids you rescued from a fire. You’re also my friend.”

Even before she had finished speaking I found myself fighting back tears. “I’m sorry for keepin–”

“Uh, uh. No. Heroes need secret identities. Comics taught me that, and comics never lie. Except about the effectiveness of bedsheets as parachutes,” Abi tapped me on the arm. “This is Bert and Dash. We’re here to help clean up,” she jabbed a thumb towards the toy boys who waved at me. 

They wanted to help me? The idea that people would want to help hadn’t even crossed my mind. 

“I thought you were dead…” 

“Alive and well! I just left my phone behind when I ran to the shelter and couldn’t remember your number for the life of me. Sorry for scaring you.”  

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not okay but I understand and I’m not mad.” 

A sudden cold wind made me shiver. Abi and Dash were wearing normal clothing, the kind you wore when there wasn’t a giant ice block making each gust of wind colder than a fridge. 

They clenched up, fighting back against the cold. 

“I have spare coats!” I ran to a repaired dresser to pull out the coats and other warm clothes I had been gathering. My plan was to fix them up and give them out to people who needed them. No better first customers than Abi and her friends. 

Bert and Dash had made their way up the dry platform. I kicked a fan that I had placed in front of a heater to turn it on as I passed by. The warm air should help dry them off. 

I shoved coats, gloves, and hats at the duo. Bert had been more prepared, even wearing gloves. 

“Not the best condition, I haven’t got around to fixing them yet. They should keep you warmer than nothing, though.” 

 They all put their new clothes on while thanking me. 

“Shelter didn’t have enough to go around and I lost all my clothes. Miss Hamza–Bert’s aunty–said she’d buy some for us out of town but that won’t be until tomorrow,” Abi explained. 

“Just give them back to me when you have your own, then. I can fix them up and give them to someone else.” A pop behind me reminded me that I had been melting metal. “Oh! One second.” 

I grabbed my tongs to pull the clay bowl full of liquid metal out of the forge. I poured it all into long, thin tube-shaped moulds. The bottom of the mould ended in a point to make metal spikes. Metal spikes were hard to find in decent condition but could be used for a variety of things. 

Abi stared over my shoulder with her mouth agape. Bert and Dash stood by the side also peering at my work with interest. 

“Not to bother you or anything, but what can we do?” Dash asked. 

What could they do? Asking them to gather materials felt like too much. Maybe I could get them to bend or hammer stuff back into shape? 

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” I said as I finished pouring the metal. “Do you have any skills?” 

“I know how to do basic sewing and some basic survival stuff, like starting fires or setting up a tent,” Dash said.

“He can also bake! He’s really good at it!” Abi yelled in my ear. “Sorry,” she added after I flinched. 

“I’m good with repetitive stuff. I do my aunty’s paperwork sometimes.” 

“Bert’s underselling himself. He understands how a city works, he can tell us what we need to make!” 

Bert looked down at the floor. “I don’t mind physical activities, as long as they're not too strenuous. If you teach me, I wouldn’t mind helping you sew the clothes.” 

“I can teach you. That okay, Raccoon Knight?” Dash said. He stood in front of Bert as if he was trying to block me from attacking him. 

“Yeah! Getting people warm clothes is a good idea. I also need someone to keep an eye on the stew I want to make.” 

“Stew?” 

I pointed to my fridge. Hooking up power here had been hard but this house had a generator in what remained of the basement. After carefully taking it out and removing the water, it worked like new. 

“Found a ton of food while I was scavenging. The good stuff is in that fridge, the bad stuff is in that box,” I pointed to a plastic trash can. 

Bad food still had its uses, no use letting it go to waste. Air fresheners were taped to the bin to help with the smell. Smells didn’t really bother me, even rotting food, but they bothered everyone else. 

“Just like your chainmail arc! You fed a bunch of homeless people with sandwiches!” Abi said with a wide grin on her face. “Meadow, this is the coolest! I still can’t believe you’re Raccoon Knight. Am I dreaming? Bert pinch me.” 

“I’m not going to pinch you.” 

“Fine, Dash, pinch me!” 

Dash shrugged before pinching her cheek hard. 

“Ow! Why’d you do it so hard?” Abi rubbed at her face. 

“You didn’t specify how hard. Need me to do it again?” Dash smirked at her while pinching the air in front of him. 

Abi jumped away, almost falling off the safety of the dry platform. “No! I’m good. Not a dream. You meanie,” she stuck her tongue out at him. 

Their antics made me miss Mel. I took a deep breath to move past the thought. 

I clapped my gloved hands together. “Okay! Dash you teach Bert to sew then you start sewing up those clothes. That pile there,” I gestured to the scrap cloth pile, “has plenty of cloth to work with. Don’t worry about matching colours, just make sure any big holes are fixed.” 

“What about thread?” 

“Oh!” I rummaged through my coat pockets to find the tupperware container I had been storing reels of thread in. “Most of them were wet,” I said as I handed the box over, “but I dried them off. Just be careful because some might not be great. I’ll find more in the future.” 

Dash took the box, nodding along to my explanation. “Okay, cool.” 

“Good, I’ll get the stew started. Then I just need you two to check it over.”

“Wait, I never told you my super special skills!” Abi said. 

“Oh. Yeah. What are they?” 

“Rude. You should already know I’m a great people person. I can make friends with absolutely anyone no matter what. I’m also crazy talented at cartwheels–”

“How’s that helpful right now, Abs?” Dash asked. He had already started rummaging through the thread to check their conditions. 

“Well I can cartwheel away from danger!” 

“What if you’re in the water?”

“Drats. You’re right. I’ll have to learn to waterwheel.” 

Dash shook his head, returning to his task. 

“Oh, oh! I can also shout really loud !” Abi yelled the final two words at the top of her voice. I tried to cover my ears but my helmet blocked my hands. Birds scattered from the scream and her voice echoed in the barren city.

Dash dashed over to slap his hand over Abi’s mouth. “Hey, idiot, don’t scream like that. You’re not supposed to draw attention to us. The city isn’t safe right now.” 

Abi mumbled something from behind his hand that vaguely sounded like “Sorry.” 

Dash sighed. “Sorry, RK. She doesn't–well, you know her. Do you think we should move? Someone definitely heard that.” 

“I can defend us. I don’t think there’s anyone around here anyway.” 

“With the smoke and the yelling they might realise there’s things here they can steal,” Dash said.

Abi mumbled something again. 

“No more yelling, at all. Indoor voice forever, okay Abs?” 

Abi nodded. Dash let go of her mouth and she breathed in dramatically. 

“Sorry. I got excited. I can’t believe you’re Meadow!” Abi whispered, her voice almost rising with each new sentence. Even when whispering she wasn’t a quiet person. 

I shook my head. “It’s alright. We can deal with whoever comes to us. But Dash is right, we should probably think about moving somewhere else tomorrow. If you guys are even coming back tomorrow. I don’t want to assume.” 

“Of course we’re coming back! The city won’t be fixed in a day,” Abi shout-whispered. 

“Okay. Good. Um, do either of you have a phone? I can text you the new location tomorrow.” 

Dash nodded and gave me his number. 

With that out of the way I went to restart Elel. 

I squeezed the button on the metal tower that held Elel to bring her back to life. An unnatural wind rushed past us, exploding outwards from Elel’s position at the top of the constructed metal pylon. Losing her tinker components had been sad, she wasn’t the same without them. This new form was cobbled together, a shadow of her former self, but she was still beautiful. A scrap metal ball containing as many different types of tracking equipment I could think of and find. That ball was nestled within a homemade turret attached to plastic tubes that fed into containers of my glue. 

Her internal organs–crafted from the remains of a possum–produced glucose that made sure the glue wouldn’t clog up her barrel. She could track a person’s movement and glue them before they could run. Anyone on the platform was safe, but then they’d need to face me and Dede. 

I withdrew a needle from one of my pockets. “I need a bit of your blood,” I said to the trio. 

“What?” Dash asked. 

Abi held out a finger towards me with a smile on her face. “Take away, RK.” 

I grabbed her hand to steady it then poked her finger with the needle to retrieve a drop of blood. That blood went into Elel’s biometric scanner on the ‘friendly’ side. Now she wouldn’t shoot Abi, at least in theory. I had practised with my own blood but hadn’t added anyone else’s yet. Elel might turn on me now, and only Abi would be protected. 

Only one way to find out. I stepped out into the water and winced as Elel turned her gun towards me. Time seemed to slow down as I waited to be coated in the glue. Elel finished her scan and turned back to her scanning duties. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

After some convincing I managed to get Dash and Bert’s blood, the former almost throwing up at the sight of it. Someone so tall being squeamish felt wrong in my brain. Why was that? Maybe because I was short and didn’t mind blood? I mentally shrugged and moved on. 

With our little base defended we set to work. Dash and Bert began to sew the clothes up while Abi struggled to figure out what she wanted to. She hopped between different activities, getting a little done each time before she got bored and moved on to something else. 

Between prepping the meaty stew, I spent my time managing the forge, adding more metal and fuel as needed. Each batch became more spikes and those spikes were cooled in water before being added to a pile of their own. 

We worked while talking. Abi and I enjoyed catching up after a week of not seeing each other. None of us wanted to speak about the fact our city had been torn to pieces. We avoided those topics when they came up, moving on quickly to something else to distract us. 

Things weren’t better, they wouldn’t be for a long time. I was just thankful to have my friend back. 

Chapter Text

Elel warned me of a scruffy-looking man wading through the water towards our camp. He didn’t have a coat on, or rain boots to protect him from the water. His face looked skinny as if he hadn’t eaten anything in a while. I deactivated Elel’s turret to let him get closer but grabbed Dede just in case he didn’t have good intentions. 

“Hello,” I said as I walked over to the edge of our dry little island to meet him. He stopped in his tracks. 

“Hello. Um, I smelt food and was wondering if you had anything to spare?” His voice was rough and croaky like a smoker. 

“Sure, we made it to give out, so you can have some,” I said, walking over to the pot. I waved at the man to step up onto the dry platform. 

“Keep your distance,” I whispered to the trio as I passed by them. Browbeat’s warning echoed in my head, making me more paranoid than I needed to be. He was just hungry, not dangerous. 

I rummaged around in a cupboard to find one of the good bowls I had found. As I opened the lid to scoop some of the stew out, Abi screamed. 

I whipped around, withdrawing Dede and swapping her to her airblast head in one smooth motion. The man held a knife to Abi’s neck while holding her still with his other arm. Bert and Dash backed up, eyes wide. 

“Don’t fucking move, cape,” he shouted. His eyes looked like a wild animal’s, hungry and desperate, ready to attack. “Drop the fucking weapon,” he commanded. 

I dropped Dede, kicking her behind me to hide the steel wire that kept her tethered to me. 

“Oh shoot, oh shoot, oh shoot,” Abi muttered, her lip quivering. Tears were rolling down her face. Every small movement made the knife press against her throat. Abi wasn’t known for being able to sit still.

“Shut up!” He yelled at Abi. “Give me the black kid’s coat, and I want that whole pot.” He gestured to Bert and then to the pot of stew. 

My mind was racing in possible ways I could attack. All of them risked hurting Abi. Except for Aiai, but I wasn’t going to resort to permanent solutions. I held my hands up to show I wasn’t going to attack. 

“Okay. It’s all okay. We’ll give you what you want.” I nodded to Bert who began to take off his coat with shaky hands. 

My radio let me pick up on his whispered words, “We weren’t supposed to come and now Abi’s gonna die, oh god.” 

They weren’t supposed to be here? 

“We’re all calm, okay? I’m going to pick up the pot now, alright?” I kept my hands held up as I shuffled backwards.

“Don’t tell me what I am!” He yelled. Abi flinched under his grip causing the knife-wielding man to clutch her tighter. “Carry it around the corner or I’ll fucking stab her, got it?” 

I nodded, not daring to speak more. Hostage situations hadn’t come up in my time as a hero, although I had learnt how to handle them from the PRT’s lessons. Right now, all of that information failed to come to the surface as my brain struggled to do much more than repeat panicked ideas. 

Dede was still attached to me. If I walk away to deliver the food she’ll be dragged along. 

“I need to, um, detach my weapon. Okay?” 

“What?” 

I lifted my hand to show the steel wire attaching me to Dede. “I don’t want you to think I’m going to attack you, so I need to detach her? Okay?” 

“Her? What’re you talking about? Just get rid of the wire or else!”

I bent down as slowly as I could manage to make sure he wasn’t startled. I only used one hand to detach the cable, making it harder than it should have been. After fumbling with the lock for a little bit I managed to set the wire free which promptly whirred back up into my wrist-strap. 

He flinched at the sound of the wire moving but didn’t attack. 

I stood back up to grab the pot. As I turned my back I felt more dread seep into me as they left my line of sight. My brain filled in the blanks, imagining the worst possible scenarios in the couple of seconds it took me to grab the pot in both hands and turn back around. 

Nothing had changed, everyone was still in the same positions. 

“Put the gun on the floor, too.”

It took a moment to realise what he meant. I placed the pot on the ground so I could pull the strap that held Fufu over my head. His wild eyes didn’t leave me as I carefully placed Fufu on the ground away from me. Moving so slowly just made my heart beat faster. Getting this over quicker would make things less stressful but I didn’t want to spook him with sudden movement. I grabbed the pot after setting Fufu down and walked off the platform to get to his requested place. Moving fast in the water while carrying a large pot full of food wasn’t easy. Tripping would doom Abi, so I took each step carefully. 

Rounding the corner I spotted a place where the road had been drained enough to be dry now. I placed the pot down and rushed back to my camp. 

The man was dragging Abi through the water with him, he stopped about twenty feet away from me. 

“Go around. I’ll drop her off at the corner when you’re back over there,” he gestured with his head to the dry remains of the house he had come from. I didn’t want to let him get that far with Abi. 

“I don’t have any weapons anymore. Just let her go now and you can leave.” 

He shook his head, “No, that doesn’t work. You look like one of those mechanical types, I can’t chance that you don’t have something hidden. You go back to your little friends and I drop her off at the corner. Capisce?”

“What does capisce mean?” 

“Fuck you mean what does it mean? It means ‘get it?’, understand?” 

“Sorry, yes. I get it… but I can’t do that.

“Why the fuck not?”

“I don’t want you to run off with my friend.” 

“I don’t give a shit about her. Why would I… you think I’m with the Merchants? Fuck them.”

“We can both leave happy, okay? Just let her go now. I won’t do anything, promise.”

His eyes flicked between me and his exit to freedom and a full belly. He seemed to be sizing up if he could run fast enough to get away from me. Water lapped against our legs, soaking all three of us as we stood in tense silence. I could stand here all day but I doubt Abi could hold on much longer. She looked like a panicked animal, ready to kick and buck at any moment. Speaking now would interrupt his thought process and throw him off balance, but I needed him to feel confident. 

He finally decided, shoving Abi down into the water before bolting towards his freedom. I stood with my hands up until he had made a decent distance from my friend. A well-practised overarm throw nailed a marshmallow grenade into his back, he fell face-first with a big splash. 

I threw more grenades than was needed as a small form of revenge. The marshmallow struggled to stick in the water, letting him pull himself to his feet. I kicked him square in the chest with my mechanically-enhanced leg as he whirled around to face me. He stumbled, slamming the tons of marshmallow goop attached to his back into the building he had been so desperate to get by. 

The cap of my middle finger broke open, spraying my smelly spray in his face. He sputtered and coughed, dropping his knife as he tried to move his arm up to wipe the liquid off his face. The foam stopped him from moving his only free arm enough to wipe it off his face completely.

I left him to flail as I went to help Abi. She stood staring at me with wide eyes but otherwise seemed unharmed except for some scrapes on her hands. 

“Here,” I took her hands in my own so I could inspect them. 

The scrapes on her palms had been full of grit and little rocks. They were probably infected considering the state of the water below us. I rubbed some paste on them. According to the power testing people, it could fight low-level infections but not much else. She winced at the cold paste before a content look passed over her face. 

“Wow. All the hurt is gone. I even feel calmer. More calm? How do you say that?”

“I’ve no idea. You’ll want to see an actual doctor, I can’t do much for infections.” 

Abi nodded, her eyes locked on her sparkly palms. “Okay. That was scary, Mead–Raccoon Knight. What’re you gonna do with… him,” she spat the last word while looking at the hungry prisoner. 

“Feed him. Give him a coat.”

“What? That’s what he wanted in the first place! You shouldn’t reward him for holding me at knifepoint! He had a knife to my throat, Meadow!” Abi half-sobbed before stopping. “Does this mute my emotions?” She looked at her palms.

“No. At least it shouldn’t. It makes the pain less hurty… I mean it gives pain relief.” 

“Huh. I just feel calm.” 

“Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I just feel weird not being able to be upset when I should be upset. Like I’m calm but I shouldn’t be, not right now. My mom is gonna kill me.” 

I opened my mouth to speak before remembering the odd expression. Her mom didn’t hurt her, despite what it sounded like. 

“I’m gonna go sit over there with the boys. You do… whatever.” 

I pulled her into a quick hug before leaving to deal with my catch. Abi stumbled through the water back to our camp. 

The gruff man had stopped struggling. Fresh vomit ran down his chest, all over Bert’s coat. I’d have to apologise to him for that. 

I trudged around the corner to grab the pot of stew. After placing it on a dry piece of the street by the stuck man, I headed back to the camp to grab a coat, a bowl, and a spoon. Bert and Dash eyed me as I came close but focused on making sure Abi was okay. I was glad someone was there for her. 

I placed the coat on the same dry patch, moving the pot to sit over the top of it. One bowlful later, I stood in front of the man holding the slightly cold meal. 

“Are you here to mock me?” He said, his voice quiet. His stomach made a deep rumble. 

“Open up,” I said as I scooped up a spoonful of the stew. 

“What?” 

“Open your mouth, please,” I wiggled the spoon to show my intentions. 

He looked at me with a strange expression, something between confusion and a smile. 

After a moment he complied, opening his mouth. I placed the spoon inside, letting him take the broth and bits of meat before removing it. We stood there for a while as I spoonfed a man who was probably twice my age. His face blushed a deep red as Abi and her friends approached. 

“You’re really feeding him? I thought my mind was playing tricks,” Dash said. He was holding Dede horizontally in both hands. Besides him, Bert had Fufu slung over his shoulder. Abi looked queasy watching me feed the man who had held her at knifepoint. I hadn’t forgotten that fact, and he wasn’t forgiven, not by a long shot. But I knew he needed food, so here we were. 

I spooned the last of the stew into the man’s mouth and began on a second bowl. 

“We all deserve to eat.”

“Even knife-wielding maniacs?” Dash asked. 

“Even knife-wielding maniacs,” I said. 

“C’mon, Abi,” Dash leant Dede against the wall before guiding Abi away with a hand on her shoulder. “Your friend is fucking nuts,” I overheard him say as he walked away. 

Maybe, but this felt right. Not the part where I was feeding a grown man who was stuck to a wall with glittery marshmallow foam, but the part where I was helping a person who was down on his luck. 

Bert walked closer, inspecting the foam. 

“We got together because of you,” Bert said out of the blue.

“Huh?”

“The Fanclub. Abi made it, originally. Anyone nice on your thread got a message from her, asking them to join a group chat that was for the quote, unquote ‘real fans’. Then, after talking, she realised most of us were local so she organised a whole get-together. I hadn’t wanted to go, originally, but my aunty convinced me it was a good idea. They’re my friends, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. So… Thank you.” 

“No need to thank me. Sounds like she did all the work.” 

“She wouldn’t have done it without you existing. Even if it’s indirect, I’m still grateful. Plus, you’ve been fun to find information about.” 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Not every day such an obscure cape shows up. Grue and Hellhound were fun to follow before they saddled up with a team, but you were a hero, less weird to know a ton about a hero. We came here to find Abi’s friend, hoping Raccoon Knight might know where she is and tell us in exchange for us helping her. Thank you for finding her.”

I gave him a thumbs up. That would have been a weird conversation. I’m not even sure how I would have handled Abi asking me to find Meadow if she hadn’t noticed it was me. 

“I have a question, though, for you, Raccoon Knight,” Bert said. 

“Sure, anything.”

“This guy has seen our faces and heard our names. You think he’s going to let us live?” 

He shook his head, shaking the spoon free from his mouth. “Hey, hey, no, kid. I won’t tell anyone. You don’t fuck with a cape’s identity, that includes friends,” the words spilt out of his mouth as if he couldn’t get them out fast enough. He looked at me wide-eyed after he spoke to Bert. 

He held my friend at knife-point, I couldn’t trust him. 

I elbowed Bert. “Don’t worry. He’ll be going to jail after this. If he wants to get revenge on any of you,” I did my best to look intimidating through my helmet, “he’ll regret it,” I said in my best ‘don’t fuck with me’ voice. Admittedly, that voice wasn’t well practised or that good, but it seemed to convey the message well enough as he nodded frantically. “Good,” I said in a more upbeat voice. 

“Now, let’s get you down from there and tied up ready for the cops.” 

My foam had a sister, and though they butted heads quite often, rarely seeing eye-to-eye, they ultimately completed each other. One didn’t work without the other. 

I poured the dissolving agent over the foam, watching the little fight they had as the foam bubbled and frothed as the blue liquid chewed through it. Before he was too free, I zip-tied one of his wrists, ready to tie it up to the other. I told Bert to keep Fufu aimed at him, ready to deliver another stinky payload should he try to move too much. The smell must have done its job since he didn’t struggle at all as I pulled off Bert’s coat before tying his wrists together. 

I draped the spare coat I had gathered over the man’s shoulders to keep him warm. 

“Sorry,” he said, his head hanging low.

“No use to me. Tell her,” I nodded with my head towards Abi. 

The man turned, his strength overpowering my hold easily. I hoped he didn’t notice how easy it would be to escape, I didn’t even have Dede. 

“I’m sorry, girl,” he shouted across the watery field between him and Abi. She stuck her tongue at him before turning away. “Fair enough,” he muttered. 

I grabbed my phone, dialling the PRT number out of habit. No, I can’t call them. Not yet. I swapped to the non-emergency police number. 

Abi ran her hands through her hair, making her already messy ponytail even worse. 

“Yeah, I don’t think we can come back tomorrow. We had fun, or I had fun, I don’t know about you two,” she looked to her left and right, at Bert and Dash.

“I enjoyed helping, it was nice to have something to do. To… distract and stuff,” Dash said, shrugging. 

“It was nice being useful. But Abi’s right, there’s no way we’re being let back,” Bert added.

“I’m definitely not going to be able to go anywhere without my mom breathing down my neck. We weren’t even supposed to be here. We kinda snuck off…” Abi winced with a weird smile. “Yeah, my bad, guys,” she apologised to Bert and Dash. Dash placed a hand on her directly on top of her head. 

“Group responsibility. We all messed up. Let’s go take our lumps.” 

“Sorry, Meadow,” Abi said. 

“No, it’s okay. I liked seeing you again. Oh, I could move closer, do all this,” I gestured to the workstations I had set up on the raised platform, “near a shelter?” 

Abi’s face lit up, and she grinned wide, “That’s a great idea!” her face fell, “Though maybe give it a few days? We’re gonna be in so much trouble. I doubt we’ll be able to do much at all for a looong time, but we might be able to convince our parents to let us help a hero,” she scrunched her face closed and wiggled her body like she was running on the spot while making a high-pitched noise. “I can’t believe you’re Raccoon Knight! Mind-blowing!” 

I smiled at her, though she couldn’t see it through the helmet. “Ready to head to the shelter?” 

Abi nodded, still grinning. The boys gathered their things and we took off. 

I let Bert keep hold of Fufu to make sure we had two armed people. Dede snickered, her spearhead glistening in the dimming light, warning away anyone who dared to prey on us. I noted down any interesting junk on our path to collect later on. Elel would protect my camp in my absence. I trusted her completely. 

They hadn’t walked that far, their shelter was only a few blocks away. My friend had been so desperate to find someone she trusted so she could find me, the civilian me, that she had risked her life to venture through the city. Even if it was a small distance, that didn’t change the fact it was dangerous right now. 

Maybe their punishment was deserved for making their loved ones worry, but I felt a warm feeling at the idea she cared that much. 

No one was waiting for me stuck in a glue prison when I made my way back to my base. Elel still did her job, even if she hadn’t needed to fire. A security guard was still useful even if most nights they did nothing. Maybe a bad analogy, as most security guards had been easy to give the slip when I used to scavenge the mall.

I sat down in front of the warm fan, stretching out my new robotic legs. 

Stars twinkled overhead as the sun began creeping past the horizon. I traced the constellations, real and self-made, with a finger. Space was fascinating, full of mysteries that no one knew the answer to. When I imagined my power, I imagined it as a bright, burning star all on its lonesome, with no planets to look to. So she had looked elsewhere, searching the cosmos for someone, something, anything to talk to. She’d found me crying my eyes out after I had been dragged back into an impossible situation that I couldn’t ever see the end of. Then she’d given me a gift, the ability to fix that problem. Even bad smells didn’t bother me anymore. 

“Thank you,” I said to the stars, to my star. I felt a spark, deep within an organ I didn’t own. The feeling had been so brief it felt like I imagined it. I hugged my arms around myself. “A hug, for you,” I told her as I clutched onto myself. 

She didn’t respond, though I didn’t mind. 

I stayed to stare at the stars for a little longer. Mom would worry if I lingered too much, but a moment more wouldn’t hurt. 

Mom stumbled into the little motel room, groaning like a zombie. She kicked her boots off, locked the door behind her, and then fell face-first onto her bed. 

“Hey, Mom,” I said. The TV continued to play colourful cartoons, unaware of the state of Brockton Bay. 

I always kept the volume low, so I heard her as she mumbled, “Hey, Meadow,” into the blankets. 

I removed myself from the surprisingly comfortable bed to turn on the microwave in the kitchen that was attached to our bedroom. As the bowl of stew spun around inside, I leaned against the counter to look over at Mom who was still collapsed on the bed. 

“Abi’s okay. She found Raccoon Knight to ask her for help.”

Mom turned her face towards me, “But you’re Raccoon Knight?” 

I nodded. “She figured out that I’m Meadow pretty fast, as well.”

“Oh, Meadow. Are you okay?” 

“Of course. I’m glad my friend’s alive, and trading my identity to her and her friends in exchange for that. I’m fine with it.” 

Mom pulled herself up off the bed to walk over to me. “So long as you’re okay. They’re not going to tell anyone, right? From what I saw of Abi she wasn't’ the most… subtle… person.” She peered over my shoulder into the microwave. “Whasthat?” 

“Stew. We made it together. They wanted to help me fix things. I’m gonna have to move closer to the shelter, though, since I don’t want them walking through the city when it’s all messed up.” 

“Did you meet their parents, then?” 

“Huh? No, they came alone.” 

“Alone? Are their parents insane?” 

I let out a nervous laugh, “They snuck away to find me. They did say they were gonna be punished big time for it.” 

“Good. Not good that they snuck out without telling anyone, that part is insanely dangerous but good that they’re willing to take their lumps.” 

The microwave dinged behind me. I removed the bowl and placed it in front of Mom on the counter with a spoon. “Bone atrophy!” 

“Do you mean ‘bon appétit’?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

Mom snickered, shaking her head. She sniffed the stew before taking a cautious mouthful. “Not bad,” she said with her mouth full of food. 

We sat in silence for a little bit as she recharged herself with the food. 

“If you’re worried about them going out on their own, why do you let me out on my own?” I asked. 

“You have powers. Not that it justifies it, but that’s how I rationalise it in my head. To be honest, Meadow, I’m terrified for you. I wish you could stay inside and play video games all day, but I know how it is for people with powers. They drilled that into me when I agreed to foster you. People with powers have to use their powers. Besides, it’s not that much different than when you were in the Wards. With the exception that there are no adults I trust looking after… you… Why did I agree to this?” 

“Because you trust me?” 

She stared at me with a raised eyebrow. Then she sighed. “Yeah, I do. Just tell me, Meadow, is that what you want to do? No doubts? No ifs, ands, or buts?” 

“Yes,” I said with confidence. 

“Then okay. You can keep doing it. I’ve already asked if they’ll let me check on you, so expect to see me a few times. You said you’re moving near a shelter?” 

“Yeah, the one in the Docks, near the edge of the city.” 

“That makes it easier. Maybe stick near there? I’d feel better knowing you were in shouting distance of PRT officers.” 

“Okay,” I smiled at her. She smiled back. 

Chapter Text

Kid Win’s costume had been partially replaced with mismatched pieces of dark-coloured PRT gear that fit in pretty well with his red-orange costume. Black went well with most things, but it obviously wasn’t his usual gear. He looked like a homeless person’s coat, where they’d sewn on patches of whatever material they could find even if it didn’t match with the original material. A necessity more than a fashion choice.

His hoverboard kicked up dust as he reached the ground in front of me. People were looking at him with a mix of awe and hatred. I’d been speaking to the people from the shelter, some of them blamed the heroes but when I asked how they could have done better, they didn’t have answers. As he landed he kicked a pedal on the edge of the hoverboard that caused the whole thing to teleport away in pieces. 

He waved at the people around him before turning to me. “Raccoon Knight. Got anywhere private we could speak?”

I looked around. My new camp had a lot more visitors than the old one did, meaning there weren’t that many private places. We were only around the corner from the shelter – which was more of a big tent than an actual building – so I had to keep Elel de-activated so she didn’t end up glueing lookie-loo who came to see what I was doing. I craned my head around to look at the street behind us. It was empty enough.

“How about there?” I pointed. 

“Uh, sure,” Kid Win said as he began to walk over. 

I followed along by his side, waving down a concerned-looking citizen who I had recently given a coat. Grateful people liked to protect the person who helped them. Although I had only been here for a short day, I had plenty of thankful people, especially those who worked in the overcrowded shelter. Food was scarce, and so were clothes, making two of my many services extremely useful. My ability to fix things had never been handier to have. I even managed to get some cars working, though the roads wouldn’t allow for much travel with most of them being flooded or smashed or blocked by the gangs.

Once we were a decent distance away, Kid Win stopped me with a hand gesture. He looked around to make sure no one was close. 

“Here,” he held out a small plastic box with wires attached to it. “Thought you might want her back. I didn’t even want to take her from you.” 

I took her in my hands, holding onto her as if she might leap out. “Elel,” I said. 

“I would give you Efef back as well, but…” 

“But what?” 

“She kinda exploded. Sorry.” 

“Exploded?!” 

“More like burned out, but she isn’t going to work any time soon. After I tried to pull her out of your microwave setup the whole thing overloaded and set fire. Since I made her with the same stuff they shove in batteries, we had to treat her like toxic waste.” 

“Oh.” 

My world felt a little bit less bright knowing Elel no longer had her sister. I’d found them as a pair, and even when they were taken away from me I at least got to turn Elel’s sunglasses into parts for the sonar scan. Efef never had that luxury since they didn’t let me take anything but my armour and weapons with me. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Kid Win frowned. He looked behind us at the camp. “Nice setup you’ve got. Is that a sonar tower?” he gestured with his thumb towards the metal framework tower I had the new Elel setup on. 

I nodded. 

“Cool. How do you stop it from bursting everyone’s eardrums?” 

“It’s technically not sonar, just the same idea. The whirly thing at the top,” I pointed to the weather-vane-looking piece of metal that was spinning in the breeze near the top of the tower, “detects people by using air pressure–” 

“Kinda like Stormtiger?” 

“Yeah, exactly. But that’d detect everyone at once, so that part,” I pointed to the cloth bag nestled inside the crisscrossing metal pipes between the three metal poles, “is what I call the bellows. It makes a big blast of wind that the detector can read from.” 

“Then what, it rings the bell and the turret aims at people? What does it shoot?” 

“Glue. You’re right about the bell, wrong about the turret.” 

“I wouldn’t mind a restock of that glue, by the way, it’s been useful for my builds.”

“You’d need to get me the resources, I’m running low right now, but okay.” 

“I can do that. Same as before?”

At my nod, he continued, “What was I wrong about?”

“The turret detects people by blood, not by fake sonar.” 

“By blood? Oh, maybe by scent?” 

“Exactly. I gave it a smelling system that can detect tiny little differences in the blood of people in range. For anyone whose blood is in the machine, it won’t glue them up.” 

“Sounds like it might fall apart on siblings, but the design is neat for what you’re working with.”

“Thank you,” I grinned at him. He smiled as well.

“I also came here to tell you stuff. Two things,” he held up two fingers. “One, Vista is sorry about snapping at you. Though she isn’t ready to see you yet or even admit that, so pretend I never told you.” 

“Okay. I didn’t blame her, by the way. We lost… we lost a lot of people.” 

Kid Win frowned, “Yeah… In more positive news; we found Panacea. Though it’s a whole thing and she isn’t ready to start healing again. Speaking of, don’t suppose you’ve seen Stalker around?” 

“No, I haven’t seen her. I’m glad Panacea is okay.” 

Kid Win shrugged, “That’s fine, we’ll find her eventually. Watchdog says she’s still in town, we’re just not sure where. Panacea hasn’t opened up much, but she mentioned Tattletale spoke to her. We’re not sure of their motives right now, so maybe keep your distance if you see the Undersiders. And that’s all the information they wanted me to deliver. How’re you, Meds?”

“I’m okay. As okay as you can be after all of this. I’m sorry for leaving I just ne–”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“I feel like I do.” 

“Well, I don’t want an apology, so tough nails. You’re still out here helping, even if it’s not by our side. I mostly just miss talking shop with you. Oh, Armsmaster woke up, as well.” 

“That’s good. How’s he doing?”

“He’s on a lot of pain meds, but everyone is treating him like a hero so I think he’s managing. Doctors have high hopes for his recovery, and Panacea being back means it might be sooner rather than later. She might even get to your legs like she promised.”

“She promised that?”

“Kind of,” he wobbled in hand in a so-so gesture, “She bumped you up her list pretty far since Glory Girl begged her to help, but I think she puts Wards on priority anyway,” he shrugged, “Last I saw her, before… before this,” he gestured around him, “she seemed like she just wanted to stab everyone around her. She was so tired she fell asleep while I was rambling about the potential of quantum computing.”

“I’ve never met her. I only spoke to Glory Girl a few times. She got in trouble because she met me in civvies, then I got distracted and we just never ended up talking again.”

“Yeah, Gallant told me about it. I like your forge, very… rustic. Guess I’m too used to sci-fi crap. Does it work okay?” 

“I’ve been using it to make stuff that I need in good condition like spikes. They’re basically just big nails, really. What I really wanna do is make spears for everyone.”

“Spears? You planning on making a militia?” he chuckled.

“I thought it might protect people from the gangs. I don’t know how well it translates from fantasy to reality, but in medieval times they used spears because anyone could use them. Swords require too much training.” 

“Fantasy?” 

“Yeah, it might be unrealistic. I just thought it seemed like it might be true.” 

“No, wait. Do you think knights are make-believe?”

“Of course. Did you think they were real? Magic and dragons aren’t real either, Kid Win, sorry to break it to you.” 

Kid Win’s mouth hung open before he grinned at me. “Dragons and magic? Not real. Knights, spears, medieval times, all that jazz? Real. People really did run around with swords and spears and live in castles and stuff.” 

“That can’t be right,” I couldn’t believe it. Why would they put them alongside wizards, dragons, and fairy creatures? “Then why did my book put them with wizards? I even watched a movie where they made up a whole fantasy island called Britain. That same movie had aliens!” 

Kid Win laughed, hard. “No, Meds. England is real, you can see it on maps. Where'd you think New England came from?"

"They named it after a real England?  I just thought they liked the fantasy name a lot, like the last name Griffon!"

He laughed again, "Holy shit, I need to tell Vista about this.”

“I’m not making fun of you, Knight,” Kid Win’s voice turned serious in an instant. “It’s okay that you didn’t know. Just a funny misunderstanding, yeah?” 

“I… I guess.” 

“No need to guess. Look, I won’t tell Vista unless you let me. We’re friends, Knight, or at least I think we still are.”

I bobbed my head, “I think so. I would like to get to know you more. I feel like I barely knew any of you,” I rubbed my right arm. 

“Sure, we can hang out sometime out of costume,” he looked around before continuing, “‘cept it might be awhile. Little busy with things. Hey, at least we get to hang out in costume. You should patrol with us, we could always use the extra hands.” 

“That sounds nice. Would give me a good chance to gather stuff that’s further out.”

“Cool. Well, speaking of it, I’ve gotta get back to it before Vista takes out the Merchants herself. Oh, keep an eye out for them, they’re a lot bigger than they used to be. I’ve had to stop them from doing some… horrible things. Maybe spruce up the defences here with Elel?”

I thanked him for the warning and he took off on his hoverboard. If the Merchants were gathering new members, that meant Trash Man might still be around for me to get my revenge. Better defences for the shelter sounded like a plan, and with Elel back in hand that should be a breeze. I’d need to defend against more than just physical attackers, especially if the Undersiders started having bright ideas. I suppressed a shudder at the thought of Skitter trying to fight me. I’d made preparations for her after our first encounter, and I could only thank my lucky stars I hadn’t needed to use them yet. 

Figuring out how to mark ‘friendly’ people from ‘enemies’ might be difficult. Maybe I could just ask the people around here for a blood sample and keep using that system? Then if they needed to let someone new in, I could teach the people who were using the shelter how to add people. Except someone might try to sneak in a mean person. If I only teach the system to the workers, it might not be so bad. Workers were less likely to want someone who was looking for trouble to come in. 

They also definitely needed to be armed. Finding marshmallows in the ruins of Brockton Bay has been hard so far. My meagre supply of containment grenades was running low already with only five of them left. Using so many of them against one person hadn’t been my brightest idea. Someone at the shelter might know where a convenience store is still standing, preferably one that has been blocked off and not looted. My glue was a little easier to make but harder to make throwable. 

I mulled it over for a while as I organised some of my materials. 

New plan; Teach the workers the blood detection system and get the blood of all the people who are at the shelter. Then, start with arming the people around here with spears, just in case. After that, find marshmallows. 

***

As a makeshift solution, the spikes made for okay spears. Just strap one onto a long stick and it would work okay for stabbing. I’d need to make something sturdier in the future, but I felt a little better about leaving the people I was supposed to be protecting for the afternoon. Getting their blood hadn’t taken much convincing, they’d all seen the types of people roaming around and were thankful for the defence.

I needed supplies to keep them safe, which meant unfortunately leaving them by themselves for a little bit. There was a deep feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach at the thought of someone attacking the shelter while I was gone. 

Rain began to trickle down, pitter-pattering against my armour. A little rain wasn’t going to stop me from my task. A middle-aged man called Derrick from the shelter told me the location of a mall that hadn’t been hit too hard by the waves. He seemed nice, if a bit jumpy, so I decided to trust his intel (that’s spy speak for information). Going out alone probably wasn’t my best call. So long as I didn’t tell Mom I had ventured out this far from the shelter she wouldn’t be upset. Was it lying if you just didn’t tell someone something? 

The mall was a gigantic building with Weymouth Shopping Centre in giant metal text bolted above the doors. I’d been here a few times, mostly around the back where they kept their dumpsters. It was close to my old mom’s apartment but she always told me that if I went inside I would be trampled to death by a million people. No crowds were here now, I wasn’t going to be trampled to death. 

As I got closer I could hear smashing noises echoing through the wide empty walkway that made up the majority of the inside of the mall. Someone was here, though it wasn’t a crowd – it didn’t sound like that many people. I couldn’t see anyone through the glass doors, but I could see something thrown out of one of the stores that lined the edge of the mall. Whoever it was, they were making a mess. Glass lay littered almost everywhere, along with various bits of trash, and even a few mannequins that had been ripped apart. 

The automatic doors didn’t slide open as I approached. Dede’s spearhead acted as a decent enough crowbar to pry them open. I tried to sneak as best as I could, making sure to avoid stepping on any of the broken glass. I held Fufu in my left hand, stabilising her against my shoulder so I could hold Dede in my right at the ready. Since Fufu was on a strap, I could drop her at a moment’s notice to grab Dede in both hands. 

I heard a voice talking inside the store that was currently being smashed to bits. Adjusting my radio didn’t let me hear them any better, they were speaking in hushed tones and the loud crashes that interrupted them weren’t nice to listen to at a high volume.

I had only heard one person’s voice, at least I think I did. Was it better to call out to them rather than sneak up? 

My question remained unanswered as a woman exited the building. She looked like she was ready for the beach more than the chilly weather of Brockton Bay, with her tank top that ended below her chest in a line that looked like it had been put into a paper shredder and her jean shorts that would barely count as underwear. As she turned to look at me, I could see her face had a ton of makeup, it reminded me of the owner of one of the hotels near my house, her name was ‘Madame Clara’ and she was nice to me, even if she smelt like smoke.

The woman stared at me for a while before half-shouting, “Now who the fuck are you supposed to be?” 

“Um, my name is Raccoon Knight. I’m a Tinker, I was looking for supplies. I’m not here to stop you from doing… whatever it is you’re doing. What are you doing?”

She licked her lips before spitting to her side. “This whole fucking place didn’t have a single goddamn carburettor, can you believe it? Decided to trash it a little as revenge. Didn’t even have sparkplugs.” 

“Oh! I have sparkplugs,” I searched through one of my coat’s many pockets to find them. I found three in total, one was a bit too rusty to probably work. “You can have them if you want. I don’t really need them.” 

She eyed me with suspicion. “What’s the catch?” 

“No catch. Just wanted to help. What do you need them for?” 

“Knew there was a catch.” 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I was just curious.” 

“Make up your fucking mind!” she stomped over to me and snatched them out of my hand. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“What’s a ‘Tinker’ anyway? Made up a whole title to say you like to tinker with stuff?” 

“It’s the PRT classification of parahumans who can do what I do, which is make cool devices, stuff out of sci-fi,” I swapped Dede to a new head to show her off. The woman flinched back before realising I wasn’t going to hurt her. 

“Looks like junk, ain’t sci-fi… I guess that makes me a ‘Tinker’ too.” 

“Oh!” I looked away, covering my eyes with my hand. “I’m so sorry.” 

“What’re you talking about?” 

“You don’t have a mask on.” 

Through my fingers, I saw her patting her face. “Motherfucker. I knew I was forgetting something.” She ran her hands through her messy blonde hair, “Well, whatever, fuck it. We gonna have a problem here?” she squared her shoulders and stood up a little straighter.

“I’m not looking for trouble. I won’t tell anyone about your face.” 

She stared at me for a bit before shrugging. “Alright, fine. Got any fancy gadgets that’ll help me find what I’m looking for?”

“Nope! But I could help you look if you help me find what I’m after.” 

“Mutual agreement. Alright, wicked, that works. What’re you after Raccoon Girl?” 

“Marshmallows.” 

“Are you fucking shitting me? Marshmallows?” 

“They’re useful, and I can use them for a ton of different things.” 

She shook her head muttering something I didn’t catch, “Whatever. I’ll help you find your candy, little baby, just find me my shit first,” she stretched out a hand for me to shake, “Deal?” 

I grabbed her hand and shook. “Deal.” 

***

‘S’ as the woman told me to call her, didn’t seem that interested in talking. Whenever I tried to start a conversation, she would grunt or give me a one-word response. Maybe not talking with someone who might be a villain was a good idea, but there was a curiosity burning at the back of my brain that wanted to get to know her more. I’d never directly interacted with a cape who wasn’t part of the Protectorate, Wards, or New Wave, and I was interested to see how her life worked as an independent. Except, I’d seen her face, and she didn’t want me to piece together who she was as a cape, because then I could tell people I knew her face. What could I even do with just knowing her face? It wasn’t like I’d remember what she looked like later on or even be able to describe much aside from the bright makeup she wore or the clothes. If she stopped wearing makeup or did a different style, I wouldn’t recognise her at all. 

I didn’t have spare masks in my coat, an oversight on my half. I’d given the few domino masks I’d managed to take with me to Bert, Dash, and Abi so they could operate without people knowing who they were. I also told them to style their hair differently, and to wear clothes they wouldn’t usually wear to make them different from their civilian personas. The PRT had told me to carry myself differently in costume, which wasn’t too hard to do since I felt more confident when I was being Raccoon Knight. Hopefully, that advice would make sure no one else would put two-and-two together on their identities, I still felt horrible about that man seeing their faces and knowing their names. They’d get back to me on their codenames the next time we met up. 

I spotted a sleek, red car in the middle of the mall on a raised platform that was surrounded by a rope attached to golden poles. When I pointed it out to S, she jogged over and flung open the trunk. Her face dropped. 

“Fucking shitstains.”

“What’s up? And why is there a car here? Did someone drive it in here?” 

“It’s a show car, they do raffles and shit. Look at this,” she gestured to the engine block. 

I peeked inside. The engine looked useful, each part hummed with ideas of what I could use them for. Maybe I could make transport to make future trips easier. It’d need to be all-terrain to get over the rubble and… oh, I understood. “It’s broken.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” she kicked the bumper. 

“I could fix it.” 

“So fucking could I. I know engines, I know how to fix them without your charity,” she got closer to me, jabbing a finger towards me. 

I held my hands up to show I didn’t mean any harm, “I was just offering, wasn’t insulting you. I didn’t know what you were capable of.” 

She stared at me for a long moment then grunted. “Sorry. Just had a rough day. Tired of everything going wrong at every possible moment. I needed a win,” she sighed. “Well, nothing for it. Let’s go find your marshmallows, Raccoon Girl.” 

“Really? Don’t you wanna fix this?” 

“I’ll do it later, get moving already.”

I grinned even if she couldn’t see it. Honestly, I hadn’t expected her to follow through on the promise, I was just happy to help even if I didn’t do much. 

Finding a candy store didn’t take much time at all. A lot of it had been looted already. Candy tended to have a longer shelf life than most food even if it wasn’t the best for protein and such, so it made sense people would stockpile it as a ‘just in case’ food. We found a few packs of marshmallows still on the shelves. I gathered them into a backpack. 

“Don’t these places usually keep more stock in the back?” S said. 

“They do?” 

“What do you think happens when they run out? They gotta sell more of this crap.” 

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” 

“What’re they teaching kids in school these days?” she muttered, shoving her way past the counter to go through a door labelled ‘Employees Only’. 

“I didn’t go to school,” I informed her as I jogged to catch up. The door led into a hallway that led to two more doors. The first we tried looked like a break room with chairs, tables, and an empty fridge with its doors flung open. They had a countertop as well but no appliances. 

The second door we tried was locked. 

“Fuck,” S spat. She took a step backwards, pressing her back against the other side of the corridor, before trying to kick the door below the handle. It bounced in its frame but didn’t open. A few kicks later she gave up. She looked over at me. “Don’t fucking laugh at me. Shit worked on TV.” 

“I wasn’t gonna laugh? I might be able to get us in.” 

“Then why didn’t you say so before I almost broke my foot!” 

“You seemed like you knew what you were doing.” 

She shook her head, stepping aside to let me try. I fished a small mason jar wrapped in paper out of one of the inner pockets. The acid inside sloshed around as I unwrapped the jar. A plastic spoon handle acted as a spout, sticking out of the top of the metal lid. I pulled back the tiny latch that stopped the acid from flowing out of the spout while it was in my pocket, and then I poured a drop onto the lock, being careful to not get any on my armour. As the drop fizzed against the metal, I closed the latch and began to wrap the whole jar back up. One drop should be more than enough. 

The acid popped and crackled as it enjoyed the delicious metal meal. S watched the acid eating away at the metal with a look I’d often seen on Kid Win when he was tinkering. After a minute, the acid had eaten enough of the metal for the lock to fall out of the hole and onto the floor. I withdrew a stick to poke the lock further down the hallway. S shoved open the door and whistled. 

“Nice stuff. Might make some for myself.” 

Beyond the door was a small room crammed with shelves that were also crammed with boxes. 

“Hit the jackpot here. If you want candy I guess,” S said, rummaging through a box. 

I left her to it, scanning over the labels on each box. I wasn’t sure why the owners would just abandon all of this, they could have retrieved it to sell somewhere else. With the amount here, I could make more than just marshmallow grenades. All of the gummy candies here alone would supply me with more collagen than I would ever need for healing paste. I’m sure there were materials in the rest of the boxes that would be useful as well. What could you turn chocolate into, I wonder?  

A box of marshmallows presented itself, hidden away at the back of a row of shelves like it was trying to hide from me. I ripped it open to see a whole box stuffed full of packets of marshmallow goodness. Perfect. 

A loud crash interrupted my thoughts. The roar of an engine blasted through the mall, louder than any car I’d ever heard. 

“My ride’s here!” S said. She left the room, chewing on a red liquorice stick. 

I wasn’t sure if I should follow, but hiding might give the wrong impression. I followed S out, making sure to hold onto Dede but keeping her low to show I didn’t plan on attacking whoever had arrived. 

As we stepped out of the candy store, S waved at what could only be described as a monster truck. Exhaust pipes jutted off it, spewing black smoke as the driver sped towards us. A slanted metal pyramid had been bolted to the front, similar to what you saw on the trains at the trainyard. It shoved aside the stands, informational screens, and other mall stuff that stood in its way before screeching to a sudden stop in front of us. Two men were sitting on the back of the truck bed, one closer to the turret that had been strapped onto the car. 

They jumped down just as S said, “Hey, babe!” she waved to the driver as he kicked open the door. 

He was wearing a simple costume that looked more like jeans and a t-shirt than anything. I could tell it was a costume from the mask he had over the top half of his face, and the cape that he had to tug free from the bottom of the seat. A logo had been spraypainted onto the t-shirt, but I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be, it just looked like squiggles. 

He smiled at her, his teeth didn’t look healthy then his smile dropped as he looked over at me. “Who’s this cocksucker?” 

“Chill,” S stepped in front of me. “Just some kid looking for sweets. No harm to us.”

“Fuck you mean ‘no harm to us’, bitch? She’s seen your fucking face.” 

Another man with a gaunt face rounded the truck from the passenger’s side door with a baseball bat in hand. The two men who had leapt down went back to grab their own weapons, a crowbar and a piece of plywood. All three of them were wearing coloured bands around their wrists. 

“She’s just a kid, Skids. She ain't gonna tell nobody.” 

“Don’t tell me what she is and isn’t gonna do, skank. Hey, cocksucker,” he moved his head so his chin pointed towards me, “got a name? Or should I just call you a skank too?” 

“Raccoon Knight.” 

“The Ward?” he screeched

“She’s a Ward?” S said. “You didn’t tell me that,” she jabbed a finger towards me. 

“I left! I’m not part of the Wards anymore. I’m independent now.” 

Skids sneered at me. “You gonna go crawling back to that speedy prick with my girl’s identity?”

“No, I promise I wouldn’t tell anyone.” 

“C’mon, Skids. Let’s just go.” 

“Shut up, bitch,” he shoved her aside to get closer to me. “We got a real problem on our hands here, ‘cause I don’t believe you. One. Bit,” he spat, literally spat, I felt the saliva hit my helmet. Good thing I was already drenched from the rain. 

“I just wanted to get some supplies. S helped me, I wouldn’t repay her by telling people her face.” 

“Her name is Squealer, you fat little piggy.” 

“Skids! I gave her a fake name so she wouldn’t piece it together!” 

“Shut up I know! She needs to respect your name, she needs to know it so she realises who she’s fucking with. You get that girl? We’re the motherfucking Merchants, the baddest motherfucking gang this side of the motherfucking East Coast. We’ll turn you into a goddamn slurry if you mess with us. Got it?” 

I already agreed I wouldn’t do it, so I just nodded. His threats were kind of pointless. Mouse Protector told me that some people were like birds, they puffed themselves up to make themselves seem bigger than they were. 

“Fucking say it, shitstain.” 

“I got it. I won’t tell anyone I’ve seen her face, like I said before, I never planned to.” 

“Don’t tell me what I already know, cocksucker! Just get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”

I pointed to the store behind me with Dede, “But, I need to get my marshmallows.” 

“What did I just say?! Get the fuck out of here before I commit some goddamn infanticide!” He whipped his hand out to point towards the entrance to the mall they had smashed through. 

Squealer frowned but didn’t say anything. 

I needed those marshmallows to help save people, same with the gummies. There might not be an opportunity like this again, most places were ransacked already. 

“I can’t. I need those supplies.” 

Blue fields appeared around me in a ring as Skids stepped backwards. Squealer yelled something incoherent, but I was already moving. The fields shoved me back as I tried to sprint through them, sending me toppling to the floor. I swapped Dede to her airblast head and fired towards Skids but the shot was reflected as well, slamming into my breastplate. It didn’t hurt, the blast wasn’t that strong, only close to a punch in strength. I shoved a hand towards the field and found it stronger than when I had run into it. The field became darker and darker as it become harder to push through.

Aiai warped the floor but didn’t move the fields. The twisted space looked strange with the fields folding in and around it. My brain hurt just looking at it. I let go to conserve her battery. If push came to shove, I could use her to get… no, I couldn’t hurt him. 

I swapped back to the spearhead and brandished Dede. Skids laughed. He told his men to surround me as he walked over to a planter pot that had been filled with small rocks. He scooped up a handful before walking back, while never taking his eyes off me. Maybe it required line-of-sight? Could I break it somehow? If only I had a flashbang. 

“You think you’re hot shit? Think you can make demands of the motherfucking Merchant leader? You’re just a stupid cunt.”

Squealer grabbed his arm, “Skids, she’s just a kid! You can’t fucking kill her.” 

Her arm slipped off his as it glowed blue and she stumbled backwards. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do, skank.” 

“Don’t fucking call me a skank!” 

“Shut up!” he gestured creating a field beneath Squealer’s feet that sent her stumbling further back. 

I tried stabbing the field to no effect. Kicking didn’t work either and it showed no heat on Elel’s vision. I wasn’t sure what to do, my panic made it harder and harder to think. 

Skids hesitated, holding the rocks just outside of the field. His men looked unsure, too. They were standing off to the side, holding their weapons at the ready as if I could get out of the field. If they thought I might, didn’t that mean there was some way to break out? Line-of-sight was potentially one, what could be the other?

I couldn’t really think of a way out, but I did manage to think of a plan if he did throw the rocks. Based on how his power worked they would probably hurt a lot when they were flung at high speeds, possibly even going through my armour. My backplate could inflate to act as a parachute, it might be enough to slow the rocks down.

Squealer tackled him, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a heap. They rolled away, both of them cursing up a storm. The field didn’t stop existing, but I could see the colour fading in intensity. The man with the baseball left to try to get Squealer off of Skids. After what felt like an eternity, I managed to push through the field. It felt like walking in high winds. 

The crowbar-wielding man sprinted towards me, giving me barely enough time to escape. As soon as I was free I slammed Dede down towards his knee, ducking as I did so to avoid the crowbar. He toppled to the floor with a scream, the crowbar clattering against the tile as he dropped it. His friend with the plywood slammed it into my side, but my armour took the brunt of it. The force of the hit caused me to stumble to the side. As I stumbled closer to the field, I lashed out with a blind swing that managed to hit him in the hand, sending the plywood flying. He stepped back, grabbing his hand. I kicked the man on the floor while using an airblast from Dede to send the crowbar away from him. 

The baseball bat wielder kicked Squealer off the top of Skids. I ran forward, using Aiai behind me to increase the distance between the two men I’d taken down and the new fight. I skidded to a halt, stopping just in time to stop a baseball bat from colliding with my face. Squealer managed to get up before Skids, who had blood trickling from his mouth. She kicked his head like a football. 

I dodged another swing of the bat and made some distance so I could fire Fufu towards the man. The shot went wide, and so did my second. I cursed as he slammed the bat right down onto Fufu. The bottle ammo holder crunched before flying off, sending stink pellets everywhere. The PVC pipe that was her barrel splintered as the bat collided with it. I dropped her out of instinct to stop the bat from hitting my fingers. 

I grabbed Dede in both hands, then fired three consecutive punches of air into the man’s stomach. He keeled over but didn’t drop the bat. A field appeared, shoving Squealer away from Skids. She toppled backwards, slamming her back against the wall of a store. She seemed uninjured. A quick check over my shoulder showed that one of the two men was dragging the other man towards their vehicle. 

Skids rolled to his feet, stumbling as he steadied himself upright. Squealer bolted through one of the stores, disappearing from sight. 

Skids smirked at me, “Looks like you’re on your own, possum-cunt,” he coughed hard, and a little blood spluttered out. “Fucker.” 

I stepped my way around his field towards the store Squealer had escaped through, keeping an eye on the men nearer the vehicle and Skids and the baseball guy. Skids slapped a hand onto the back of the baseball-wielder. “You good, Roach?” 

Roach nodded, standing himself up, “Winded me real good. But I’m good.” 

I threw one of my remaining marshmallow grenades towards them while they were distracted. Skids waved a hand and the marshmallow veered off-course, sending it sailing harmlessly to the floor where it inflated to beach ball size. 

I shuffled closer and closer to the door, hoping to make a quick break for it. If he placed a field, I’d bolt immediately and just hope no one hit me in the back. 

“Should we stop her?” Roach asked. 

Skids stared at me for a long moment. He shook his head. “Leave her. Let’s go,” he spat blood on the floor before heading over to his vehicle. I took my chance to run out of the store. 

The doors leading out into the parking lot were still opened up, one of them had been cracked below the handle by a boot. There weren’t many cars here, and the few that remained had broken windows. I approached one with a familiar blonde woman inside. 

She had pulled wires from out below the steering wheel and was twisting them together. Squealer looked at me with a startled expression as she heard my footstep on the tarmac. 

“Oh, just you. Thank fucking god. Where’s Skidmark?” 

Skidmark? Skids? “Uh, he left, let me go.” 

“Alright. Get in, we need to get the fuck out of here, now,” she said as the car rumbled into life. 

I ran around to climb into the passenger side. A moment later and we were driving through flooded streets. She seemed to know a path that avoided the roads in bad condition and the roadblocks people had set up. Now that I thought about it, the Merchants were probably the ones who set up those roadblocks. 

She bit her lip and tapped her fingers against the steering wheel as we drove through the city. 

“So… where’s your hideout or whatever?” she asked, her eyes glancing over at me for a split second.

How am I going to explain this to the people at the shelter, let alone the Protectorate?

I pushed my face into my hands. This was going to be a long night. 

Chapter Text

Squealer stared dead ahead as we made our way through the remains of Brockton Bay. She gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were white. The car rumbled across ruined roads, bumping up and down as we hit potholes that no one was around to fix – not that anyone fixed them before Leviathan. My body ached with dull pains, especially my ribs. I could already tell I was going to be sore tomorrow.

“I’m so fucked,” Squealer said out of the blue. 

“Why?”

“Skids doesn’t like it when people betray him. I just couldn’t let him do it, had to be the hero.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck you sorry for? It’s my fault, shoulda told you to stay inside.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“He’s just so damn determined. He gets an idea in his head and he has to do it, even if it’s stupid. I could not have a dead kid on my conscience,” she chewed on her lip. 

“Thank you. For saving me, I mean. I had a plan that might have helped but I had no idea how I was going to get past his fields.” 

Squealer glanced at me for a split second before locking her eyes back on the road. We sat in silence for a little while with only the sounds of the car chugging along through the streets.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Fuck. Are you gonna arrest me when we get to that shelter of yours?” 

“No? Why would I do that?”

“Ain’tcha a hero?”

“I am. You haven’t done anything illegal, though. Nothing to arrest you over.” 

I stared out the window at the passing buildings. This area remained standing in good enough condition that I could see signs of people living there. Holes in buildings had been repaired with wooden planks, and the remains of cars had been shoved to the side to clear the way. These people had started to rebuild their homes with what little they had left. Rebuilding places was something I wanted to do as well. Doing it by myself would take a long time, too long to matter. If I could make construction drones to aid a team of volunteers from the shelter the process would be a lot faster. They probably didn’t trust me much right now, though the food and clothes probably helped. Maybe in a few days time they’ll trust me enough to help me rebuild at least a home or two. 

Squealer cursed, slamming a hand against the steering wheel. I scanned the surrounding area with my eyes but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. 

“What? What’d you see?” 

“Nothing, sorry. I just realised I left my truck back there with them.” 

I frowned, “I had to leave Fufu behind, too. I could have salvaged her parts if I just got to grab them.”

“Fufu?” 

“The one that looked like a paintball gun. She was my only ranged option. I lost Efef and Kiki recently too, and now Fufu? It’s just a lot.” 

“She?” 

Great, another person was going to judge me for naming my devices. They were family, and I missed them like I would a family member. 

I nodded once, turning away to look out the window again to avoid her pitying eyes.

Squealer exhaled a laugh, “I name my things too. That one back there is Bertha, and she’s a mean mother. That turret on her back shoots explosive rounds. Combined with her considerable girth, and that cow-catcher on the front, she can bulldoze through solid concrete walls. She chugs through fuel like a motherfucker, and I love her for it.” 

I blinked as I caught up to what she was saying. She was like me, in a way. It was nice, knowing I wasn’t alone. Armsmaster named his things boring stuff like ‘Halberd Mark two-point-seven, nano-thorn edition. Kid Win didn’t bother with even that, calling them his ‘hoverboard’ or ‘laser blaster’. It felt too mundane for something they had crafted themselves. They spent a lot more time on things than I usually did as well, how could they not get attached to their creations? 

“We can get her back. I want to get the remains of Fufu and raid that candy store. We can go back when they leave.” 

“They ain’t leaving. We were gonna take over the whole place, set up shop there and make it a party zone. Loud music, lots of drugs, and even a chop shop so I could get more parts. Seemed like a wicked good idea at the time.” 

“Fuck. That makes it harder,” I paused for a moment as an idea formed in my head, “You could make vehicles for the people at the shelter! I’m sure they’d appreciate the transport, and in return, they can use them to help us raid the mall. Less-than-lethal though, we don’t want to kill anyone.” 

“Less-than-lethal? Isn’t it ‘non-lethal’?” 

“The PRT said they don’t say non-lethal because people can die even from non-lethal methods, so less-than-lethal is a better way to describe them.” 

“Stupid legal jargon so they don’t get in trouble if they bean someone is more like it. Besides, most of those cockroaches probably don’t deserve your mercy, Raccoon Girl. You don’t need to go easy on them… You don’t need to go easy on me either. I’ve done awful shit, I ain’t proud of it but I did what I had to.” 

“Yeah, I figured. I’ve seen what the gangs do. I used to live in the Docks and it wasn’t like I was blind. But, I’ve also seen people who have nothing, and the gangs gave them something. I don’t think it’s right to hurt or steal but when you’re hungry and cold with no other options it’s hard to make the right choices. That’s why I want to help rebuild, so people won’t have to turn to that.” 

Squealer shook her head, “You’re delusional if you think that’s gonna change the city. No offence. We robbed charities that were just trying to help before. They’ll probably bring the fight to you whenever they figure out where you’re set up.” 

“I’m not looking to change the city. I know that kind of change is hard and takes a long time. But if I can help even just one person get their life back together, isn’t it worth it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been a big thinker. I’m not even sure I won’t go crawling back, to be honest,” she admitted. 

“You can do what you want, I’m not going to stop you. What I will do, is give you food, warm clothes, and people to help.” 

“Could do without that last one. People are grating.”

“Well, maybe when you’ve seen their smiling faces after you’ve built them a new car you’ll change your mind.” 

“Doubt it, but I ain’t gonna spit on your charity, Raccoon Girl. I’ll build your ‘less-than-lethal’ vehicles, even if I think the idea is stupid.” 

I gave her a thumbs-up. We drove the rest of the way in silence.

As we rounded the corner towards the shelter, I half-expected it to be on fire. Instead, I saw that it was fine and in one piece. 

A large green tent was where the majority of distributing food, clothes, medical supplies, and other things took place. The metal building that the tent was attached to held a lot of cots for people to sleep in while they waited for transport out of the city or as a permanent bed for those who couldn’t – or wouldn’t – leave. They had boards for information and places where people could try to find missing loved ones. My own little camp had been set up a healthy distance apart from the shelter in case they needed to add more to it. It also gave me a bit of privacy from the crowd of people who called the shelter home. 

An armoured truck with the PRT logo on the side had been parked just outside the tent. PRT officers were going back and forth from the tent to the truck to deliver crates full of supplies. My mom was probably among them and I wasn’t looking forward to explaining all of this to her.

I pulled a strip of cloth from my pocket using a knife to poke eye holes in it before handing it to Squealer. She snatched it and put it on after she parked the stolen car by the curb. 

It didn’t hide much, but Vista once told me that people respected a hero’s identity even if they were wearing something as simple as a domino mask. It would explain why no one outed heroes with the top half of their faces exposed. 

“Oh, I need your blood before you get out,” I said. 

“What the fuck? Why?”

“Turret defence system that detects people by their blood,” I pointed to the metal tower that was Elel. 

Her turret traced the PRT officers but didn’t fire. Thanks to Kid Win returning Elel’s brain, I could filter out people who had reflective faces such as the PRT officers. Their helmets were unique enough that I wasn’t worried about it avoiding certain villains. Most villains didn’t wear full-face helmets anyway, except for Skitter but she had those big yellow lenses that haunted my dreams. 

I pulled out a pin and held out my pointer finger to show her what I wanted her to do. Squealer sighed, holding out her finger for me to prick. After storing the blood in some tissues, I hopped out of the car to add the sample to Elel. Face recognition would be easier than blood, but I didn’t have a collection of criminals’ faces… except for the Empire. Maybe I should add all of those just to be safe. 

A few people waved at me as I passed by, and one of the PRT officers made a beeline straight for me. I picked up the pace, jamming the tissue into her scanner, and then turned around to jog towards the car as quickly as possible without raising suspicion. A gloved hand stopped me in my path. The PRT officer’s nametag read ‘Maddox’, my mom. 

“Hi, I made a new friend and I need to go get her out of the car we can talk later okay? Bye!” I blurted out the words as fast as I could before ducking below her arm. 

She grabbed the back of my gorget to drag me back.

“Oh, no you don’t! You were supposed to call me an hour ago. Where have you been?”

“There are people here, we can’t be seen talking,” I protested. No one was close enough to hear us, people avoided my camp for some reason, so I wasn’t actually worried we’d be overheard. 

She glanced around, pulling me closer, “Fine,” she whispered, “but you better believe you’re going to explain everything to me later on,” she clapped me on the back. “Good talking to you again, Raccoon Knight! Glad to see you’re doing well,” she half-shouted so people would overhear before marching back to the other officers. 

I waved at her then jogged back to the car, happy to be free of explaining. Future me’s problem now, sucker. 

Squealer jumped as I tapped on the window. She had been drawing something invisible on the dashboard with her nail. I nodded with my head towards the camp and she stepped out of the car. 

“There’s a lot of people here. I’m gonna get fucking recognised instantly,” she gestured to her clothes. Not many people wore so little clothes on such a cold day – unless they were women going to bars at midnight – though I wasn’t sure people would see her and scream ‘Squealer!’. Maybe she was just paranoid from her time dealing with criminals. 

“Want my coat?” I offered. Even if it was just paranoia, it was better to ease her into it so she didn’t get skittish.

“I… yeah, okay.” 

She took my coat, making sure to button up the front so no one could see her clothes. Fortunately for her, I enjoy big coats, so it wasn’t too short or tight on her taller body. 

Squealer rifled through one of the front pockets, her face scrunching in disgust as she pulled out my ham. 

“Why do you have sliced ham in here?” 

“Snack. There’s also some beef jerky, some loose chips, a few crackers, and some string cheese. Oh! Also a jar of salt and a jar of sugar.” 

“Why the fuck?” she shoved the ham back in the pocket and then wiped her hands down on my coat. It had seen worse than wet ham hands, so I wasn’t bothered. “Whatever. Let’s just go.” 

All the talk of food made me hungry, so I fished a cookie out of one of my utility pouches to munch on as we passed by the shelter towards my camp. The newcomer trailing behind me was drawing a lot of attention. People were on-guard for the potential threat of strangers. I waved at them as we went by to try to ease their worries. 

“They don’t seem too pleased that I’m here. Pointing spiky sticks at me is a bit much.” 

“Oh those are spears, I’m gonna make them better later on.” 

“Spears? You making an army?” 

“Just giving them something to defend themselves with. I always feel better when I have Dede,” I reached back to pat Dede, “so I thought they might with a weapon. I’m not expecting them to use it, it’s just in case.” 

“The PRT doesn’t seem too happy about it,” she pointed to an officer holding his rifle. 

“That’s in case someone causes trouble. Even normal civilians can be dangerous if they get riled up,” I explained as I hopped between pieces of rubble, pretending that the floor had disappeared and that if I stood on the ground I’d plummet a million feet.

“And you gave them pointy sticks to really direct their anger.” 

I stopped, wobbling slightly as I tried to balance on a chunk of concrete. “Huh. Yeah, I guess I did. Well, the PRT are here to deliver supplies. No one’s going to attack them for no reason.” 

I hopped onto the generator that powered my camp and then down onto the floor. My new camp even had a roof, though it was only a tarp draped across some sticks – At least it stopped the rain. 

I checked on the progress of the things I had been working on as Squealer said, “People never want more than they have. They never want more than their neighbour or someone else,” she said in a weird way.

“Is that sarcasm?” I asked. 

Squealer rolled her eyes behind the mask. “No, princess, I’m entirely serious.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad we agree. I really like the people here so far. I’m looking forward to getting to know them.” 

I flipped a switch to turn on a heat lamp above a container and then inserted a blob of grassy material into it. The ball was made from a mix of algae and seaweed that I found washed up on the beach, plus some moss and grass. Using a spoon, I scooped out some of the starter from the metal-eating acid and dumped it into a bowl of water. 

“You’re like my nephew. I was being sarcastic,” Squealer said as she walked up next to me. Her eyes scanned over my work, “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to make something that’ll deal with the flooding.” 

I removed my gloves and shoved my left hand into the bowl to knead the acid part away. The water should dissolve it all, then I could dry it and have the starter without any of the parts that would destroy the city instead of saving it. 

“Anything I can do while you’re doing that? Getting a bit antsy.” 

“Maybe start taking that car apart? Tools are over there,” I pointed with my right hand to a kitchen cabinet that I had resting on the floor. “Keys for it are in my right pouch, the back one.”

Squealer clipped open the pouch to fish out the keys. She scanned over my meagre tool selection as she opened the cabinet. The PRT supplied my tools before, and I hadn’t been allowed to take them with me. Since mundane tools worked fine for my projects I’d never bothered to make my own. I heard her tutting as she grabbed a few items. 

“Can I park it over here? Don’t wanna be doing it in the street.” 

“Sure, go ahead.” 

She left to grab the car. Kneading with one hand only sucked – At least it beat losing one of my fingers as the acid ate away the metal filling. Better to spend a bit longer kneading than to replace all of those components. Once I felt satisfied that I had rolled out all of the acid, I dried my hand and headed over to where Squealer had begun to set up. 

She parked the car half-under the tarp above, setting the driver’s side to face towards the camp. 

Squealer surveyed her parking job. “Good enough,” she shrugged. “This place is a fucking mess, how do you do anything here?” she moved the wood pile with her foot, causing it to blend with the metal pile.

“Hey! You’re messing it up!” I held my hands against her to stop her from ruining my work.

“Messing it up? It’s already a mess! You’ve got random junk everywhere,” she gestured to my hoard with a sweep of her arm. 

“It’s not ‘random junk’. Look,” I knelt down to separate the wood and the metal pile from their cuddling, “this is metal and wood. They shouldn’t mix, but they need to be close together because the wood usually has nails in it or brackets and stuff. It means when I get around to removing them I can just throw the metal into the metal pile. Wood also needs to be far away from the forge, but metal needs to be close to the forge, so I have the metal pile be a bit more oval-shaped so the wood is further away.” 

Squealer gave me a sceptical look. “Can they be somewhere else, at least? This is the best spot for the car because it’s close to the tools.”

“Oh… Maybe we could move the tools? If I move these piles then they’ll block the pathway I have to the forge. You can’t put stuff next to an open flame, it might start a fire.” 

“Okay, sure. Tell me where to put the car and I’ll put it there,” her voice was gentle. 

We spent a little bit to figure out the best place for the car. Moving the tool cabinet wasn’t an issue, and I agreed to move the plastic pile to where the cabinet had been. The new space let us park the car almost fully under the tarp. If needed, we could always expand the area the tarp covered since I had spare sheets of it. 

Most of the parts of the scavenged vehicle would be repurposed into tools for later work since Squealer needed better tools to do the more complex work for her vehicles. Whatever parts the car failed to provide, I could make using the piles of things I had around. Normally I’d hate to give up even a single piece of my hoard to someone else, but their new home would let them help people in the future. I still felt a little sad as I handed over a pile of screws for Squealer to use. 

Since she didn’t want to be recognised, I probably needed to start calling her something else. 

“Hey, S, what should I call you? I don’t want to give away your identity.”

She was half under the car, using a skateboard I had fixed up to slide in and out easily. 

“I don’t fucking know. Skids gave me my name, I was never any good at thinking of them,” she said, her voice muffled slightly from being under the car. 

“How about… The Mechanic? ” 

“Nope. Probably taken anyway.”

“Taken? You can’t take a name.” 

“Yes, you can. Cape names at least. All the good ones are gone already. Something simple like ‘The Mechanic’ is almost guaranteed to be taken.”

“Well, that’s dumb. There’s no one with that name here, so why should it matter?” 

“No idea. Next suggestion.” 

“Hmm. ‘Wheels’?”

“Nope, makes me sound like a cripple.”

“You’re not allowed to use that word. It’s offensive.” 

“Sure. Whatever. Next.”

“Carburetor?”

“That’s stupid. At least try.” 

“I don’t see you suggesting anything…” I pouted as I tried to think of a new name. 

“Yeah, well, like I said, I ain’t good with names.” 

“Oil… uh, Mage?” 

“What’s a mage?”

“They cast spells and use magic!” 

“Like a wizard? Next, you’ll tell me to call myself, ‘Grease Wizard’ or some shit.” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of cool, isn’t it? Wait! How about ‘Artificer’?

“Fuck is an artificer?” 

“Means a person who constructs things.”

“Fine, whatever, we’ll go with that.” 

“Cool! Okay, I’ll go tell people who you are so they stop trying to peek at the camp.” 

I skipped away before she could protest. We could always change it later on if she didn’t like it. I could also take the opportunity to find a bed for Artificer and get her on the food roster. We call that scavenging two dumpsters with only one backpack.

James brushed a hand across his beard in thought. He had a shiny bald head that I found myself staring at a lot. I imagined myself sliding a hand across it and finding it was smoother than ice. Then he’d turn into a werewolf, consumed by his beard! 

I shook myself out of my daydream to listen to what he was saying. 

“We have the bed free, and with you providing us with more food than usual it shouldn’t be a problem. I’m worried about her identity, however. We don’t really have a private room and I can’t guarantee someone won’t try to see who she is while she sleeps,” he explained in his deep voice. 

“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” I took a moment to think of a solution.

“There is a little office space in the back,” James suggested, “we might be able to drag a cot in there. Though, it’s not the most spacious area.”

“Really? I think that would work okay. Thank you!” 

“No problem. Uh, tell me, Raccoon Knight, is this woman dangerous? You were going to the mall last I heard and came back with a cape I’d never heard of before.”

“She isn’t dangerous… at least, I don’t think she is. She saved my life.”

“Good enough for me,” he smiled a bright smile. 

Something else pressed at my mind. Artificer had been with the Merchants. Back when the PRT had briefed me on them, I learnt that they often had addictions to drugs. I hadn’t asked her if she was addicted too, since I didn’t want to risk putting her closer to the person I hated in my mind. How many of my old mom’s problems could be blamed on whatever drugs she was taking? I’m not sure, but I don’t want Artificer to act like she did.

I decided to be safe, to cover a wide area just in case, “I think, though I’m not entirely sure – just a thought – that she might, maybe, possibly, have some kind of drug addiction. I haven’t asked her personally, so I can’t be one-million-percent sure. She came from an, uh, bad place. So she mi–” 

James held a hand up, “Say no more. I’m a doctor. I’ve helped a few people deal with withdrawal and I can be discreet. We’ll help her as best we can, which admittedly might not be the best that she needs. We have a lot of injured here, more than most shelters, and other shelters keep sending them over because we have three doctors plus a decent supply of recovery aid paste. I’ve offered to send a doctor over to somewhere bigger but then suddenly they don’t have the logistics to support them? Ridiculous. Sorry, not what you need to hear right now.” 

“It’s okay, doc. What do you mean by ‘recovery aid paste’? Is that my marshmallow healing paste?” 

“Yours? Um, I’m not sure. Could you show me your ‘marshmallow healing paste’?” 

I unclipped the plastic bottle that held it off my belt to show him. He lifted open the lid to poke a finger into the goo. 

“A numbing agent, remarkably similar consistency, and pink with white spots. Though, the glitter is new,” he twisted his finger around to let the glitter catch the light. 

“The glitter is so I can identify the versions I’ve made compared to the ones the PRT made.” 

“Young lady, you invented the recovery aid paste?” He looked shocked. 

“Yes! I also invented the thing that makes more of it.” 

“That’s… you’ve saved lives, do you know that?” 

“I mean I’ve helped people, sure, but I’ve also…” 

“No, no, not in your hero career – though I’m sure that’s excellent. Out in the field, your recovery aid paste helps paramedics stabilise people much faster than they could before. In the hospital, we use it as a non-addictive pain relief and a clotting agent, and thanks to the regenerative properties we can close up surgery stitches with minimal scarring. Children are often scared of medicine, but your paste is approachable with the colours and the marshmallow smell. You have helped people, Raccoon Knight, and that’s only in my hospital. I had no idea it was even you, they kept your name off it.” 

I found myself fighting back tears. I swallowed a lump in my throat and took a deep breath before trying to speak, “They didn’t want my name on it in case Mannequin tried to hurt me.”

“Ah, makes sense. Well, consider your secret safe with me. And on behalf of everyone who will never know that you saved them; thank you.” 

“It’s okay, I mean, no problem, you’re welcome. I don’t really… thank you.” 

He smiled at me then clapped his hands together, “Well, let’s see about getting your friend situated, shall we?” 

“Situated?”

“Set up.”

“Ah, okay. Sure!” 

I hoped Artificer wouldn’t be too annoyed with me thinking she was possibly a drug addict. After seeing what my old mom was like when she hadn’t taken drugs in a while, I thought it was better to err on the side of caution. If she decided it was too much and ran away, then that was her choice. Maybe she’ll stay after eating some of the stew I’m making?

Chapter Text

As the days ticked by boredom started to become a major problem for the people at the shelter. Once they got past the initial shock of losing their homes–and potentially their family or friends–people’s minds started to drift with the lack of things to do. They pulled their weight as much as they could at the shelter, but there was only so much work to do in a day. I’d handed over any board games or cards I found in decent condition, even if it meant losing a little bit of my hoard it was worth it. These people needed my help and that meant giving up some of my treasures to do so.

A few people had even approached me to ask for something–anything–to do. Even if it meant going out into the city, they didn’t care, so long as it would occupy their minds. 

I didn’t feel like sending people into dangerous situations, so I wasn’t going to ask them to raid stores or anything–but from our current position, we weren’t that far away from the trainyard. So, I told them I needed scrap metal–especially pieces of vehicles. Within a day, they had organised into groups that were lugging back more metal than I ever could have hoped to get on my own. Some even found a few old cars and shoved them all the way back to the shelter–which was impressive considering they didn’t have all their wheels. 

A couple of the group of volunteers were mechanics. Stacy and Pedro helped me and Artificer strip apart the cars to organise their pieces for later use. Within only three days, we managed to get a decent start on our project. Raiding the Merchants was looking more and more possible with each passing hour. 

Our volunteers were rewarded with some extra food to make up for the calories lost from exercising–and I spared a little of my healing paste to make sure they didn’t get tetanus from lugging around all that rusty metal. With all the recent use, my supply of healing paste was running dangerously low. If I didn’t get to raid that candy store soon, I was going to run out. 

Then, last night, I remembered that bones have collagen. Collagen is the most important piece of the paste–which I usually took from marshmallows. Marshmallows made the paste part easy, and getting gummy candy to do the same probably wouldn’t be too hard. But bones, bones were tough and rigid–not like a marshmallow at all–so I wasn’t sure how to turn them into a paste, but it was a good start. 

I’d have to think about it, but gathering some roadkill shouldn’t be too hard. I marked it into my voice recorder for future me to deal with. 

As I arrived at the camp I greeted the new volunteers as well as Abi and Dash, who were on their usual sewing duty. Bert lived far out past Captain’s Hill so he wasn’t usually around much, only giving occasional visits when his Aunt would drive him out. Except his Aunt didn’t like driving him out here, on account of all the horrible people roaming around. On top of that, he was still grounded. Unlike Dash and Abi, he didn’t live right next door to my camp and couldn’t convince his Aunty that it basically equalled community service to help me. Their parents had agreed to let them help them the ‘superhero’ in return for less time on their punishment and I’d had to keep a straight face as I agreed to be a responsible watchdog. 

When they were coming out to roam with me–after they were no longer grounded that is–we’d get to use their cool new disguises. At least they could help around here for now. 

Abi waved at me, holding up her poorly stitched coat to show me her work with a great big grin on her face. It wasn’t good work, but she was still learning. I gave her a thumbs up, which made Dash shoot me a dirty look. He’d told me not to encourage her when she had messed up, but her big smile made me want to smile and how could I resist?

As I went to check on Artificer, I couldn’t find her in her usual spot–beneath a car, covered in grease–so I went over to the lawnchair she had set up to read her magazines in, and I didn’t find her there either… and I didn’t see her talking to Stacy… my heart sank. She decided to leave, then? 

No. There was no use assuming things when I didn’t have all the facts. Assuming just makes an ass out of you and Ming, and Ming doesn’t deserve that!

Stacy–our new mechanic–might know where our head mechanic is, so I went to talk to her and found her elbow-deep in the front of a car, pulling out bolts from an engine with her wrench. She was wearing my shoddy attempt at sewing together denim into overalls. It wasn’t the best work since the denim resisted being poked with needles but it at least kept her clothes clean from grease. 

Stacy smiled at me as I approached, then leant back out of the engine while twirling the wrench around her finger. 

“Well, well, well. The boss has arrived,” she drawled in her Southern accent.  

“I’m not your boss. You can leave any time you want to–though, I am thankful you’re here to help.” 

She smirked, “Basically my boss. You’re younger than most but the rest of them already acted like nine-year-olds anyway. So being bossed around by an actual nine-year-old isn’t any different,” she sighed dramatically. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Anyway, what can I do for ‘ya boss?” 

“I’m fifteen!” 

“Sure,” she smirked at me again. I could never tell if she was joking or being serious, her tone of voice always sounded serious but her words felt like a joke. 

“Whatever. I don’t see Artificer around, did she… run off?” 

“Nope, she’s still around last I checked. Just hasn’t gotten out of bed, the lazy so-and-so. She barked at me when I tried to ask what needed doing, so I’d be careful poking your head in or she might just rip it off with her teeth. Decided I should just keep taking apart the one I was doing yesterday. Oh, and Pedro found out his mom is alive so he’s off visiting her, don’t know if he’ll be back.” 

“That’s… good. I mean that she’s okay. I don’t mind if he doesn’t come back, so long as he’s safe. And yeah, work on that if you want to, but don’t push yourself–we can take a slower day. I’ll go check on Artificer... Oh, good thing I have my gorget so she won’t be able to bite into my neck!” I pointed at the raised lip at the top of my breastplate that kept my neck safe from swords.

Stacy smirked at me again, as she usually did. “Best of luck, boss,” she gave me a mock salute before turning back to continue taking apart the engine. 

I stuck my tongue out at her despite the fact she couldn’t see it. 

***

Artificer had been given a room at the back of the shelter within the office space. The room wasn’t anything big–just a storage area they hadn’t been using–but it didn’t need to be big, it only needed to contain her cot and give her privacy.

I knocked a fist against the door, the metal gauntlet enhancing the noise to be a bit louder than I meant it to be. She didn’t respond. 

“Artificer, it’s me, Raccoon Knight. Um, are you okay?” 

I heard a groan inside and the shuffling of a blanket. 

“Can I come in? I have healing paste if you’re ill, though I’m not sure it’ll do much.” 

Another groan came from behind the door that vaguely sounded like, “Go away.” 

“I’m coming in, okay? I need to make sure you’re all right,” I told her through the door and opened it before she could protest. 

The room wasn’t big, the open door reached the edge of her cot with only a few inches of space spare. 

Artificer squinted as the light spilt in from the office behind me onto her face. She pulled the blanket up over her head with another soft groan. What little I managed to see of her face showed me that it was pale and her lips were chapped. 

I closed the door behind me, making sure to keep the handle down so it didn’t make too loud of a noise. With the cramped space, there wasn’t enough room for me to give her more room. It felt a little too much like I was looming over her for my taste so I decided to sit down on the floor criss-cross applesauce style. 

Only the light peeking under the bottom of the door lit up the impromptu bedroom, making Artificer look like a vague blob on her cot. I adjusted Elel to take in more light, letting me see as if the dim light were bright–though she struggled to make the faded colours brighter so everything looked like it had been covered in oil. 

“Have you been taking your pills?” I asked in a soft voice. 

Doctor James had given her little red pills to take, though I wasn’t sure what they did. She had been a bit down on her second day here, taking long breaks between small tasks. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but James gave her those pills that he promised would help. Yesterday–her third day here–she had been a lot more energetic than the second day–although not as energetic as she had been when we met–, so I thought whatever she was going through had been fixed. 

Artificer grunted in response. Not really a yes or a no, just a grunt. I frowned behind my helmet. 

“You need to take them. Where’d you put them?”

“What’s the point? It didn’t help much. I felt just as shit and I couldn’t even think right. Like a fog. I need meth, not some quack’s pills,” she rolled over to stare at the ceiling. 

I flinched, even though I already knew she had been taking it. My body felt cold like I had just jumped into the bay. I took a deep breath before trying to talk. 

“You can get through it. Wouldn’t it be better to not want to take it all the time?” 

“I don’t fucking know. This is all I know, Raccoon Girl. I don’t know how else to be, and this?” she waved a hand across herself, “This sucks horseshit.” 

“I know… but things that are hard are worth doing. Armsmaster told me that, and he’s pretty smart.” 

“Armsmaster is an egotistical prick. Son of a bitch had the gall to call my work ‘shoddy’. Fuck you, buddy, my work is great!” her voice rose as she insulted Armsmaster, almost returning to her old energy levels before she petered off near the end, “Ah, what’s the point? I don’t care. He was right.” 

“He wasn’t right. He was probably just angry he had to deal with your awesome cars!” 

Artificer flopped an arm over her eyes and groaned, “Your optimism is gonna give me a headache.” 

“Sorry. Just… is going back what you really want?” 

“Yes,” she answered instantly. My heart dropped. “No… maybe, I don’t know, okay? I hate this–feeling like this. I can’t even pick up a wrench without feeling like the whole world is just a tar pit. I’m drowning in oil and everyone’s just walking by.” 

“I’m not.” 

“What?”

“I’m not walking by. You’ve got me, at least.” 

Artificer laughed a bitter laugh that faded fast. “‘Course I get stuck with the Saturday morning cartoon character,” she sighed, “Better than nothing, I guess,” she frowned then ran her hand down her face, “Alright… I’ll take my pill… I’ll need some water.” 

I bolted up, “On it!” 

When I returned with the fresh bottle of water, Artificer was sat up on the bed, propped up with her back against the wall. She gave me a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes as I handed her the water bottle. After she swallowed her pill, I gave her a thumbs-up for some positive reinforcement. 

Artificer slid down the wall onto her side as her eyes unfocused. “Now, let me sleep, princess. I’ll be useful to you in a day or two.” 

“You don’t need to be useful. If it takes you a month, it takes you a month, no sweat. Don’t force yourself into feeling better. Take your time, take it slow. And I’m gonna be back later on with some food, so you better try to eat at least a bite, okay?” I pointed my finger at her while I waited for a response. 

She rolled her eyes at me. “Yeah, yeah. Now get out of here.” 

I gave her another thumbs-up and left her to rest. 

My brain felt weird as I thought about what just happened. It all felt so familiar, but the outcome had been different. Like watching a movie but the ending is somehow different than you remembered. Or maybe I was just viewing it in a new light, with a new brain.

Artificer hadn’t promised me empty lies. She’d taken her pill right in front of me without just promising that she would later. 

That made her different, right? 

I took a deep breath in to steady myself. She wasn’t my old Mom, even if they had some similarities. 

Maybe this time I could actually make someone better and not just run away like I did with her… 

Maybe. 

Back in the dusty motel, while sharpening Dede’s blade, I decided to etch a few names onto her, just so I would never forget them: Kiki, Fufu, and Coco. 

Maybe in the future, Fufu would come back to me, but even then she’d be different if I rebuilt her; A sister at best, not Fufu. 

With the loss of her, I needed a new ranged option. Dede’s airblast was great, but flicking between her heads wasn’t easy at a moment’s notice. And–as much as I loved Fufu–she had also required me to draw her before I could fire which made it hard to swap between her and Dede in the middle of combat.

What I needed, was something that attached to my arm like Aiai with all the stopping power of Fufu’s stink pellets. A lot of my stink pellet supply had been lost when Fufu was smashed to pieces, but making more wasn’t too hard since you could always rely on there being plenty of bad-smelling trash around–especially now. 

But who would deliver my stinky payload right into my enemy's faces? That was the big question.

I thought of a few ideas–some better than others. It had to be capable of doing more than just stink pellets, Dede’s versatility had proven its worth. Beneath my pauldrons, I had vials of a bug-killing liquid that would spray out as a cloud of gas if I twisted the dial on either shoulder. My new ranged option would probably be better off being able to do something similar since gas could be delivered even through most armour.

Maybe I could expand on the ‘puffball’ design I used for Shadow Stalker’s gear to deliver little tufts of gasses that did different things. One for sleepy time, one for killing gross bugs, one for burning away inanimate objects, etcetera. The possibilities were endless! 

Carrying all of those vials might be tricky, I’d need to design something that kept them safe since I had a habit of being hit in the chest. Or I’d need to design some other storage system that didn’t rely on plastic or glass.

Maybe I could mix and match? Part Mouse Protector’s electro-shock knuckle dusters and part Shadow Stalker’s puffball shooters with a side of slingshot? I wasn’t sure I could cram that many delivery methods into a small space, though. It would need to fit on the back of my hand, and at a certain point, it might stop me from being able to use Dede as well. 

Blegh. Why couldn’t Artificer or Kid Win be here to bounce ideas off of? 

Armsmaster would know exactly how to condense it all into one point, but expecting him to be here wasn’t reasonable. At least he was recovering, now. 

I sent a text to Mouse Protector to see what she was up to while also hoping she’d give me just the right inspiration to spark my new device to life. 

We hadn’t spoken much the past few days and truthfully, I hadn’t really wanted to. Her single-minded focus on taking down Ravager was admirable in a way, but she was so serious now, barely even making jokes unless they were about mulching Ravager into fondue or turning her into Swiss cheese. 

Maybe if I helped her take out Ravager she’d go back to being her old self? Either way, if I left her alone too long she’d forget I exist.

Me

hey MP what you up to????????

Mouse Protector!!!

On the prowl like a mountain tiger, kid.

My prey weeps.

Me

 ?

 what does that mean?

Mouse Protector!!!

Means I’m hunting wabbits. I’ve found the Furry Convention and I’m ready to eat wolf meat for dinner. She’s here, I just know it. Just need to lure her out with some tasty bait.

Me

 im very confused

 do you wont any help? i can help you get places with aiai and i can do maintenance on your awesome mega shock gauntlets

Mouse Protector!!!

This is dangerous work, kid, I can’t let you get hurt. 

Me

🙁

Mouse Protector!!!!

Don’t think I’ll fall for those puppy dog eyes.

Me

Mouse Protector!!!!

Damnit kid!!!!! Fine… you win. 🏆 You better be here in the next hour or I’m docking your pay. ⏱️

I leapt up to grab my gear without even sending her a text back.

Shuffling into my armour in the motel was probably a bad idea, but I had figured out a genius exit strategy that made sure no one saw me leave; I’d wear my armour under my coat and some baggy pants to disguise them, and I keep my helmet in my backpack until I found somewhere private to become Raccoon Knight! 

It made me look a little lumpy but no one should look twice unless they think that lumpiness is snacks strapped to me. Those poor hungry fools would never know they’re dealing with the excellent, magnificent, pontificious Raccoon Knight! 

I had no idea what pontificious meant, but it sounded cool.

I grabbed a handful of the tube-like pasta to munch on while we were staking out Ravager, they weren’t as good dry as they were cooked but they were made for good snack food. As I turned to leave the motel, Mom stepped through the door. 

“Hey, Mom, going out with Mouse Protector, okay, bye!” I said as fast as I could, trying to shove past so I could escape. 

She must have gotten a Brute power at some point because she felt like a stone wall when I tried to push past. 

“Meadow, it’s eight pm. You’re not going out now, it’ll be sunset soon,” she said in her best stern Mom voice. 

“Please, Mouse Protector needs my help!” 

“Is she injured and or dying right at this moment?”

“No, but–”

“Then she’ll be fine. She’s a veteran, she can get by one night without you. My brother’s coming tomorrow, remember? You’ll want to be rested.” 

“I don’t… Please, Mom, I just want a couple of hours to help her out. I’ll be back before midnight, promise,” I gave her my best puppy dog eyes. If they worked on Mouse Protector they’d definitely work on her.

She rolled her eyes, “Meadow you make that same face every time you want something. At a certain point, it stops working the way you want it to.” 

“This is real hero work, Mom, I could help put away a villain!” 

“Which villain?”

“Ravager! Mouse Protector’s archenemy!” 

“Which one’s that again? Is that the woman who can leave you bleeding out from a paper cut?”

“Mouse Protector said she’s not that bad, and besides, I can take care of myself,” I puffed out my chest to try to look confident. I hadn’t been aware of what Ravager’s power even was, so I wasn’t actually confident. Mouse Protector would have filled me in when I got there… right?

Mom sighed, “Meadow, it’s hard enough letting you roam around the city. I finally started to feel better about it, knowing that you were just right next to a shelter. Then, you drag home a woman I’m pretty sure is a Merchant and now you’re wanting to chase some dangerous woman.” 

“Artificer, her name is Artificer, and she’s recovering from being with the Merchants. I gave her a second chance, isn’t that good? Please, Mom, it’s just a stakeout, we’re probably not even going to see her there. It’s intel gathering, like a spy movie.” 

Mom rubbed her eyes with her hands while letting out a sigh through her nose. 

“Eleven. You’ll be back by eleven or you’re not going to see Mouse Protector for at least two weeks… maybe more. I’m too tired to think of a better punishment right now so consider it TBD, okay?” she shot me a pointed glare. 

I nodded, fighting back an excited grin, “Okay, okay. Eleven. Wait… what if something comes up? Like we get ambushed? Could I finish that fight and then come back even if it’s late?” 

“Fine, you’ll have a grace period, but you better have an excellent excuse ready,” she tapped a finger against my head. “Now, go, before I change my mind. And in the future don’t tell me you’re going to get ambushed, it just makes me worry more. Actually… scratch that, please do tell me that.” 

I gave her a quick hug before rushing out of the building, “Okay, thanks Mom, bye, I love you!” 

She leant out the door to make sure I heard her yell back, “I love you, too!”

Mouse Protector had replaced her usual helmet with a motorbike helmet that had metal mouse ears welded onto the side. I realised then that I had completely forgotten to get started on her new helmet. A quick voice recording to remind myself later, I skipped over to meet her at her requested meeting spot on a park bench below a broken streetlight. The sun hadn’t set quite yet but the sky had begun to dim.

She was leaning back on the bench with her arms sprawled across the top bar, staring up at the sky with the visor of her helmet flipped up. I followed her gaze to see a couple of stars had peeked their heads out already, visible in the darkening blue sky. There were more visible now than Brockton Bay ever had at night. Maybe Leviathan showed up to let us see the stars again? Or maybe he was just a murderer who ruined everything.

I sat down on the bench next to Mouse Protector, my armour and gambeson protecting me from the cold metal. 

“The crow caws at midnight,” I said in a hushed tone while staring dead ahead. 

Mouse Protector huffed out a laugh, “I always wanted to be a spy. Didn’t have the brains for it, though. Good to see you again, kid. Are we shirking your curfew or sticking to it?” 

“I don’t know what shirking means, but I think I should stick to it. My Mom is worried about me, I don’t want to worry her more.” 

“Hey, alright, fine by me. Coming home safe and sound might encourage her to let you out more in the future anyway…” Mouse Protector tossed a can that I hadn’t seen her holding into the air then appeared next to it, now standing upright. She took a swig before casually tossing the can into a nearby bin.

“Come on kid, let’s go. We got scum to spy on,” she pointed behind her with her head before turning to walk away. I got up to follow after her.

We walked in silence through the streets of Brockton Bay, passing buildings that had survived the worst of the flooding. It still wasn’t a functional area, with no power–since the street lights were off–but having a roof over your head beat the alternative. 

The silence lingered between us like a heavy fog. I wasn’t sure how to start a conversation or even what I wanted to say to her. 

How did Leviathan go? Did you see what happened to Panacea or Shadow Stalker? Where you there when Armsmaster… All of them were too dark. I doubted she’d want to listen to me talk about my projects, especially since she hadn’t responded to most of my texts about them. After a certain amount of time, you get the message and stop trying. 

What else could we talk about?

Are you okay? Maybe… 

We walked, only our footsteps and the distant sounds of birds tweeting for company. 

“How are… How’ve you been doing?” I broke the silence. 

“Just peachy, kid.” 

I frowned behind my helmet. I was pretty sure that was sarcasm. Why did my brain suck so much with tone? 

I decided to keep the conversation flowing rather than trying to pry a real answer out of her, “What’re you gonna do after we get Ravager?” 

Mouse Protector stopped and I almost bumped into her. She didn’t face me as she spoke, “I’m going back to Boston once I’ve got her.” 

“What? You can’t! You’re supposed to be my mentor!” 

“I can fucking do that in Boston, kid,” she yelled, whirling around towards me. 

It wasn’t a physical attack, but the shock of her yelling at me made me stumble backwards as if she had shoved me. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, Knight. I didn’t mean to yell at you,” she held her hands up like I was a scared animal, “This place is just a shithole and I’ll be glad to see the last of it.” 

“I’m–” my voice squeaked a little from the tightness in my throat, “I’m making it better,” my voice wobbled making the message less confident than I had intended. I swallowed then took a deep breath to centre myself. I’m not going to cry.

Mouse Protector slouched a little in a silent sigh, “Yeah, I know, kid. And I think you’ll do a great job until someone comes along to kick down the sandcastle. There’s always going to be someone no matter what you do… You could come to Boston with me? We don’t have to break up the party just because I’m moving houses. Plenty of villains there for us to rough up.” 

I shook my head, “No. I can’t just abandon this. If I do I’ll regret it forever.” 

“Yeah, I know, kid. You were infected by the boundless optimism disease young. Nothing the doctors could have done for you,” Mouse Protector sucked in a deep breath through her teeth. “Alright. I’m done being a sad sack. Let’s go find Ravager before your Ma throws a hissy.” 

When she turned away I took the chance to lift up my visor to wipe my eyes with the soft part of my glove. Even though she had hurt my feelings, she was still my friend and I wasn’t going to abandon her. 

I had just over two hours to convince her to stay. 

Chapter Text

Stakeouts are pretty boring. 

Mouse Protector wouldn’t even let me munch on the dry tube pasta I brought. She said I should never eat crunchy food on a stakeout and that I also shouldn’t even be eating dry pasta! Mom had said the same—the pasta part, not the stakeout part—but I enjoyed the taste. 

We were waiting on top of a squat three-storey building across from the actual building we were spying on. My stomach hurt from laying on it for so long, but shifting around might draw attention so I had to stay still. Even bouncing my foot against the concrete didn’t stop me from wanting to just get up and walk around. How can anyone ever be still for this long?

Ravager—according to the person Mouse Protector roughed up a day ago—had her own little base of operations that was separate from what Hookwolf was using. She’d chosen a bowling alley to live in. A flat but wide brick building with a giant neon sign out front that showed pins being hit by a ball. They had electricity, based on Elel’s sight, but hadn’t bothered to light up the neon sign. I thought it’d be cool to see, but it made sense that they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves.

I idly swapped between Elel’s different visions just to fidget without moving. There were five people inside right now with one standing out the back smoking–none of them were Ravager. We’d seen all of these people enter the building in the last hour or so, with the exception of the smoking guy who had walked around the edge and hadn’t gone inside. 

Elel being back in my glasses made me so happy, I felt better knowing she had my back. I even got to keep the sentry version as an extension of her, like a twin sister. Or maybe she was a mother now? I wasn’t sure about the logistics. I considered giving her twin a new name instead. Lele? 

The night sky looked cool in Elel’s heat vision, like a burning painting. After a while, even that got boring, so I rolled a small stone beneath my finger across the lip of the roof while making soft little ‘vroom’ noises.

Rocks have existed for longer than any of us. Even a small one like this used to be part of something greater at one point. They get washed down by rivers and rain or chipped away by humans who want to put them on a roof. I wondered how far this little gal had travelled in the past one million years. Maybe she was once a mighty boulder, or maybe even a castle! 

Mouse Protector nudged me with her elbow to catch my attention. I followed her gaze to find a white van making its way towards the bowling alley. 

My infrared vision showed humanoid shapes as moving splodges of red, yellow, green, and blue. There were three of those splodges in the van. I couldn’t tell what their faces looked like—other than a demonic yellow-orange mess—but their outlines were enough to figure out that two were most likely women, and the third was either a mountain of a woman or a bulky man. That final figure looked like they could crush my head just by looking at me. 

I relayed their descriptions to Mouse Protector who just nodded once. 

The van rumbled to a stop in the employee parking spot outside the bowling alley. As the excited the car I got a good look at her–she was tall, skinny, and would have been better suited for being a model than a criminal. 

She did her makeup in a way that reminded me of old noir films. If you put her in a suit and gave her a cigar and a revolver, I wouldn’t question it for a second. She even had a cool scar that ran down the side of her face from the temple of her left eye to the lower jaw. Unlike those old noir movies, she wasn’t wearing a striking red dress, just a white blouse and dress pants with a coat draped across her arm.

On the other hand, the passenger who was in the back had a bodybuilder’s build with a wide frame to match. 

Hiding behind messy blonde hair was a surprisingly soft-looking face for a woman who had that much muscle mass. Scars and tattoos littered her muscled arms in a way that made her look even cooler—that is before I noticed the swastikas. Right, they were still nazis. 

Unlike her friend, she had opted for a dress, a simple black one that had those really thin spaghetti straps. It seemed impractical for a fight. Maybe they weren’t anticipating one. None of them had masks on, which made me feel a little bad about this. 

Then the final woman stepped around the car and Mouse Protector’s whole body went rigid.

Her lightly tanned skin showed toned muscles on a thinner frame than her bodybuilder friend. It didn’t stand out too much, I doubt anyone would give her a second glance on the street about it. Though, her pretty face might turn heads. Long, straight black hair that had a glossy sheen had been tied back into a practical ponytail. Something about her posture, the subtle lean, the hands in the pockets, all of it oozed with confidence. 

I placed my hand over Mouse Protector’s hand. It probably didn’t help much.

We watched the three women talk for a minute before they headed inside the bowling alley through a side door. My radio struggled to pick up their voices from this far away, so I didn’t get to listen in to the conversation. 

Mouse Protector marked down their appearance and the time they arrived in her notebook, her hands trembling as she scrawled across the paper. 

“You okay?” I whispered to her. 

“No, kid. She always was a piece of work, but seeing her with the Empire…” She left the sentence unfinished. 

We continued to watch. Elel’s infrared heat vision showed me the freshly arrived trio meeting up with the other people inside. I reminded myself to thank Kid Win for designing a version of heat vision that could see through walls. Elel already pulled her weight, but this just made her all the more special. I gave the side of my head where she was hidden a gentle pat.

The group inside stood in a loose circle just talking for a while. We had wanted to plant some listening bugs into the building but we’d arrived as the first few people had so we didn’t get the chance. 

“What’s the plan?” 

Mouse Protector tilted her head to look at me, “Nine total, one known cape. We can take them,” she nodded to herself. 

“I don’t know… We don’t really have much in the way of attacking multiple people at once. I don’t even have Fufu anymore and I’m low on containment grenades. Are you sure we can take on nine people?” 

She breathed in to say something but I continued to speak. 

“Who isn’t already distracted by something else? I know we took on groups of the Empire and the ABB at once but they were fighting each other. If you give me a day or two I could make something that will take them all out at once.” 

“We don’t have that kind of time! Our prey is right there, Raccoon, we have to take this chance. We might not ever have another opportunity!” 

“I… Can I at least make something that might help?” 

“Okay, kid. I trust you. We don’t want to take too long though, we don’t know if more people will be coming and every minute makes it more likely they’ll leave. Twenty minutes, okay?” 

I crawled back from the edge of the building and gave her a thumbs-up. She returned to staring at the bowling alley. 

Aiai helped me down from the building. These streets were clean-ish but did have broken glass and loose litter around. Not nearly enough to do anything with, though. Inspecting a broken storefront netted me nothing, the whole place had been picked clean. I did scoop up some glass from the smashed window, just in case. 

Seeing places in normal conditions made me happy and frustrated at the same time. I was happy whoever lived here could still enjoy their homes or stores but I needed trash right now, not normal working things. 

Then I found it. Not even a trash can, but a flooded sewer drain. 

Green water filled with various bits of litter created a foot-deep puddle at the edge of the road. I grabbed a water bottle out of my coat to fill up with the liquid, then pulled out the various bits of litter. Beer cans, wet paper, clumps of dirt, stones, a chunk of plastic I couldn’t identify, and a whole mess of plant matter that had clogged up the drain holes. By the time I had removed all of it, the whole thing had started to drain properly. A whirlpool of water chugged and churned as it washed away. 

Huh, guess I help even when not meaning to. Good job, me.

I pulled my new treasures away from the edge of the road into the picked clean store to give me some privacy. 

This wasn’t nearly enough to make what I had initially planned, but I could already see a new plan forming. Hopefully, this will be enough to even the scales.

Our bodies were pressed up against the brickwork of the bowling alley to reduce our profile as much as possible as we snuck around the edge of the building.

Everyone other than the guy who had been smoking was still inside, some of them in the process of making food others just lounging around. 

The muscle woman was lying down, trying to fall asleep from what I could tell, and the tall noir lady was resting on a couch in front of a TV in one of the backrooms. Ravager herself sat at the place they gave you bowling shoes, chatting with two of the others that had been inside before. 

We weren’t going to rush in wildly—that would just leave us outnumbered and surrounded. What we needed, was a distraction. Something that would pull as many of them together as we could manage without putting them on too high alert. 

Right now we were sneaking around to get a better layout of the building so we wouldn’t be caught off-guard while fighting through it. 

The building didn’t have too many rooms from what we could see peeking into windows. Most of it was the main alley and the dining area behind that. There was a kitchen where two bald men were making food, a storage room that had beds placed inside with a snoozy ogre of a woman resting in one of them, a staff room where the noir lady was watching TV, a bathroom that had most of the stalls smashed down, and an arcade with no machines that was only identifiable thanks to the carpet with funky patterns. The arcade presented a golden opportunity to us thanks to a glaring design flaw; a gaping hole in the ceiling where a bit of the hotel behind the bowling alley had crashed through. 

We took note of each one before using Aiai to pinch space up to the roof. The concrete roof was slanted at just the right angle to make walking on it awkward but not impossible. There weren’t any convenient skylights up here or any obvious way to even get up here, but we at least had the hole.

It was close enough to the entrance bar where Ravager was sitting, the storage room, and the kitchen, that plenty of them should hear our attraction distraction. The employee lounge was a bit too far away since they wanted to keep customers out of it. Noir lady didn’t seem like she’d be useful in a fight unless she was a cape, but muscle woman would definitely be good to take out of the fight early.

Mouse Protector pulled out a set of walkie-talkies. Using my duct tape, she taped them together while also taping down their buttons. They whined with an awful noise that I only had to suffer for a few short seconds before she dropped the package down into the room below. 

It wasn’t the loudest thing in the world, but the constant weird warbling noise would make people want to check it out. I could already see them running towards the room with Elel’s infrared vision. We ducked back behind the edge of the hole to make sure no one saw us. 

“Four responding,” I whispered to Mouse Protector, “Three men and the muscle woman from the van. Ravager is approaching but she’s walking.” 

We heard the door to the arcade slam against the wall as one of the men kicked it open. A stocky guy who had a prosthetic arm—since it was all blue on my infrared—led the charge. Muscle woman trailed closely behind him, her vague red blur of a mouth moving like she was speaking but I couldn’t hear anything over the wine of the walkie-talkies below. 

They surrounded the duct-taped package with weapons raised–all melee weapons, I noted. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even close to what I was hoping for numbers-wise, but I decided to drop my new grenade anyway before they realised it was a trap. I watched the plastic bottle housing tumble down towards the ground where we had dropped the noise-maker before ducking back behind the hole. 

One of them began to yell before a muffled ‘whoomp’ shut them up. 

After a moment retching noises overtook the whine of the walkie-talkies and Ravager started to yell orders for a retreat. 

Mouse Protector dropped a stone below, appearing down next to it. I followed her down with Aiai. 

All four were covered in a thick-green slime that clung to their every movement. They could barely keel over to throw up from the smell, with how restricted their movements were. The gooey dark green slime had exploded far enough to splatter the distant walls with flecks of it. We kept a wide berth around them, hoping it would keep them down long enough to take out the rest.

“Ravager!” Mouse Protector yelled as she sprinted full force towards the woman. 

She wasn’t even running despite her yell for a retreat, just sauntering away at a slightly faster pace than she had walked. A flash of steel warned me of the incoming fire before she had even shot the gun. I tackled Mouse Protector, wrapping myself around her to take the bullet with the back of my armour. 

It hurt, to say the least. My body stumbled as if someone had kicked me in the back. The air exploded out of my lungs as my body forcefully gasped. Surprisingly, I still managed to grab a containment grenade from my bandolier and hucked it loosely in the direction of the gun. I didn’t get to see where it went but she didn’t fire any more bullets as I collapsed to the ground. 

Mouse Protector teleported before she came tumbling down with me. I heard something unclip from her belt and her grunt as she threw whatever it was towards Ravager who screamed but didn’t go down since I could hear her footsteps fading away. 

“You good, kid?” I felt her hands running across the back of my armour. “Didn’t penetrate your armour. Wish this was wooden so I could say your ‘bark is tougher than your bite’.” 

I groaned as I rolled over to pull myself to my feet. The four covered in slime were still stuck and/or retching up their dinner. 

“I’m good, just bruised and hurting.” 

“That reminds me. Oh, Ravager!” she sang as she rounded the corner. Before limping after her, I turned to salute the four covered in my tangle mine. 

“Enjoy the sticky situation. Wait… Look’s like that’s a… I’ve used that one before. Uh… stucks to be you?” 

Nailed it.

As I exited the room I saw Mouse Protector scooping up her thrown frisbola from where it had tangled around a metal railing. That must have been what she threw at Ravager. 

Noir lady had stopped watching TV, exiting out of the staff room, joined by two of the other Empire members. The smoking guy was still outside smoking, unaware of what was happening. One was a man with a similar build to Ravager, he was covered head-to-toe in so many tattoos that I could barely see his skin. The other was a stocky woman with a wide jaw and a half-shaved head. They both had significant enough muscle mass to make me not want to be hit by them or the baseball bats they were wielding. 

At least if I had Fufu I could incapacitate them without getting close. With only three marshmallow containment grenades left after my failed attempt to hit Ravager, I didn’t have high hopes for not getting hit at least once. Even if I was guaranteed to hit, those would only cover three of the five here.

Ravager had sauntered away towards the lanes where she did a dramatic turn to face Mouse Protector and I. 

“Well, then. It comes to this, you annoying little pest. I’ll let your little friend there leave if you agree to fight me one-on-one, Mouse,” she projected her voice in a way that made it easy to hear her despite the distance. 

Mouse clenched her hands against the railing, her entire body ready to leap at her enemy despite the distance. 

“Fi–” 

“Wait!” I cut her off before she could agree, “You’re not alone, Mouse, let me help.” 

Her head whipped around towards me. I could feel her glare even through the motorbike helmet. Then, her shoulders dropped in a sigh. 

“Looks like you’re going home empty-handed, Ravager, because; No deal! Tell her the consolation prize, Knight,” Mouse Protector waved her hand towards me like she was holding an invisible microphone. 

“Oh! That’s right ladies and gentlemen, despite not winning she’ll still get to go home with a luxurious, one-of-a-kind, prison sentence! ” I spoke into the invisible mic. 

Mouse Protector nodded, she started to say something but a knife embedded itself into the railing, kicking us both into action. We ran away from each other, bolting around the railing to get closer to the bowling alleys.

Mouse threw the frisbola towards Ravager who dodged to the side and swung a knife down at thin air as if expecting Mouse Protector to appear there. 

The man and woman were sprinting towards Mouse Protector with their weapons primed and ready. Noir lady just leaned against the wall, watching the fight without a care in the world.

Ravager whirled towards me when Mouse Protector hadn’t appeared as she expected, a blur was all I saw before I felt something ricochet off my gorget. Even though I knew it hadn’t hurt, having something thrown at you at high speeds makes you flinch. I stumbled to the side, and my now clumsy run became worse as I reached the polished bowling alley lanes. I failed to get my feet under me in time and fell face-first onto a lane, continuing to slide for a little while across the polished surface. 

Another knife bounced off my back, unable to penetrate my armour. 

I rolled to the side to get my feet under me. 

Mouse Protector appeared behind Ravager just as the baseball bat-wielding man went to swing at her. She had already started to swing a fist giving Ravager barely any time to respond but somehow she effortlessly dodged to the side. 

I flicked Dede to her pogo-stick head to get towards the man and the woman faster. We could deal with Ravager better if those two weren’t chasing after us. Mouse Protector could hold her own for a little bit.

The two women lunged at each other, with flashes of steel from a knife and electrified gauntlet both. They danced across the slippery floor with ease, never even getting their feet caught in the gutters. 

Mouse Protector ducked and weaved while blocking with her shield, barely getting any counterattacks in past the onslaught of stabs.

I hopped past them, another knife was thrown my way but it left only a scratch that would buff out easily.

The man and the woman stopped their sprint towards Mouse, instead staring at me with open mouths as I pogo-hopped towards them. 

Miss Militia told me it wasn’t a good idea—that I shouldn’t have even bothered practising it—but this moment was exactly why I had. 

Front-flipping forward using the energy from a strong bounce, I pulled Dede out from under me as we twirled through the air head-over-heels. Practising how to position her had been the hardest part, much harder than learning to front-flip. 

We sailed towards the man, who began to stumble backwards at the rapidly approaching metal-covered teenager. 

Dede flicked to the hammer head just in time to crash into his shoulder with a sickening crunch. He went down with a scream as I finished my flight by landing on my knees.

The landing took the air out of me and my knees screamed in pain even through the dampeners in my armour but– I had done it.  

His friend was already turning to run as I tried to get to my feet. My legs failed to get under me as I fell back down onto my butt. I took a moment to catch my breath. 

Someone yelled in pain behind me, I turned to see Mouse Protector clutching her side, blood leaking past her fingers. 

I pushed through my aching legs, scrambling to my feet to rush towards them. 

Ravager pressed the attack, hopping forward to trade more blows with Mouse. With one hand pressed against her side, she began to falter, failing to block or dodge as many blows as she had been. Most failed to pierce her armour, but a few got past the gambeson on her arms to leave cuts that spilt out way too much blood that sizzled as it touched the air. 

“You’re sloppier than a drunk,” Mouse Protector said. 

She teleported around her prey, trying to dodge and block as much as she could, appearing and disappearing in a way that I could barely follow. 

Ravager kept up, she had started stabbing at the new position just as Mouse Protector vanished from sight. She blocked the incoming blow with her shield, also anticipating her foe's moves. 

Ravager dodged back, avoiding the blast of air from Dede that she couldn’t have seen. Mouse used the break to make some distance and catch her breath. 

“Ravager, more like Smashager, you barely know how to use those blades. You know the pointy end goes in me not the flat?” 

Ravager cracked her neck then whistled, “Lass, get over here and help me. Two on one just ain’t fair.” 

Noir lady, Lass, stopped her lounging, she walked over to us at a casual pace. 

Ravager used my momentary distraction to leap towards me before changing direction to slash at Mouse Protector who had come running to my aid. 

Mouse vanished, avoiding the blow and managed to punch Ravager’s other arm that had come up to strike her new position. Electricity crackled in the air as the gauntlets delivered their shocking payload. 

Ravager’s body clenched up but she barely seemed affected, getting right back to swinging at Mouse as if she hadn’t just suffered thousands of volts. Tougher than a normal human.

Lass held an arm out to her side as I rushed back in to take a swing at Ravager. The air warped as it did around a fire but the effect was more intense and focused. It formed into a long thin blade of shimmering air with no crossguard. She picked up her slow pace little by little as if drawing out the tension. 

We continued to try to fight Ravager but even with the both of us swinging she dodged every blow. The two women continued to fight around the lanes in a way that I couldn’t keep up with. My aching legs and the slippery floor made it too hard to keep my balance for follow-up swings and my single attacks weren’t doing much. 

Then Lass started to sprint at us full bore, blade at the ready. 

I readied a grenade, throwing it as hard as I could at her but she ducked to the side, avoiding it with ease as she continued her sprint towards us. Her angle shifted, heading in my direction instead. Towards me ! 

I pinched the space with Aiai below my feet towards the door of the building. Lass picked up the pace and swung right as she reached me. 

Even with armour, dodging remained an effective tactic—especially against unknown powers. My training paid off as I slipped past two swings of her imaginary blade. 

I could see the edge of the blade as if it were real, but the whole thing bled out from those edges in shimmering air that made it harder to follow than it should have been. 

She pressed the attack, making it hard for me to swing back. Her longer reach put her outside of my kicking range, giving me little to no options but to continue dodging. We danced around the warped space, hopping between each location with neither staying on one side too long. 

My goal was to get one of us away from the other by closing the space before she could step over, but she seemed to have picked up on it, refusing to let me have even a moment of space. I didn’t dare close it while she was halfway across. At least it warped her blade away from me a few times. 

Her face was completely passive and blank as she tried to stab a teenager in the gut. 

Past my attacker, I could see Mouse Protector had drawn her own sword and had even managed to cut a nasty gash across Ravager’s arm. Both of them were fighting with one less arm than usual. Mouse traded between holding the side wound with her shield arm and her sword arm as she needed. Ravager didn’t bother to hold onto her wound but the arm wasn’t as strong as it had been. 

The shifting blade scraped past my right pauldron, cutting through it like butter. 

Her lunge gave me an opening for me to stab Dede’s spearhead into her arm. I felt bad, about cutting someone, but she had been trying to stab me. And, by the looks of my pauldron, if she had hit me my armour wouldn’t have done much. 

We stumbled away from each other, taking a moment to catch our breaths. Her face remained neutral, barely bothered by the cut in her forearm that went down to her bone.

She hadn’t even made a noise when I hit her. 

Lass titled her like a bird, her eyes locking onto the gash in my pauldron. I looked to find that the green liquid from my bug spray vial had begun to dribble down my arm. She had only damaged one of the three under there and it wasn’t poisonous to humans so I wasn’t going to die or anything… but she didn’t know that. 

I rubbed Dede against it, smearing some on my gauntlets for good measure. 

“That was my secret weapon,” I bluffed with as much confidence as I could muster, “It can kill you in three seconds flat,” if you’re a bug that is, “and I didn’t bother to make an antidote, since I made myself immune to it.” 

She stared at me with her blank face, not even a little bit of emotion peeking through. 

Her sword vanished from existence with a simple wave of her hand. She turned away, walking towards the door of the building. 

I held in my sigh of relief in case she could still hear me. 

The moment she was far enough away I bolted back towards the fight. 

Except, I wasn’t needed. Mouse Protector held her sword against the downed Ravager’s throat. She glared up at Mouse as if her eyes could cut her. Maybe they could? Well, Mouse didn’t seem too bothered about it so I decided she didn’t have sword eyes.

Blood gushed out of the many cuts Mouse Protector had suffered from with little pops and sizzles as it touched the air. Small bits of smoke fell out of her wounds as if she was bleeding smoke. I wasn’t even sure how she was still standing with that much blood leaving her. 

I didn’t bother to tell her what I was doing as I scooped up healthy handfuls of the paste to rub into the wounds. She saw me coming, or at least trusted me enough to not suddenly move as I smeared it into the cuts. Mouse winced at the sudden cold of it but didn’t take her eyes off Ravager. I kept my own eyes out towards Lass who had just reached the exit to the building. I made sure to keep watching as she sauntered out past the glass doors. 

Ravager stopped bothering to hold herself up with her elbows, instead collapsing to the ground on her back. 

“Been a while since we fought like that, little mouse,” Ravager’s voice was quiet and breathy.

“Consider that fight, on the mouse.” 

I snorted with laughter as I made sure I got all the wounds closed up with the paste. Ravager sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Why do you have to be so insufferable? Can’t we just have a good, clean fight for once with none of your fucking puns,” she spat. 

“No can do, pickled plum. Now, shut up and enjoy your bowling party.”

“Ugh. I always hated bowling. Fuckers didn’t trust me so they put me away from their main operation to fester here,” she turned her head to look up at me, “Did you end up killing Lass then? There’s no way she would just leave me be unless she was good and dead.” 

“She left just a second ago. We had a nice conversation about poison and she decided to leave. Speaking of, we need to get going soon or she’ll be back. Not to mention the people we gooped.” 

Mouse Protector bobbed her head once, “Guess we won’t be getting all of them. Call the PRT and I’ll wrap up our present to take with us.” 

I grabbed my phone and dialled. 

“Taking me with you? Where are we going?” Ravager asked. 

“Turn over,” Mouse demanded. 

“Buy a lady a drink first,” she purred. What a weird request to make right now.

Mouse tapped the downed woman’s side with her foot, nodding upwards with her head. “Be a good little dog and roll over.” 

Ravager smirked at her with lidded eyes before rolling over onto her front. As Mouse tied her up I managed to get through to the PRT. After a brief–but pleasant–conversation with the nice lady on the other line, we had backup racing towards us. 

“Why are we taking her with us?” I asked Mouse Protector as my phone call ended. She had zip-tied Ravager’s arms together and propped her up onto her knees. 

“I want to make sure she’s put into a holding cell personally. Boys in Blue can deal with the non-parahumans just fine. Can’t trust them to keep this cheese grater contained unless I see it with my own eyes.” 

“Cheese grater?” she sighed, “At least it recognises my talents.” 

“Speaking of, this is some good stuff, kid. I barely feel a thing anymore. What’d you put in it? Mouse tranquiliser?” 

“You should be fine since you’re bigger than a mouse.” 

She chuckled at my joke and my entire day was made better for it. I grinned behind my mask. Mouse prodded a finger against the wound lifting it up to her face to sniff the blood-soaked paste. She had to lift her visor up a little to smell it, but she didn’t seem bothered by it. 

“Smells like blood,” Mouse noted. 

“No shit,” Ravager drawled in a way that was most likely sarcasm. 

I’m already improving my sarcasm radar. Take that, Artificer!

Mouse Protector lugged Ravager to her feet using the zip-tie as a handhold. 

“Best start tying up the–”

A noise like metal grinding against metal at high speeds came from just outside the bowling alley doors. We turned to see a whirling mass of blades, hooks, and saws rip through the glass doors. 

“Oh, looks like my ride’s here,” Ravager laughed. 

Fuck.

Chapter Text

We ran, because what else are you going to do when a truck-sized chainsaw wolf is chasing after you?

Hookwolf came in through the main entrance, giving us time before he reached the bowling lanes. Unfortunately, our only two options for an exit meant we had to go past Hookwolf or run across all of the lanes to the back exit, giving Hookwolf plenty of time to catch up to us. 

Mouse Protector took a moment to stare at Ravager, refusing to let go of her wrist. Ravager’s smug grin looked like it hurt her face with how wide it was. Before I could yell at her to let go and run, she let go and ran, grabbing ahold of my hand to drag me along with her. 

My boots needed better grips to handle slippery surfaces, I noted, as I almost tripped several times.

We ran past the bowling ball holders and the benches, leaping up the short staircase that led to the raised area that held the exit door. Hookwolf veered course, staying on the raised area and never even touching the bowling alleys. Our awkward path to freedom let him get uncomfortably close. 

We heard people still retching as we ran past the arcade, and with the worse timing possible, the muscly woman stumbled out of the room. 

She could barely stand up straight. Her skin was shaded a sickly green and her already messy hair was a bigger mess. Before she even had time to take in the scene, she swung a punch at the passing Mouse Protector. 

Mouse ducked, avoiding the clunky blow while delivering an elbow to the woman’s stomach. That hit was more than enough to cause her to stumble, holding onto her stomach and mouth as she fell back into the arcade. Thankfully, that also put her out of the path of Hookwolf, who didn’t seem like he’d care about running over his allies. 

The exit door led into a tight concrete corridor. We took a moment as we barged through it to glance left and right. Right led further into the building, and left was a glass door that let in merciful light from the outside. 

We took the obvious choice, sprinting around the short bend and breaking through the glass with a shoulder barge from Mouse Protector. Her armour would protect her from the worst of the glass. 

Our feet met the tarmac just in time to hear the hallway filled with the awful noise of metal scraping against concrete. He flowed through the tight corridor as a metal blob, exploding out of the doorway like lava from a volcano. 

We weren’t fast enough. That much was obvious. The open space of the parking lot left little in the way of cover, giving the much faster Hookwolf the advantage. 

Sounds of gnashing metal grew louder and louder as we continued to move as fast as our tired legs could manage. My legs ached, already injured from the stupid front flip I did. Our injuries slowed us down too much. We were fucked. A shadow loomed behind us.

A car-sized paw slammed into me, sending me flying across the parking lot. 

I twisted my body in the air, letting me turn it into a slide across my knees instead of my back. In hindsight, I wasn’t sure sliding on my already aching knees was better than my back, but it let me recover faster at least. 

Mouse Protector had been thrown the opposite way in an attempt to separate us. 

I wasn’t sure why he chose to go after her first, but the mistake was in our favour. Hookwolf surged towards my mentor, spikes as thick as lampposts spearing out to meet her. She vanished, appearing next to me. 

We wasted no time in returning to our escape. Hookwolf’s bad decision let us make some actual distance. I used Aiai to expand the space behind us to give us a few extra moments of space. I couldn’t hold it too long, but even a second or two could make all the difference. 

We pushed out of the parking lot and over the short fence into a park. Recent rain made the dirt a little softer than usual, which made running in it a little harder. Hookwolf’s blades found less grip in the dirt than our boots did, slowing him down further. 

At this rate, we might just escape. 

Mouse Protector pointed to a nearby building as we ran out of the small park, telling me to get us up there. I nodded, aiming Aiai at the lip of the roof and at the ground a few feet in front of us. Space pinched, showing us the roof beyond as if it merged with the street itself. 

Our aching feet were pushed further as we sped up at the home stretch. 

Aiai faltered with a whine, the space snapped back into place in an instant. 

“No, no, no!” I yelled, checking over the wires that held Aiai together. 

Her battery wire ran under my pauldron down to the battery on my back. It had been placed there in an attempt to protect her weak parts from being cut. Except, it hadn’t mattered much against Lass’ sword. She’d cut the wire, severing Aiai’s connection to the battery, leaving her only the energy she had stored away. 

“Her wires cut!” I told Mouse. 

She nodded, grabbing my hand again to pull me down a side street.

Blades whirred behind us, their metal screeching as they tore through the road. Hookwolf was closing in. I glanced behind us to see him flow around the corner like a wolf-shaped wave. His form shifted after the turn, growing giant legs that cracked the ground beneath. 

Our tiny lead grew smaller and smaller, his speed much too fast for us even if we weren’t tired from a fight. 

An option weighed in my mind. One that I knew would hurt him and potentially more. That ‘potentially more’ held me back. I didn’t want murder on my conscience. But, would we even be able to escape without Aiai? Mouse Protector could, she’d be okay. 

Wasn’t this what Browbeat asked me? Would I sacrifice a villain to save lives? 

My arm was yanked painfully as Mouse Protector took a sudden left at the end of the street. Hookwolf continued to close the distance, inching closer and closer only slowed down by the turns we were making. 

We took another sharp turn down an alleyway and instantly we realised it had been a mistake. A brick wall stood in our way at the end of the short alley. I raised Aiai to try to open a hole, hoping that her battery had just enough to let us get through. She couldn’t even make a pinprick of a hole in the wall beyond. 

Hookwolf’s body flooded into the alleyway, pressing up against both walls before we had a chance to run out. Why hadn’t we left immediately? 

We continued to run, covering as much distance as we could—which wasn’t much. As we reached the wall, Mouse knelt down to offer me a boost. I hooked my foot into her hand, pushing off it to try to climb the wall. My arms were too short to reach the top. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Hookwolf chided us, his voice echoey and hollow from somewhere inside the wolf’s head. “Stay put, and I won’t skewer the mouse cunt.” 

I froze in place, turning my head to see his body covering almost the whole alley resting barely ten feet away from us. We had no choice.

Mouse seemed to come to the same conclusion, lowering me back to the ground. 

“Sorry, kid. Guess this is the end,” she whispered to me. 

No. It can’t be the end! I wasn’t going to be defeated by a stupid nazi who liked to pretend to be a big dog. 

I grit my teeth. “Let her go, and I won’t fight back.” 

She could teleport away before she was shredded to bits even if he didn’t let her go, but I needed to delay as much as possible. Hookwolf laughed a harsh laugh that made my blood run cold. 

“No can do. This isn’t a negotiation. Tell you what, beg me for her life and I might just spare her after I’m done tearing you apart.” 

If I died I could save her. While he was distracted by killing me she could get away. 

I didn’t want to die.

My Mom would miss me. Mel and Abi would miss me too. How could I do that to them? 

Hookwolf didn’t even flinch as I reached into the hidden pocket of my coat. Inside, my fingers found the mason jar that contained my acid and the starter that let it produce more when I fed it metal. 

“I don’t hear any begging,” he yelled, his voice echoing off the bricks.

I planned to use the acid to get rid of the Boat Graveyard, but this… this’ll help people too.

“Kid, what’re y–” Mouse Protector reached out to place a hand on my arm. 

Before she could finish her sentence, I threw the jar overarm as hard as I could right into his stupid wolf face. 

Hookwolf tried to pull his metal back into himself, but he was too slow. The glass jar shattered as it hit him, spilling the acid in a splodge over his metal form. The smell of burning metal filled the alleyway. As it ate, it made more of itself, and then that started to eat too. Within seconds the acid had whittled away a sizeable chunk of the metal nazi. He tried to produce more metal but the acid had already spread to other parts of himself. 

Spears of iron jutted out of him in every direction like a porcupine. We dodged as many as we could, but there was only so much space. 

Most of the spikes glanced off our armour. A couple didn’t. 

Mouse Protector cried out as she was stabbed in the shoulder and her thigh.

One spike broke through the chainmail on my arm, piercing clean through with the awful feeling of it scraping against my bone. Another broke through my greaves, smashing a hole clean through my right robotic leg. 

I stumbled but was held up by the metal rods like a shish kebab. 

Hookwolf’s screams filled the alley, his form shifting between wolf, blob, and human. The acid ran along the lengths of the spikes, threatening to eat through my armour too. 

“Break the spikes!” I called out to Mouse Protector. 

She drew her sword, smashing it down against them. They weren’t too thick, but they were solid metal. We hacked away with sword and spear cutting gashes into our spikes that slowly but surely broke them away.

Hookwolf thrashed against the walls, knocking out large chunks of brick as he bucked and screamed. 

I convinced myself it was the blood loss that was making me queasy, not the man dying at my hand. 

Mouse Protector freed herself, and with both arms free she could overhead swing her sword into the spikes holding me. She pruned the spikes, lopping them off with a mighty swing that freed me from the acid crawling towards us. 

My acid worked better on wider areas of metal. Longer areas—such as the thin spikes—make it take its sweet time, savouring the meal. 

But, all of the spikes around us were being consumed by the acid, leaving us still vulnerable to losing our armour and having the spikes holding our blood in no longer holding our blood in. 

Hookwolf continued to thrash around, blocking off the alley. We were fortunate he didn’t rush us in his blind panic.

Mouse Protector offered me a boost over the wall again. With her help—and the convenient spike handholds—I managed to pull myself up over the wall. I leapt down, stumbling as I landed from the slightly too-high drop. Even a short fall would have hurt my already aching knees, though. 

My mentor appeared next to me, offering a hand to help me up. 

We trudged away from the horrible sounds of Hookwolf being eaten alive.

I don’t know if he’ll survive… I’m not sure he deserves to. 

Does that make me a bad person?

The moment I was back in the motel I collapsed onto my bed, not even bothering to take off my armour or legs or even wrap up the now healing paste-covered holes in me. At least I took my helmet off before coming in. 

We’d removed the spikes with as much ease as two tired warriors could manage. The process had been painful but my paste had helped a lot. I had barely any left now, just the dregs at the bottom of the pot.

Mom refused to let me return to blissful sleep. She yelled something I didn’t quite pick up in my half-asleep state. She rolled me over onto my back. I blinked at her, confused why she looked so worried. 

I tried to tell her I was okay but it came out as mutters. 

“Take… there’s… hospital…” I picked up bits and pieces of what she was saying. 

I shook my head as she said hospital, forcing myself to be more alert and awake. My whole body wanted nothing more than sleep for a long time after the stressful few hours it just had. 

“I’m fine,” I said as I tried to push myself upright. My right arm blared with pain even through the numbing paste as I tried to move it. I found it sluggish and unresponsive, barely moving at all when I tried. 

She pressed me back down to a laying position. 

“You’re not fine. Tell me what happened, Meadow. Who did this to you?” 

I told her my night in detail, leaving nothing out, not even the maybe murder. 

As I told her the last few hours in detail she checked over my injuries. Whatever Hookwolf did to my arm had been made worse by climbing the wall. One look at my arm, after I removed my armour, was enough for her to instantly call up the PRT to use their medical services. 

Even as I insisted that I was fine, she helped me out of as much of my armour as she could. Most of it was clasped together, only the gambeson and the chainmail shirt beneath were hard to remove. Taking off anything that required you to lift your arms wasn’t easy when one arm refused to move too much. We at least managed to slide my coat off me without it hurting too much. 

“They’ll have to snip it away at the hospital, we don’t have any pliers here, not that I’d trust myself even if we did.” 

“I have some in my coat,” I rummaged around my pockets with my left arm to find them. 

I noticed the hole in the sleeve and the tons of blood caked around it. Had I really bled that much? No wonder I felt woozy. My chainmail was much the same, soaked almost entirely red around the new hole it had.

A gentle hand stopped my rummaging. 

“Meadow, no. We’re going to the hospital. The PRT will know to keep your identity and how to fix you up, okay?” 

I stared at her. There were tears welling up in her eyes, and her mouth was set in a thin line. Or maybe the tears were welling up in my eyes?

“Mom,” my voice was shaky, “do you hate me?” 

“No, Meadow. Why would I hate you?” she rubbed a hand across my cheek. 

“I… he’s dead.” 

She frowned, “Maybe. But I don’t hate you even if he is.” 

I sagged with relief, all the tension leaving my body. As if taking that as acceptance, tears flowed out of me in sobs. My blubbering words weren’t understandable even to me, but my Mom seemed to understand. She pulled me into a tender hug, careful of my arm, and just let me cry as we waited for the ambulance to arrive. 

Surgery sucked. Well, the buildup to it sucked. I didn’t remember the actual surgery. 

Waiting in anticipation for a stranger to cut you open isn’t easy even knowing they’re wicked smart and trained as doctors. Then they tell you to count down from ten while putting a horrifying plastic mask over your mouth and before you’ve even reached eight you wake up in a bed, surgery over. 

The idea that I was just missing time like that made me feel weird. In reality, it was no different than sleeping. You lay down to sleep, imagine cool sword fights, and then you’re awake the next day. Except, when you sleep you don’t have people cut you open with a knife… I hope. 

Waiting around in the PRT hospital sucked as well. They told me I needed a couple of days to recover under watch before they’d let me leave. After one day here I was already aching to get up and move. I needed to check in with the people at the shelter and needed to make sure Artificer was taking her pills. So much still needed doing yet I was stuck here in a hospital bed again. 

At least tomorrow I’d get to go unless something came up. 

I’d also managed to contact Abi after my surgery to let her know most of what had happened. She wasn’t the most reliable person for handling problems but she did promise to try to get someone else to check on Artificer. I trusted her… sort of. 

I didn’t tell her about throwing the acid…

For a week, I had to have my right arm in a sling that kept it held up against my stomach. I’d have to only make public appearances as Raccoon Knight so no one connected the dots between her broken arm and Meadow’s broken arm.

Lucky for me, I’m left-handed so I could still do most things just fine. Most things. You don’t realise quite how many things require two hands until you’re down an arm. Even something like writing, which obviously only requires one hand, also requires another hand to keep the notebook open or to adjust the paper. My typing skills were cruddy in the first place and worse still with only one hand. 

I couldn’t even pull the film off a yoghurt without a hand to stabilise it!

As I continued to struggle with my yoghurt lid, a dark-skinned man wearing a shirt and tie strode into the room. His thin face looked the same as when I had last seen it, as faces tended to do. He had short black hair with flecks of white peppering it. As he came to rest just by my hospital bed, he towered over me, forcing me to crane my neck up a little to look anywhere close to his face. 

Thomas Calvert had a stern face, the kind that made you feel like you were in trouble even when you had done nothing wrong.  

“Ah, Director Calvert, sir,” I greeted him, ducking my head to avoid his piercing eyes. 

“Please, you’re no longer my subordinate. Call me Thomas,” he spoke slowly, drawing out each word for just a millisecond too long.

“Oh, um, sure. Okay… Thomas.” 

He smiled at me and I eased a little. He wasn’t usually the type to smile so I hoped that meant I wasn’t in too much trouble.

“How is your recovery going?” 

“Um, good, Si– Thomas. The doctor says I have to keep the sling on for a week. Which is… fine, I guess. I’m more worried about the hole in my leg.” 

“Ah, yes, the legs given to you by Armsmaster and Dragon, correct?” 

“Yeah. How is Armsmaster, by the way? Can I ask that?” 

“Of course you can, you have the right to know. He is stable and we’ll have Panacea for him the moment she is all rested up. We’re under the impression that he can make a full—albeit life-changing—recovery even without her. He wouldn’t return to being a hero in that case, which is why we’re so eager to get her working again.” 

“How about Clockblocker?” 

“His case was much less severe and modern plastic surgery fixed him up lickety-split. He is in recovery for the time being but is expected to rejoin the Wards next week, assuming, that is, he is still willing. You are free to see him should he allow it. You still have the phone we issued you, correct?” 

I bobbed my head, “Yeah.” 

They’d allowed me to keep it to let me get in touch should I ever need to and to contact the PRT on a secure line. 

“Now—and forgive me for bringing it up so soon—I have news about the other night. Would you like for me to sugarcoat it?”

“No… that’s okay. Just tell me it,” I sighed. 

I had already accepted my fate. They were going to throw me away and lock away the key but at least I’d be alive. At least Mouse Protector would be alive. I could take comfort in knowing that. 

He nodded once, “As you wish. Hookwolf is dead.” 

I stared at my hand clutching the bedsheets, gritting my teeth to fight back the rising bile in my stomach. 

“In more unfortunate news, we failed to apprehend either of the two capes you mentioned in your phone call to us. We did, however, manage to capture five members of their organisation that remained there.” 

“I… that’s good. Are you going to arrest me now?” 

“Heavens, no! You’re free to leave the moment you’re out of this building.” 

“Oh… okay?” 

Thomas nodded before inhaling a sharp breath, “Now, on another note; I’d like to offer you a place back in the Wards. Your talents are wasted having to scrounge for scraps. More importantly, we can offer you protection from the blowback of this whole ordeal. We’ll be covering up your involvement, of course, but Fenrir’s Chosen won’t take this lying down. They’ll pry and scrape for whatever information they can. If they catch a whiff of what killed him, it won’t be long until they figure out it was you.” 

“I don’t… I don’t know. I left the Wards for a reason.” 

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me that reason so I can fix it?” 

“It’s nothing you can fix. Unless you can bring people back to life?” 

“Ah. I understand. I’m afraid resurrection is outside of my wheelhouse. In any case, the offer stands. Feel free to come in again should you change your mind. And while I am disappointed you won’t rejoin, I can’t leave a young girl without protection from a preventable mistake. I’ll send some of my agents your way to help keep an eye out for any of his men seeking revenge. Which, might have been a herculean task before, but now, our facial recognition can pick them up before they’re even close to you,” he grinned. “Lucky you.”

“Oh, well, thank you. You don’t need to do that, I have Elel and I can make other stuff…” 

“Please, it’ll ease my worries.” 

“Um, okay then?”

“Good girl.” 

I smiled at him, slightly confused why he was praising me like you would a dog. 

“Well, I’ll be off, enjoy your rest. Oh, and we have a civilian here to see you. She’ll be escorted through the building when I leave. Needn’t you worry, she’ll be blindfolded and everyone will be informed to avoid this room for the time being. An alarm will tell you when the officers are here so you can mask up,” he smiled, nodded once then left the room.

A civilian being here meant my Mom had finally returned with Mel. 

After a few minutes, a red light signalled her arrival. I didn’t bother to put my mask on. 

She wandered into the room arm-in-arm with Mom. A blindfold was wrapped around her messy black hair, hiding her view of the world. Once the door was shut she removed it. Her eyes locked with mine for barely a second before she ran over to my bedside. 

“Meadow!” Mel grasped me into a bone-squeezing hug that would have hurt if not for the painkillers. 

I hugged her back, enjoying the warmth of her body and the smell of cherries that she always had. We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, just comforting each other through closeness alone. 

When she broke the hug it felt like I had fallen out of my nice warm bed into a bucket of ice. Her eyes were wet with tears. 

“I was so worried! Your Mom said you were injured but she didn’t tell me why or how and Abi said you were injured but she couldn’t tell me either and your arms in a sling and why are we in the PRT building?” 

“I… um,” I looked over at my Mom. “Mom, could you get us some drinks, please?” 

She nodded once—understanding what I wanted—before leaving the room. 

“Meadow, what’s going on?” Mel weaved her fingers between mine, holding my hand in her own. 

“I… I was injured by a cape.” 

Her eyes went wide and her mouth hung open, “Again?”

“Again?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry, I just assumed because before you said you had a thing with capes. I thought you might have been hurt by one.” 

“No. I mean… yes, sort of. It’s not… I don’t know how to explain it.” 

Her hand squeezed mine. “Take your time.” 

I took a deep breath. 

“There’s… Well, what I mean is… You…” the words failed to form. I knew exactly what I wanted to tell her but I couldn’t make my tongue say the words like they were a foreign language to me. 

Mel waited patiently for me to say more, her hazel eyes staring towards me with a soft expression. Sunlight peeked through the blinds, catching her eyes in a way that made them sparkle. Seeing her pretty eyes filled me with confidence 

I can do this. 

“I’m… I… Fuck,” I let out a frustrated groan which didn’t help at all. “This is hard.” 

Turns out they didn’t give me that much confidence at all.

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do. I want to tell you. You deserve to know I just… It’s hard. How was your drive?” 

“Fine. Do you want to change the subject?”

I slumped against my pillow. “No… I don’t.” 

Mel rested her forehead against my shoulder, her fingers rubbed idly against the back of my hand. We stayed there for a little bit, just enjoying the comfort of each other. I almost forgot what I was doing and started to drift off to sleep. As I realised I had started to drift off, I bolted up causing Mel to jump a little in fright.

“Raccoon Knight!” I blurted out. 

“Who?” 

I turned to look at her, my mouth agape. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I don’t know who that is. Wait… is that the cape Abi is obsessed with?” 

I suddenly remembered that she had called me Animal Knight before. She always went out of her way to move away whenever Abi started talking about Raccoon Knight as well. She had no idea what I meant.

“Yeah… I… that’s me. I mean, I’m Raccoon Knight.” Stupid.

“Oh, okay. Cool,” Mel nodded. 

We sat in silence for a little bit. She had taken that better than I had expected. Abi still freaked out whenever I spoke to her, gushing about random things like she was star-struck. Apparently, the image of me eating a sandwich was her desktop background for whatever reason. Frankly, I despised that image. Unlike her, Mel was compl—

“Wait? What?!” she bellowed. 

I flinched at her shout. 

“Sorry!” she wrapped me in another hug, “That just took me a second,” Mel leant back, holding my shoulders in her hands. “Are you really?” 

“Yeah… sorry.” 

“Hey, hey, don’t be sorry. Wait, does Abi know?” 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

“God, she must have freaked out. I wish I coulda been there to see her face, that must have been hilarious.” 

I exhaled a laugh through my nose, “She came to find Raccoon Knight to exchange helping her for helping Abi to find her friend, Meadow. She figured me out from like five seconds of conversation. I tried to do this deep voice but it’s really hard to do that for very long.” 

Mel snorted, “Heh. Comedy,” her smile became a bit softer, “I’m not mad, for the record.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. While I am a little hurt, I also understand. I get why you didn’t tell me and I don’t blame you. Mostly I just wish you could have told me sooner so I could have comforted you more.” 

I shook my head, “You comforted me a ton. I wanted to tell you because… I killed someone.” 

“What?” she stepped back, making some distance from the murderer. 

“Let me explain, please,” my throat closed up causing my words to croak. 

She gave me a jerky nod. 

“I–he tried to kill me. He tried to kill me and Mouse Protector. I didn’t mean to kill him, I thought it would just drive him away and he wouldn’t… I didn’t mean to…” 

“Who?” I couldn’t figure out what her tone meant. 

“Hookwolf… They’re going to,” I took in a deep breath to steady myself, “They’re going to cover it up as best they can to try to stop his people from… fighting back.” 

Mel stepped back towards me. Her arms glided past pulling me into another hug. Her hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as I cried my eyes out into her shoulder. 

She accepted me, even as a murderer. This was more than I deserved.

At some point in our long, tear-filled hug, my Mom returned with our drinks. Mel broke off the hug, her face filled with too many emotions to follow. 

Her eyes gazed past me to my robotic legs that were resting at the edge of the room.

“Holy shit! When did you get robot legs?” 

Chapter Text

Detitrius bobbed in the flooded streets. The metallic smell of blood washed in with the acrid smell of the waste that plagued Brockton Bay. 

She hadn’t been the one to spill blood, but the scent alone made her wish she had. Holding back, having to hide, it was cowardly shit but she understood the necessity. Drawing attention to herself now threatened to send her back to juvie or worse. They never listened to her, not in a way that mattered. At least before all of this, she had her case worker wrapped around her finger. Now, she was under scrutiny for a completely heroic act, with no one in her court.

Her hopes of redemption lay in the palms of Brockton Bay’s resident healer. Panacea. 

She had never interacted with Amy Dallon in person before the whole shitshow that had put her city in such disarray. Putting her life in the hands of a stranger set her instincts on edge. Again, that necessity made her grit her teeth and push past it.

From what little she knew of the girl, she knew that Amy avoided combat. Preferring to sit on the sidelines while people died, only saving them when everything was cleared out. She would never tell her she was a coward to her face, of course, that would defeat the purpose of this visit.

Amy didn’t know how to avoid being found, leaving behind telltale signs of her existence in an easy-to-follow trail. Covering that obvious trail had been harder than following her. If anyone else found the healer before Sophia could, it would seal her fate and guarantee she would be sent to jail or always be on the run. So, she did the obvious and made sure no one else would find her. 

She leapt down from her perch on the roof of an apartment complex, her cloak billowing out behind her as she shifted to her shadow form. Her body and clothes turned to a dark mist that vanished against the night sky. Everything that told her she was still alive vanished. No heartbeat, no breath in her lungs. Only the pressure of the airflow through her incorporeal form. 

Rather than land straight down she activated the runt’s addition to her costume. A simple hand gesture and three of the squishy breathers on her back huffed out their air. In her shadow form, she was light enough for it to send her sailing straight down the street in seconds. 

She couldn’t fly, not in the traditional sense, but she managed to stay in the air for an entire minute once. As loathe as she was to admit it, the runt had made something good. It saved her from more injuries than she could count during Leviathan, letting her get to the downed heroes faster than she could have before. 

Shadow Stalker landed without noise as she reached the building. She snuck down the side of it, out of the sightlines of the windows. 

Without her visor letting her see the electricity in the walls, she had to phase through the doors to make sure she avoided any wires. Having to leave behind the visor sucked, but it beat someone tracking her down using it. The same applied to her phones, both Wards and civilian. They didn’t know about her actual civilian phone. The one they did know about, she kept on her to paint a picture of an ordinary girl going to school and texting her friends. Then she’d leave it behind if she ever needed to do a solo patrol to vent her frustrations with those that held her chains. Paranoid, maybe, but it made sure her business was her business. Either way, she had chosen to leave all three phones behind, just in case.

Sophia glided through the aisles of the ransacked store, avoiding the obvious tripwires and alarms. Panacea had prepared for intruders but not well enough. 

She found her sleeping in the store’s office space in a makeshift hammock. 

“Panacea. Wake up,” she barked. 

The mousy girl stirred, rolling over but not waking. 

“Wake up!” Sophia yelled. 

Amy bolted upright, blindly swinging out an arm that hit nothing, almost stumbling out of the hammock until she noticed who was there. 

“Oh… Shadow Stalker, right?” 

“I saved you and you’re not even sure about my name?” 

“You shot a crossbow at her, it’s not like we exchanged pleasantries. I haven’t healed you either.” 

“I’m not like those prissy bitches, I take care of myself.”

“Great. Come to take me back?” her voice was dry and sarcastic. 

She looked worse for wear. Her face was gaunt, her eyes had deep purple bags beneath them, and her brown fizzy hair was tousled from her sleep. Even her clothes had rips and tears in places with hasty stitching to patch them up. 

“Sort of. I need you to clear my name. Agree to that and I’ll guide you back.” 

“What if I say no?” 

“I can force you.” 

Amy stared at her, unimpressed by the threat. 

“Then I’ll tell them you forced me with a crossbow. People love the healer, they won’t take kindly to you threatening her.” 

Shadow Stalker sighed. Loathe as she was to admit it, she had to lead with the carrot here, not the stick.

“Fine,” she spoke through clenched teeth. “What can I do to convince you to come back?”

Amy flopped back into her hammock. “Nothing. I’m not going back.” 

“There has to be something. Quid pro quo? Y’know?” 

“No offence, but I don’t really care what happens to you.” 

Shadow Stalker clenched her fists, her gloves squeaking as she gripped her hands tight. “That’s fine. That’s why I’m offering a trade. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” 

“I want you to go away.” 

“Other than that,” she spoke slowly, making sure her voice was level and even to not give away the simmering rage that bubbled deep within her. She could be cordial for five minutes.

“Well, that’s all I want.” 

“I can talk to your family, explain what happened?” 

“I don’t want them to know what happened!”

“We can lie. Tell them some bullshit about her getting in your head?” 

“I’m not going to lie.” 

She bit her tongue, not telling her that she was already lying by omission to them and lying wasn’t worse than making them worry. They’d already posted bounties in return for bringing her back and she’d only been missing for a few days.

“There has to be something. Tell me.” 

“You’re not doing yourself any favours by forcing me to tell you.” 

“No one’s forcing.” She held up her hands, placating. Shadow Stalker decided to switch tracks, offering outright instead of asking, “Do you need supplies? This place is a dump. I can get you supplies.” 

“No, I—” she paused for a moment, licking her lips as she considered it. “Fine. Get me some supplies, pretty much anything. Then, I’ll consider it.” 

“Consider it? That’s not–” 

“Do you want my help or not?”

Shadow Stalker huffed out a breath. “Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow. Stay here.” 

Amy rolled over without another word. Shadow Stalker bit back the insult she wanted to say and then bit back the next five. Before she could think of another she swooped out of the building without a sound. 

They met again at noon in the same store. In the daylight Panacea’s defences were a little more impressive. There were traps she hadn’t noticed during the night, ones that would have tripped her up if not for her shadow form. 

She dumped the plastic crate full of basic supplies onto the floor, not even bothering to lower it gently. 

“Food, water, clothes, first aid stuff, cookware, water filters, hygiene things; you get the idea. Food should last you a week if you don’t gorge yourself. I can get you more later since I won’t need to get you the rest of this crap.” 

Amy grabbed the case, hefting it up onto a wooden desk. She pried it open, checking over the contents as if she didn’t believe Shadow Stalker on her word. 

“Thanks. Now go away.” 

“Really? You can’t even pretend like you’re mulling it over?” 

Amy palmed her chin, staring up at the ceiling while making a long ‘hmm’. 

“Fuck you,” Shadow Stalker spat. “What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to leave me alone.” 

“I can’t fucking do that. You need to clear my name, you owe me.” 

“I owe you? Do you think shooting her with a crossbow bolt fixed my fucking problems? You just made things worse!”

“You don’t let the Thinker talk. I made her shut up. She would have fucked you up even worse than she did if I let her keep talking. Is that what you wanted?” 

“Yes! No. Fuck you, you don’t know me. I’m not screwed up just because she spouted some lies at me. She was just saying shit because I fucked with Skitter.” 

“Then why’d you run?” 

Amy stomped towards her, jabbing a finger at her chest, “I ran because you shot her with a fucking crossbow!” 

“How is that your problem? If you stayed I wouldn’t be in this shit. Like you said, everyone loves the healer. They would have listened to what you said. If you told them Eidolon was harassing you they wouldn’t have even questioned it. You’d have teams sweeping through his entire life at your word alone! And you’re trying to tell me you ran because I shot the bitch who was obviously fucking getting to you?” 

“She wasn’t getting to me!” 

“You were going to lunge at her if I hadn’t stepped in and you know it.” 

For a moment they stared at each other in silence, both boiling with anger. Then Panacea took a deep breath and slumped against the wall. 

“I wanted to throttle her. I just wish I got to shoot her myself.” 

“It was pretty satisfying… Do you want me to kill her?”

“What? No. I want her dead, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not ordering a hit on someone.” 

“What do you want, then?” 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

“Call me whatever you want. I need you to clear my name. No one will believe me on my own. So, insult me, whatever, I don’t care. Just let me take you back.” 

“I want you to go away.” 

She bit back yet another insult. Holding her tongue wasn’t something new. Talking with Piggot made her bite back more insults than she had now by far. 

“Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow with some more stuff.” 

Amy groaned but didn’t protest. 

Shadow Stalker placed another box of supplies on the carpeted floor. This time it was mostly food and water with only a couple of additions not included in the last crate. 

Amy rummaged through it before holding up a red stick from the box, “What do I need flares for?” 

“They’re a signal so rescue services know where you are.” 

“More like so the Empire knows where I am,” she tossed them aside. 

“Empire’s dead with Kaiser. They’re called some Norse bullshit now. Something Chosen? I think. Hookwolf’s leading them. Most of the other nazis scattered to the wind.”

“Then I guess it’s a signal for the ‘Something Chosen’,” she rolled her eyes. 

“Use them. Don’t use them. I don’t really care. If you come back with me it won’t matter.”

“Still no.” 

Every conversation with her made the rising urge to punch her in the face all the harder to resist. Even deep breaths couldn’t dissipate the desire completely. 

“Look, I heard what Tattletale said and who the fuck cares? Your mom’s a bitch, so what? Get yourself emancipated or some shit. And who the fuck cares that some villain was your dad? Fuck him, you’re not him.” 

“Oh, yes, let me just emancipate myself from a lawyer who would one-hundred-percent fight it at every turn. And let me just forget that my dad is Marquis and that looking at me reminds Carol of him so she can hate me even more. Great idea.” 

“Shit. Your dad’s Marquis?” 

“I don’t know. Based on what she was saying, it’s the only one that makes sense.”

“What if she’s lying?”

“Why would she lie?” 

Shadow Stalker barked out a laugh. “Are you serious?” she gestured at the cramped office space she was living in, “Look at this place. Look at you! She got you good. Tattletale loves to fuck with people. Of course she’d lie if she knew it would fuck with you.”

Amy hugged herself, sliding further down the wall. 

“It makes too much sense to be a lie,” her voice was quiet, resigned. 

“All the best lies do. A professional liar is going to be believable or they wouldn’t be a pro.” 

“It has to be true. It would explain so much.” 

“Your mom can be a bitch for a million different reasons and all Tattletale has to do is point at something that seems plausible and you’ll latch onto it.”

“So what? This is all my fault?” 

She held up her hands, “Not what I said. No one would blame you for believing her. That’s her power, she picks at weaknesses and you didn’t need an excuse to hate your mom further… or yourself.”

“I’m just so fucking sick of it.” Amy rested her head against her arms, hiding her face from view. 

“Yeah… I can help you leave if you want.” 

She shook her head, still nestled in her arms. “I can’t leave Vicky behind.” 

“You can still see her and I doubt she’d protest.”

“You don’t know her.”

“Not really, no. But fuck knows you need a break and she most likely knows it.”

“Can you leave?” 

“I need–”

“No. Come back tomorrow. We can talk then. I just need some time alone.” 

Shadow Stalker sighed. “Alright. You better not run, I’ll find you.” 

Amy nodded into her arms. 

She wasn’t there the next day. 

The office lay deserted with no Amy in sight. None of her supplies remained, not even the wrappers. Her hammock had been torn down leaving only the nails in the walls to show it was ever there. 

Shadow Stalker screamed, kicking a hole clean through the wall. She shoved a filing cabinet over and then flipped the desk. None of the mindless destruction helped bleed away her anger. 

She had been so close, and now she’d be starting from scratch. Panacea leaving meant she had either ran to get away from her or had decided to go back on her own. Either option put her on the back foot again. 

Amy hadn’t been subtle in her escape. She could follow the trail she had made trying to leave the store. But then the path died down. There weren’t any scraps of cloth caught in chainlink fences, or wet footprints leading out of puddles or imprinted in the mud. Why did she tell the girl she’d find her? Maybe then there would be as obvious of a trail as the first time. 

She leapt from rooftop to rooftop, checking down each nook and cranny to try to find any sign of the girl. Nothing. Not even a peep. 

Instead, she pivoted, checking obvious hiding spots or places she might squirrel down. Nowhere contained the missing healer, just other desperate people down on their luck. There was one last place to check. Her house. 

Finding the address wasn’t hard. Slip into a random house, check their yellow pages for one Carol Dallon and then sneak her way through the city. Their neighbourhood remained standing in decent condition for Brockton Bay. Leviathan’s rampage had been only a week ago and there were already obvious repairs to the buildings around here. 

Shadow Stalker waited for nightfall. As the darkness of night covered her, she leapt into their back garden to creep up to the kitchen window. Her shadow form hid her in the dark of the night so long as she avoided the light spilling out of the bay windows. Amy Dallon sat drinking coffee at the kitchen table with none of her family around. Before she confronted the girl, she needed to know where the rest of the family where. 

She crept around the building, peeking into windows to find them. Before long she saw them gathered together in the living room. Victoria she recognised. They’d patrolled together once and she had met her as a civilian when Emma took her and Madison to a meet and greet. The older woman she could only guess was Carol Dallon. They looked alike, with the same shaped face and blonde hair. 

The conversation was lively, carrying slightly through the walls of the building. She couldn’t make it out and didn’t really care either way. So long as they were distracted. 

She slipped into the kitchen through the bay windows. Amy sat on a stool by an island counter, running her finger around the edge of a mug. 

Shadow Stalker got as close as she could, ready to clasp her hand over Amy’s mouth if she decided to do something stupid like scream.

“Why’d you leave me?” she asked as she became corporeal. 

Amy startled, bouncing in place on her stool then whipping her head around to look at her. 

“What’re you doing here?” she hissed in a hushed tone. 

“We had a deal and you ran.”

“I never made any deals. I don’t want anything to do with you, you’ve ruined everything.” 

“I’ve ruined everything?! I fucking saved you and this is the thanks I get?” 

“All you’ve done is made me have to explain things I don’t want to explain! My life was fine before you decided to escalate by shooting her!” 

“You said you wanted to hit her yourself. If I hadn’t shot her she would have fucked you up even more. There’s no way you’re seriously this delusional!” 

“Don’t fucking call me that! Get out of here or I’ll scream.” 

Shadow Stalker levelled her loaded crossbow at Amy’s chest. “Scream and you’re dead.” 

Amy levelled a bored gaze towards Shadow Stalker.

“Really? You’re already being hunted for shooting a villain. Imagine how much they’ll come down on you for shooting me. Do you really want to do that?”

“I want you to clear my name after I saved your ass.”

“You didn’t save me. Now leave.” 

“Are you serious right now?” Shadow Stalker hissed through her teeth, jabbing the crossbow a bit closer. 

“Hey, Mom?!” Amy yelled across the house. 

Shadow Stalker took a moment to consider if it was a bluff. She knew from Amy’s own mouth that Carol allegedly hated her. Would she even respond? 

Footsteps approached the door. Amy grinned with smug satisfaction at her victory. Before the approaching feet could reach the kitchen, she left through the window she came in. 

Everything always fell apart. That was the one constant in the universe. Entropy? Is that what they called it? Whether it was food left to rot or a city, a crumbling building or the relationships around them. Without maintenance, everything would eventually return to dust. 

She stared out at the broken city. A city that no longer saw her as a hero but one that labelled her a villain. Not officially, of course, that’d be bad PR. But online the rumours were already spreading; Shadow Stalker breaks the Endbringer Truce. They couldn’t be further from the truth. If that whiny little rat had just stuck up for her she wouldn’t still be skulking around amongst the filth. 

Living on her own wasn’t hard. The hard part was having to flee at any confrontation instead of proving to those who dared to attack her why they had royally fucked up. She wasn’t stupid, she knew they would be looking for crossbow injuries or the distinctive wounds weapons in her shadow state inflicted. 

She didn’t spend the week idle. Shadow Stalker made a profile on everyone she knew and how they would react to her telling them they were lied to. They needed to be able to trust her enough to at least listen, and then they needed to believe her and be willing to tell others. Someone in a position of power would be ideal, but those types of people were less likely to listen to reason and more likely to arrest her on sight to get the information their way. 

Armsmaster was indisposed but his lie detector would have proven useful in proving her innocence. Gallant would have been the same but he was gone. Assault might listen to her so long as Battery wasn’t around, but she couldn’t stand the idea of having to rely on Assault of all people. 

The pipsqueak—Vista—was out, she’d follow the letter of the law down to a tee, same with Miss Militia and Triumph. Clockblocker might be an option, she’d seen the way he looked at her and might be able to pull some Emma shit to use that in her favour. Kid Win would rather see her arrested than justice, even if it meant he was wrong. The runt would listen to her, just ask about Fufu or some shit and she’d bend over backwards to do whatever she asked. But last Shadow Stalker had heard, she wasn’t with the Wards anymore and probably couldn’t do much besides set up a meeting for her with the actual players. 

Which left Dauntless. She remembered he spoke to Emma’s dad after her case hearing. He might be friendly to her like had been at her hearing. He could also leverage his position as head of the Protectorate to clear her name no questions asked. It was probably her best option out of all the shitty options. 

All she needed was to set up a meeting with him. She knew what she had to do. 

The runt had built up an army. 

She’d set up near one of the shittier shelters. They’d cleared the area of debris and were working on about five different projects from what she could tell. A group were stripping down cars under the orders of a white woman wearing a strip of cloth for a mask. She felt like she could place her but wasn’t quite sure who. They were organising everything into plastic boxes for later use. 

Another group were cooking food next to a nearby group who were sewing up old clothes. Both were chatting with each other as they worked. A stone-constructed fireplace was burning, billowing out plumes of smoke that fed into a vent of some sort before being deposited out closer to the floor as water. That water flowed down channels that had been dug into a dirt patch with little sprouts growing in it. 

There were also people with long poles with spikes attached standing around the edges of the camp. Past them were PRT officers with foam sprayers that patrolled around the edges of the shelter and the camp. What had she done to deserve so many PRT here? 

Shadow Stalker spotted the runt amidst all the hustle and bustle. Her armour didn’t glisten like it had when she first joined the Wards. The wear and tear was obvious. She’d clearly washed it down a few times with the long streaks that made it look almost like it had been coated in oil. One of the shoulder pads had been wrapped in black duct tape a few times over. She also noted the lack of Fufu on her back. The only ones left were Dede and Eiei? No, Aiai. 

Her right arm was in a sling that had been decorated with sickly sweet stickers and coated in glitter. She noticed the slight limp in her steps. A recent fight? 

A woman in armour and a motorbike helmet appeared beside Raccoon Knight, slapping her on the shoulder. There were metal circles welded onto the helmet. Ears? Mouse Protector, she guessed. 

This place was too hot, she couldn’t approach her here. 

Shadow Stalker waited all day, following the runt as she did whatever she was doing with her army. How did she even manage to amass this many people? 

By nightfall most had stopped working, heading back inside the shelter to rest or sleep. A few stuck around to finish their work. The runt waved them goodbye before she walked away from the camp past the PRT officers and down an alleyway. Shadow Stalker followed across the rooftops, making sure to never lose sight of the runt as she casually walked through one of the most dangerous cities in America right now. 

After about twenty minutes of walking, Shadow Stalker felt confident no one would be around to see her. She dropped down in the alleyway in front of the runt’s path. 

Raccoon Knight drew Dede in a flash, the spearhead folding into itself before disappearing into the box that held the rest of the heads. It pushed out the nozzle head with the motion. The air cannon was the perfect counter to her, had that been intentional? 

Shadow Stalker raised her hands to show she meant no harm. 

“Hey, runt. I need your help.” 

Chapter Text

“I can’t help you. I’m sorry,” I told Shadow Stalker. She looked so desperate, I hated to tell her no. 

“Please. I just need you to set a meeting with Dauntless. That’s all.” 

As she stepped forward I stepped back, wary of an attack. 

“I have court soon. I can’t be seen talking to a criminal.” 

“I’m not a criminal!” she barked. 

“They’re saying you are and that means I can’t talk to you! It’s not like I don’t want to but I need this to go well,” I begged her to understand, to just leave me alone until after this whole thing was over. 

“Sorry,” she raised her hands slightly. “Didn’t mean to snap. I’m just tired. Listen. Court takes no time at all. You tell them how you arrested whoever you arrested and then they let you go. You’ll be in there for an hour max. I only need you for five minutes.” 

“I didn’t—you don’t know? Do you?” 

“Know what?”

“Hookwolf’s dead.” 

“Oh. So it’ll be two hours. Just tell them what you saw and they’ll move on to the next witness.” 

“I’m… it was me,” my voice was small, far away. 

“ You killed Hookwolf?!” 

My body barely responded to me asking it to nod.

“Huh. Respect, Fields. Didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“Respect? I killed someone! He’s dead and never coming back and it was my fault!” 

“He was a mass-murdering nazi. His death is an improvement to the world.”

“He was still a human being! I’m not the person who decides who lives and dies, that isn’t my job. I know he was horrible and hurt more people than I can imagine but I… it’s hard to explain. I wanted to save people, not kill them.” 

“Sometimes chemo works and the cancer goes away. Sometimes it doesn’t and you need to cut it away. You’ve saved people by taking out that psychopath.”

“I’ve hurt people by killing him too…” 

“Omelettes and eggs.” 

I glared at her even though she couldn’t see my eyes. “Miss Militia didn’t deserve to be attacked in her home because of what I did.” 

“Shit. Is she dead?” 

“No, just injured. Her house is gone, though.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

My brain took a moment to catch up to what she had said. In the short few months I’d known Shadow Stalker she’d never once apologised. 

“You’re sorry? Why?” It felt like a trap. I tried preparing for her next words but couldn’t figure out the trap in time. 

“Killing someone, taking a life, it isn’t easy… even if they are dirtbags. I know you wouldn’t have done it without good reason. Whatever pushed you to it must have been big.” 

“He would have killed us both if I hadn’t…” 

We stood in silence for a moment. The wind rustled past us, kicking up the ever-present salty breeze. I really needed to do something about all this water. 

“You’re my friend,” Shadow Stalker said, catching me off-guard again, “if you need me to do anything for you, just ask.” 

“I’m not trading favours to talk to Dauntless.” 

She held up her hands, “I figured as much. This isn’t about that. I want to be there for you.” 

“Why?”

“You’re my friend,” she repeated, shrugging one shoulder.

“We’re not friends. I barely know anything about you.”

“That hurts but okay. My point still stands. You’re my friend, even if I’m not yours.”

“You can do that?” 

“Sure. I want to help you, even if it means I have to risk my safety to do it. That makes you my friend.” 

“Oh…” 

I didn’t know friendships could be one-sided. Before Abi, Mel, and Taffy, I thought the Wards were my friends. Then I thought about it and realised I barely knew them and they barely knew me. So I realised they weren’t. But then they’d started to get to know me and me them. They ticked the boxes to be marked as friends after we go to know each other, that’s how friendship worked. 

Yet, Sophia considered me a friend and I didn’t consider her one. Maybe her list was different? 

“I want to know you more,” I said slowly, “but… I guess I can’t really do that if you’re in jail.”

She took in a breath as if about to speak. I spoke first. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to help you, yet. I need to know what happened first.”

Shadow Stalker folded her arms in a way that made her cloak open up at the front to show off her body.