Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My name is Taylor Hebert.

I'm just a teenager, but I think I've already learned the most important lesson for getting ahead in life. Of course, as a rule, teenagers are arrogant idiots who think they know everything. The difference is, I'm not an idiot. Just arrogant.

Here's the truth: Everyone is their own God of Lies.

And the best lie, the most important one, is about who you are.

Taylor stood in front of the Wards for the first time, her hands clasped behind her back, green horns adorning her head. She had gone without the mask. Wasn't even sure what to design—everything she'd tried had felt wrong, somehow. Like she shouldn't have to hide her face. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. She could feel their eyes on her.

Why wouldn't they stare at the newcomer? It was obvious, but she didn't like the attention. She wasn't good at those things. Introductions, group projects—all that crap brought her down a bitter path. She'd rather take a thousand steps back. Stay in the shadows.

"I'm Taylor Hebert. Codename: Loki," she announced, her voice steady, though she felt anything but calm. I'm only here because of Danny. Because of Dad. She hadn't been able to hide her powers, hard to control as they were, and he'd begged her—if she felt the need to use them, to at least do it responsibly. Taylor hadn't been able to refuse. She'd already put him through enough, even if she feared the Wards would just be high school all over again. "And yes, the name is exactly what you think it is."

Clockblocker raised a hand, though he didn't wait for permission to speak. "I don't read much, but yeah. The Norse god? Bit of an ego, there."

Then someone placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear: "Actually, no. But it's hard to find good names that aren't already taken."

Except the Taylor who did it wasn't the one standing in front of everyone—it was a perfect copy. One that dissolved into green smoke a moment later.

"Okay," Clockblocker whistled. "Cool. Also creepy."

Vista frowned, leaning forward in her chair. "Don't get me wrong, it's cool, but… are you just an illusionist? That doesn't seem super useful out there."

She spoke as if the Wards actually dealt with real problems, aside from emergencies. The Wards program existed mostly to train them in a safe environment. Taylor rolled her eyes. But besides that, I'm stronger than them. She was sure of that.

"If I told you all my tricks up front, where's the fun in that?" She held up a hand, and the light in the room seemed to warp, drawing shadows to her palm. A second later, the shadows solidified into a shimmering green dagger, which she spun casually before letting it dissolve.

"Not just illusions," Armsmaster said, his deep voice cutting through the room. That guy knew nothing about fun. And to think she'd once owned underwear with his face on it. He stood at the head of the table, his tone as measured as always. "Based on her demonstration during recruitment, Loki also has shapeshifting capabilities—limited to animals and non-living objects—energy projection, and minor teleportation."

Taylor smiled to herself. Right. Limited to animals and non-living things. Why would I reveal all my tricks?

"Minor teleportation?" Kid Win asked.

Taylor smirked. "Depends on the eye of the beholder, I guess." She snapped her fingers, vanishing in a burst of green energy. Before anyone could react, she reappeared, lounging in Clockblocker's chair, her feet propped up on the table. Clockblocker had, of course, abandoned the chair to stand up at some point. She wouldn't do something as shameless as sitting in a boy's lap she barely knew. Not that she was half as attractive as she'd need to be for that to work on any guy.

"Hey!" Clockblocker protested.

Taylor gave him an innocent look. "Sorry. Was this your seat?" She snapped her fingers again and reappeared back where she'd been standing, leaving Clockblocker muttering under his breath.

"Okay, I'm calling it now—she's going to be a pain in the ass," Shadow Stalker said from her spot by the wall, arms crossed. She was the only one who hadn't removed her mask. Well, the only one besides Armsmaster. Taylor couldn't help but notice.

"Better a pain than a bore."

Armsmaster nodded curtly. "Enough chitchat. You'll have your first patrol with Vista and Clockblocker tomorrow. Dismissed."

As the Wards began to file out, Clockblocker fell into step beside Taylor. "So, Loki, huh? What's your plan for your big debut?"

Taylor glanced at him, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. She didn't feel confident—she felt weak and scared—but that's exactly why the illusion mattered. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Clockblocker chuckled. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna regret asking."

—

Taylor leaned against the wall of the Wards' common area, idly spinning a conjured dagger between her fingers. The team had finished a relatively uneventful patrol, but something about Shadow Stalker's sharp-edged attitude had grated on her more than such morons usually did. The girl was always tense, always looking for an excuse to snap.

Maybe it had nothing to do with her. Maybe Shadow Stalker wasn't doing this to establish pecking order, knock the new girl down a peg, and there wasn't a more personal motive.

Maybe. Just maybe.

Taylor didn't mind pricking at people—she was a trickster, after all—but Shadow Stalker radiated something else. Something darker.

As the others joked and relaxed around the table, Shadow Stalker stalked off to the locker room, her body language practically daring someone to follow. Taylor didn't need much of an excuse. She snapped her fingers, vanishing in a puff of green energy, and reappeared silently in the hallway just outside.

The door clicked shut behind Shadow Stalker, and Taylor crept closer, her presence concealed by an illusion. She was completely invisible, though someone attentive might still hear her footsteps. She didn't like the idea of spying on her teammates on her first day, but something told her this wasn't just about satisfying curiosity.

Inside the locker room, she heard the faint rustle of fabric and Shadow Stalker's mask being removed.

A dark-skinned girl with sharp features and an even sharper scowl stared back at her—no, not at her. Sophia Hess stared into the locker room mirror, running a hand through her short, tightly curled hair. Taylor froze, her breath caught in her throat.

Sophia. Sophia Hess. The same Sophia who had pushed her into a locker, humiliated her in front of half the school, and turned her life into a daily nightmare.

The dagger Taylor had conjured earlier appeared in her hand, its emerald glow flickering faintly as her emotions churned. She could feel the familiar anger rising, the sting of humiliation and despair she'd buried beneath layers of defiance. For a moment, her grip on the dagger tightened, her thoughts spiraling.

But then she stopped herself.

"Not yet," she whispered under her breath. With a wave of her hand, the dagger vanished into smoke. This wasn't the time.

She'd sworn to herself she'd never be a victim again.

That she'd take what she wanted, what she deserved, instead of letting herself be trampled.

Nothing had changed. She'd died in that locker and been reborn as someone else. A woman who wouldn't back down from anyone. So she wouldn't spout nonsense about revenge not being worth it or how it made you as bad as your tormentor. Still, there were a thousand better ways to get even. Slitting Sophia's throat here would be easy, but it'd only earn her a trip to the nearest prison. Her reputation would shatter while Sophia was buried as a victim.

That was intolerable. Anything but that.

Instead, she snapped her fingers again, making herself visible with an unnecessary puff of smoke and flash of green light.

Sophia spun around, startled, her mask still in her hand. "What the hell?"

Taylor smiled, tilting her head. "Relax, Shadow Stalker. It's just me." Her eyes flicked to Sophia's mask, then back to her face. "Or should I say… Sophia?"

The way Sophia's face paled was almost satisfying. Almost.

"Get out," Sophia hissed.

She still thinks she can push me around. Wants to believe it, even though she paled the moment I opened my mouth instead of cowering helplessly. No wonder. After all, Taylor held the information needed to destroy her life. It was all fun and games until Sophia faced the slightest risk. So brave, such an alpha.

Taylor ignored her, taking a slow step forward. "You know, you've got an interesting habit of hiding who you really are. Not just the mask, either. I mean… a hero? That's rich."

Sophia stepped closer, her jaw tight. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Taylor's smile widened, though there was no humor in it. "Oh, I think I do. And you know what's funny? I never would've guessed you'd end up here, playing hero. You don't strike me as the type to 'protect and serve.' More like… 'intimidate and bully.' Sound familiar?"

Sophia's hands clenched into fists, but Taylor raised a glowing hand before she could say anything. "Relax. I'm not going to tell anyone. Not yet, anyway. But let me be clear." She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a dangerous whisper. "I don't forget, and I don't forgive. You don't get to play the high-and-mighty hero around me, not after what you did."

Sophia glared at her, but there was no witty retort, no defiant sneer. Just silence.

Taylor leaned back, her grin returning to something lighter, more teasing. "Well, this has been fun. We should do it again sometime. Maybe over coffee?" With a snap of her fingers, she vanished, leaving Sophia alone in the locker room.

Taylor appeared in her new room. She'd left a clone there earlier so no one would suspect anything. So this was the first time she'd actually gotten a good look at it. Didn't matter. It was just a room like any other.

She doubted it would ever feel like a home away from home, especially after what she'd learned today.

She had to admit Dad was right. She'd made the right choice joining the Wards.

Now that she knew Sophia was here—strutting around the world like a star athlete at school and pretending to be a hero outside—she wouldn't rest until both problems were fixed. Until the world made sense again.

"Game on," she murmured to herself.

Chapter Text

Taylor sat cross-legged on her bed in the Wards' quarters, the soft green glow of her illusions flickering around her fingers. Her face was calm, composed, but her mind raced with ideas. She wasn't going to lash out blindly—that wasn't her style. She was better than Sophia, better than all of them. No, if Sophia Hess was going to pay for what she'd done, it wouldn't be with a single blow. It would be with a thousand small cuts.

"Petty revenge isn't satisfying," Taylor muttered to herself, conjuring an image of Sophia in her Shadow Stalker costume. The illusion hovered in the air before her, a perfect, glowing replica. "But tearing down her life piece by piece? Now that's worth doing right."

The first step was obvious. The first step of any plan: gather information. Sophia's weaknesses, her relationships, her secrets—everything she used to hold herself together. Taylor snapped her fingers, and the illusion shifted, showing Sophia's face instead. "Let's see… Popular with the team? Doubt it. Too arrogant to make friends who don't kiss her boots. Bet she doesn't trust anyone enough to be close. But you're only as strong as the lies holding you up."

Taylor let out a slow breath, her expression sharpening like a dagger. She didn't just want to expose Sophia as a bully and a fraud. She wanted to isolate her, to make her unravel in front of everyone who thought they knew her.

The trick was patience.

The same patience those hyenas had shown in wearing her down and preparing her for the locker. Months. Those absolute animals, those black holes in human form, had waited months. Why couldn't she do the same?

She could do it better.

She was better.

—

Taylor started small. She walked into the Wards' common area with a casual air. No illusions, no use of her powers—for now. She'd spent the night at headquarters, though that wasn't a daily thing. It had been suggested by Miss Militia to help her adjust quickly. Sophia sat in her usual spot, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, glaring at nothing in particular.

"Morning, team," Taylor said brightly, earning a few grunts of acknowledgment from the others. She focused her attention on Sophia, tilting her head slightly. "Shadow Stalker, you look… tense. Something on your mind?"

It wasn't a school day. Otherwise, they'd all (well, besides Sophia) be at Arcadia right now, her included. Dad had made that clear—it was one of his conditions for letting her join the Wards. He wanted her transferred, to never spend another second at Winslow.

In another life, Taylor would've rejoiced.

Now, truthfully, she couldn't care less.

People were the same everywhere—they sought the same things and tore others down for the same reasons. Escaping Winslow meant nothing. Fewer drug addicts, more pretentious bitches in innocent schoolgirl skirts who probably did drugs in secret anyway. That was all.

Sophia's glare flicked to her, sharp as a knife. "I'm fine."

"Hmm," Taylor replied. She waved a hand subtly, conjuring a tiny, nearly invisible illusion just behind Sophia—a dark, distorted figure looming in the corner of the room. Just enough for Sophia to catch out of the corner of her eye.

Sophia, and no one else. She wasn't stupid. There was no chance of getting caught. If there had been, she wouldn't have risked it.

Sophia turned sharply, her eyes narrowing at the empty corner.

"What's up?" Clockblocker asked, noticing her movement.

"Nothing," Sophia snapped, shaking her head. "Just thought I saw… something."

What you deserve, Taylor thought. By the end of this, you'll be seeing me in your periphery for the rest of your miserable life, Sophia.

Killing you would be too easy. I won't let you die.

I'll just make you wish you could.

—

Over the next week, Taylor stayed close to a different teammate during each meeting, choosing her words wisely. It wasn't hard—they were all just teenagers, after all. Occasionally risking their lives didn't make them adults. If anything, it might've done the opposite.

Wear them down.

They didn't have proper defenses. For example, it wasn't hard to figure out what to focus on with Vista. In a desperate—and frankly adorable—effort to be taken seriously as a full member of the team and not just "little Missy," Vista saw herself as a soldier. She cared about the team more than anyone. She was proud of her scars, as Taylor had noticed in the shower.

"Don't you think she's a bit… distant? Like she doesn't really care about the rest of us?"

Vista frowned, then slowly nodded.

With Clockblocker, Taylor focused on Sophia's humor. "You ever notice how Shadow Stalker doesn't joke around with us? Almost like she thinks she's better than everyone else."

Clockblocker laughed. "She's definitely got a stick up her ass. But, yeah, now that you mention it…"

"She laughs and jokes sometimes. But it's only ever when she's mocking someone. Tell me I'm wrong. Maybe I'm not being charitable."

"No one likes her," Kid Win interjected. "We just have to tolerate her."

And so it went with every member of the team.

Planting seeds.

It wasn't even much work. Sophia had done most of the heavy lifting. Still, it was easy to ignore the elephant in the room for the sake of surviving day-to-day. Taylor was the fresh pair of eyes here.

Sometimes that's all it took to realize how messed up things really were.

—

Sophia spun toward the sound, her body tense. "Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice tight.

They were on a routine patrol.

Either ignoring the situation with Sophia or trying to force a resolution, the higher-ups had paired Taylor with her and thrown poor Vista into the mix. Who knew what Vista had done to deserve that. Though, to be fair, there hadn't been any issues. Until now, of course.

"Hear what?" Vista asked, frowning.

Taylor glanced toward the alley. "I don't see anything. You okay, Shadow Stalker?"

Sophia scowled, her hands clenched into fists. "I'm fine. Let's keep moving."

Of course, that wasn't the end of it.

Taylor kept the illusions coming—just enough to keep Sophia on edge, her head snapping toward shadows that weren't there and laughter only she could hear. By the time they returned to base, Sophia was visibly agitated…

Well, more than usual.

—

As Taylor prepared to head home, there was a sharp knock on her door. She opened it to find Sophia standing there. Her expression told Taylor nothing she didn't already know.

"What's your problem?" Sophia demanded, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Problem? I don't know what you're talking about."

Do you really need to ask? she thought. What a shameless bitch. As if you have amnesia.

"Don't play dumb," Sophia snapped. "You've been messing with me. I don't know how, but I know it's you. Get over your bullshit, Taylor. I don't know why you're complaining. You came out new and improved from everything I did. Now you have powers, some backbone, you're a superhero. What more do you want? I took a scared little bookworm and fixed you."

Taylor's smile was icy.

"No wonder people think you're… unstable."

Sophia's eyes narrowed, but Taylor could see the flicker of doubt behind her anger.

"Are you done blaming me for your own shortcomings? Because I was about to go home and get you out of my sight. Seeing your face too many hours a day makes me sick."

She closed the door in Sophia's face before the other girl could respond.

Leaning back against the door, Taylor allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

She had her in the palm of her hand. And Sophia was crumbling.

—

The Wards were suited up and waiting in the briefing room as Armsmaster went over mission details. A gang war had erupted between the ABB and the Merchants at the docks, threatening civilians and attracting villains looking for easy spoils.

A minor teenage supervillain group called the Undersiders had taken down Lung, indirectly aiding his arrest. Of course, this created a power vacuum, and chaos erupted. The ABB and Merchants fought to expand their territories while the Azn Bad Boys tore themselves apart. Apparently, one of the Undersiders had died in the fight. Sophia had seemed happy to hear the news, but that wasn't much of a clue. That black hole of a human being loved other people's misery.

It was supposed to be a straightforward operation: contain the violence, evacuate civilians, and provide backup for Protectorate capes if needed.

Taylor sat at the edge of the room, arms crossed, her green horns gleaming under fluorescent lights. She only half-listened to Armsmaster; her focus was elsewhere. The knight in shining armor wasn't the only one with grand plans—hers were far more important. And personal.

"Vista, you'll handle crowd control and containment," Armsmaster said, his voice clipped. "Shadow Stalker, you're on reconnaissance. Your mobility will let you get into tight spaces and identify civilians in danger."

Sophia nodded, her jaw tight. She hadn't spoken to Taylor since their confrontation, but Taylor had caught her stealing glances, paranoia simmering under the surface.

"Loki, Clockblocker, Aegis, and Kid Win will handle the front line," Armsmaster continued. "Engage any hostiles and buy time for evacuation. Questions?"

Yes. What exactly qualifies me for the front line with my kind of powers?

I deceive, I strike from behind, I…

Bully tactics. The irony wasn't lost on her.

—

The docks were chaos. Shouts, the crackle of powers, and the distant sound of explosions echoed through the air as the Wards spread out across the battlefield. Smoke and the stink of saltwater mixed in the air, and panicked civilians ran in all directions.

Taylor crouched behind a shipping container, her fingers glowing as she conjured an illusion. A dozen green-cloaked figures shimmered into existence around her, each one sprinting off in a different direction. ABB and Merchant thugs shouted in confusion, firing wildly at the apparitions.

"Nice one, Loki," Clockblocker said. He was just a few feet away, freezing a pair of charging gang members mid-step.

"The more the merrier," Taylor replied, her voice sing-song.

From her position, Taylor had a good view of the battlefield—and of Sophia. Shadow Stalker darted between buildings and cargo crates, moving with the fluidity of her shadow form. But she wasn't as focused as usual. Sophia's head kept snapping toward corners and rooftops.

Always gratifying to see the results of your efforts.

Taylor flicked her wrist, conjuring a shadowy figure that looked just enough like an ABB soldier to be plausible. The illusion stepped out from behind a stack of crates, raising a weapon in Sophia's direction.

"Contact, six o'clock!" Sophia shouted, spinning to fire her crossbow. The bolt passed through the illusion harmlessly, clattering against the concrete.

"Where?" Vista asked over comms.

"Back here! I—" Sophia cut herself off, realizing there was nothing there.

"What are you talking about, Shadow Stalker?" Taylor asked innocently over comms, keeping her voice steady.

Taylor could feel her frustration radiating even from a distance. No words needed. In fact, she preferred Sophia's silence for multiple reasons—not just because Sophia would be half-tolerable with her tongue cut out. The silence was proof she was crushing her. Shattering her.

A Brute from the Merchants—some thug calling himself Smog—appeared, swinging a length of chain that trailed acrid, stinging smoke. The Wards converged on his location, working as a team to pin him down. They weren't supposed to engage actual supervillains (a thug with a weapon was one thing, but this was different). But since the problem had come to them, they had no choice. The Protectorate's incompetents apparently had let him slip pass.

Speaking of incompetence…

"Vista, narrow the space!" Armsmaster ordered.

"On it!" Vista replied, twisting the terrain to trap Smog between two shipping containers.

"Clockblocker, lock him down!"

"Working on it!" Clockblocker dodged a swing of the chain, slapping his hand against Smog's shoulder. The Brute froze mid-swing, encased in Clockblocker's temporal field.

Taylor conjured another illusion, this one a squad of heavily armed PRT troopers, and sent them charging into the chaos. The sight was enough to send the remaining thugs scattering, some even dropping their weapons.

But while the rest of the team celebrated the victory, Taylor's attention was still on Sophia. She saw nothing worth celebrating here. The possibility of failure had never crossed her mind. Not in this.

"Shadow Stalker, what's your status?" Armsmaster asked over comms.

"Fine," Sophia replied, but her voice was clipped.

Taylor smiled to herself as she spun her green staff—the same color as her costume and a product of her power. It helped her channel the energy that brought her illusions to life, among other things.

Chapter Text

Back at the base, the Wards gathered in the common area, unwinding and relaxing. Even Armsmaster had grudgingly admitted that they'd performed well. They had reason to celebrate, even though the gang war had only just begun. Only two people in the room disagreed.

Taylor leaned back on the couch, her arms draped over the backrest. "So, Shadow Stalker," she said casually, "what was that back there? Calling out targets that didn't exist? You seemed a little… jumpy."

Sophia stiffened, shooting her a glare. "I wasn't jumpy. I saw something."

Clockblocker raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Because I didn't see anything either. Maybe you're just seeing ghosts?"

Sophia's glare deepened, but she didn't respond.

"Maybe you should take some time off," Taylor suggested, her tone light but her words barbed. "You know, clear your head. Wouldn't want you putting the team at risk."

Sophia shot to her feet, her fists clenched. "I don't need your advice," she spat. "You!"

Taylor raised an eyebrow with mock surprise.

"Me?" Taylor repeated, her tone light and innocent.

Sophia stalked toward her, fists clenched. "Don't play dumb. You've been screwing with me—using your powers to mess with my head. The illusions, the shadows, all of it. I know it's you! How are the rest of you so blind? This is literally her power!"

The tension in the room thickened, and the other Wards exchanged awkward glances.

"Sophia…" Vista started, hesitating. "What are you talking about?"

Taylor leaned back in her chair, twirling a dagger idly. "That's a serious accusation," she said, her tone calm but edged with amusement. "And completely baseless, I might add. I don't know what you think I've done, but I've been nothing but a team player."

Sophia's hands shook as she gestured wildly. "She's lying! She's been using her illusions to mess with me during patrols, making me see things that aren't there, setting me up to look like an idiot!"

Clockblocker leaned forward, frowning. "Uh, Shadow Stalker, are you sure? Because… that sounds kinda paranoid."

Sophia whipped her head toward him, her frustration boiling over. "I'm not paranoid! She's doing it on purpose!"

Taylor sighed, standing up and spreading her hands. "Look, I get it. My powers could be used that way. But do you honestly think I'd risk the team's trust for… what? A prank?" She shook her head, her expression one of mock hurt. "I thought we were supposed to work together, not tear each other down with wild accusations."

"That's rich, coming from you!" Sophia snapped, taking a step closer.

Vista stood up, stepping between them. "Okay, enough. Shadow Stalker, you're way out of line. Loki's been pulling her weight on missions. If you're having issues, maybe you should talk to Armsmaster instead of dragging all of us into it."

Sophia's glare flicked to Vista, then back to Taylor. "You're all blind. She's manipulating you. She's—"

"Manipulating us?" Clockblocker interrupted, his tone skeptical. "Sophia, you're the one flipping out and accusing people without proof. Honestly, it's kinda hard to take you seriously right now. You always make your shit our problem—like it's never your fault!"

Sophia's face twisted with more frustration than rage, even as Dennis mocked her openly. "She's doing it right now! Look at her!"

All eyes turned to Taylor, who shrugged, her expression serene. "I'm literally just standing here. But sure, if it makes you feel better, blame me for… whatever it is you think I've done."

"Enough," Armsmaster's voice cut through the tension as he entered the room, his expression stern. "What's going on here?"

Sophia turned to him, desperate. "Loki's been sabotaging me! She's using her illusions to make me look like I'm losing it!"

Armsmaster's eyes narrowed as he glanced between them. "Loki, is this true?"

Taylor shook her head, her expression calm. She had to suppress the urge to laugh. Did Sophia really think this would work? She just looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "No, sir. I think Shadow Stalker is under a lot of stress and might be misinterpreting things."

"Misinterpreting?" Sophia practically growled. "She's lying!"

Armsmaster frowned. "Do you have any evidence to back up your claims?"

Sophia opened her mouth, then closed it, her hands clenching into fists.

"She can do everything I've said. It's her power."

"Next time, either say 'no' or keep your mouth shut," Armsmaster said, his tone heavy. "Until you can provide proof, I suggest you focus on your duties and stop making baseless accusations against your teammates. This behavior is unacceptable."

Sophia just stared at him. "You're taking her side?"

You're only on your own side, Taylor thought. You don't even bother pretending otherwise here, unlike at school. Why act surprised? You brought this on yourself. I just gave you a nudge.

"I'm taking the side of the team," Armsmaster said firmly. "Now stand down, Shadow Stalker."

Sophia turned to the rest of the Wards, as if searching for support, but of course she found none. Vista looked uncomfortable, Kid Win avoided her gaze, and Clockblocker just shook his head.

Taylor, meanwhile, stood off to the side, her expression unreadable. But when Sophia's eyes met hers, she couldn't stop a spark of emotion from leaking through—triumph. Subtle, but unmistakable.

Humiliated and seething, Sophia stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The silence lingered for a moment before Clockblocker broke it. "Well, that was… awkward."

Taylor sat back down, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Stress can do strange things to people."

Vista nodded reluctantly. "Yeah… but she really needs to get it together."

Taylor didn't respond, content to let the conversation move on. Inside, though, she allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. Sophia had taken the bait, and now the team trusted her even less.

It was a good start—but nothing more than that. A beginning.

—

Sophia stormed down the darkened hallway of the Wards' base, her boots echoing off the walls. Her hands were clenched into fists, her entire body vibrating with frustration. Every time she thought she'd had enough of Loki, every time she convinced herself she'd let it go, that smirk of hers—calm, condescending—dragged her rage right back to the surface.

She hadn't been able to stand Taylor when she was a helpless little bitch, a victim, everything she hated in a person.
This was a thousand times worse. She couldn't help but think Taylor was better than her at her own game.
And…

She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

"You seem tense, Shadow Stalker."

Sophia froze. The voice was quiet but unmistakable, cutting through the silence like a knife. It didn't sound like Taylor's voice. Taylor's voice had always lacked confidence, barely rising above a whisper. To Sophia, this was unmistakably Loki's voice. Something more, something better. The weapon she herself had created.

She spun around, crossbow raised, but the hallway behind her was empty.

"Paranoid again?" the voice taunted.

Her teeth ground together as she scanned the shadows. "Show yourself!"

A figure stepped out from the dim light ahead. Taylor—no, Loki—sauntered forward, her arms crossed and her lips curled into a smirk.

"Surprised nobody believes you?" the illusion said, her voice low and mocking. "You asked for this, Sophia. All that hostility, all that 'lone wolf' crap… and now you're flailing, grasping for support from people you've always thought were beneath you."

Sophia's heart pounded as she aimed her crossbow, her finger hovering over the trigger. "Shut up."

If only she had lethal ammunition right now. Not that she should—she knew if she did, she'd pull the trigger and blow everything to hell, probably without even harming Loki. But she couldn't help wanting it, imagining a real bolt buried in Taylor's neck, blood gushing out.

Loki leaned casually against the wall, completely unconcerned. "What's wrong? The big bad Shadow Stalker, so used to standing alone, suddenly needs someone to have her back?"

"I said shut up!" Sophia fired a bolt, but it passed straight through the illusion, clattering to the floor behind it.

Loki laughed, the sound echoing eerily through the hall. For a moment, the laughter came from nowhere. Then she reappeared, wearing that stupid costume. "You're making this so easy. The more you lose your temper, the more they turn against you. And the best part? I barely even have to do anything."

Sophia's breathing was heavy, her vision narrowing as she stepped forward. "You think this is a game? You think I won't make you pay for this?"

Loki tilted her head, looking almost curious. Sophia wasn't even sure if this was real or just another illusion.

"Oh, I don't doubt you'll try. But what then? Even if you did manage to hurt me, do you think the team would back you? They already think you're unstable. You're just proving them right. Of course, you don't actually care about the team—but this would also end your probation."

Sophia growled, swinging her fist at the illusion, but it dissolved into wisps of green light before she could touch it. She should've suspected it was just another illusion from the start. Loki hadn't changed that much, after all. She was still a coward.

Behind her, the voice echoed again, this time from the opposite direction. "Face it, Sophia. You've already lost. All that anger, all that pride—it's not strength. It's weakness. And everyone's starting to see it."

Sophia spun around, her chest heaving, but the hallway was empty once again.

—

In the common area, Taylor sat with the rest of the Wards, a calm smile on her face as Clockblocker recounted an exaggerated story from their last mission. She laughed at all the right moments, completely unbothered. Even though she'd heard the same story four times already. Well, the guy was cute and knew how to tell a story. There were worse ways to pass the time.

"Loki, you okay?" Vista asked, noticing her distracted gaze.

Taylor turned to her with a serene expression. "Oh, I'm great. Just… thinking about how well the team's been working together, even though I'm new here."

Vista smiled. "Yeah, we've been pretty solid. Even with, you know…" She glanced toward the hallway where Sophia had disappeared.

Taylor gave a small nod, her smile never wavering. "It'll sort itself out. It always does."

Chapter Text

Sophia was determined to change tactics. She'd made a fool of herself once, and she wasn't going to let Loki win again. No more shouting matches, no more wild accusations. If she was going to deal with this, she needed to be smarter—more composed.

In the Wards' common area, she leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed, watching as Taylor joked with Clockblocker and Vista. The green horns of Loki's costume gleamed under the lights, catching her eye like an irritant she couldn't ignore.

Sophia schooled her expression into one of neutrality. If Taylor wanted to mess with her, she'd make it clear she couldn't be shaken.

"Loki," Sophia said, her tone measured as she walked over to the group. "Got a minute?"

Taylor looked up, tilting her head curiously. "Of course," she said smoothly. "What's up, Shadow Stalker?"

The rest of the Wards glanced between them, sensing the tension but unsure if it was about to escalate again.

Sophia motioned toward the hallway. "Let's talk. Privately."

Taylor stood, brushing imaginary dust off her costume. "Lead the way," she said, her calm confidence unwavering.

They walked a short distance down the hall, away from the others, until Sophia was certain they wouldn't be overheard. She turned to face Taylor, her posture controlled, her voice low but firm.

"I'm not falling for it anymore," Sophia began. "Whatever illusions you're pulling, whatever tricks you're playing—it stops now."

Taylor arched an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Oh? And what exactly do you think I'm doing?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Sophia said, keeping her tone even. "You're trying to make me look bad, trying to turn the team against me. But I'm not going to lose my cool again. You won't get to me."

Taylor smiled faintly, the kind of smile that was both infuriating and impossible to read. "Interesting theory," she said. "But if I were doing any of that, you'd think you'd have some proof by now."

Sophia's jaw tightened. "You're good at hiding it. I'll give you that. Even now, you're acting like we didn't have a conversation in the hallway the other day. You're very good—I'll vote to get you a fucking Oscar. But you can't keep this up forever. Eventually, people will see through you."

Taylor's smile grew just a fraction. "Maybe. Or maybe they'll just keep seeing what I want them to see. After all, you've fooled the world for years. They think you're a star athlete, a hero. You live a lie. You always have, and now I'm tearing you down with the truth. Congrats on figuring out how to navigate high school, but you don't have what it takes to survive in the real world."

Sophia narrowed her eyes, but Taylor continued before she could respond.

"Funny thing is," Taylor said, her voice soft and conversational, "this wouldn't have happened if you were anything but a bully."

Sophia stiffened, but she kept her expression neutral. "What's your point?"

"My point," Taylor said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "is that you bunch of animals taught me exactly what to do. How to find those little cracks in the armor and widen them. You might think you're in control, but you're not. Not anymore."

Sophia's fists clenched at her sides, but she forced herself to stay calm. "You're not as clever as you think you are."

Taylor tilted her head, her smile sharpening. "It doesn't take much to be smarter than you. And you're not as tough as you pretend to be. Lone wolf, alpha predator, whatever you want to call yourself—it doesn't matter. Because the moment you start grasping for the team's approval, for support, you lose. And everyone knows it. You're not friends with Emma or anyone else. You just use people who suit you to make your life easier and more fun—isn't that how you see the world? Useful people and obstacles. People who know how to take advantage and stay on top, and those destined to stay at the bottom. Of course, you're stupid, so you'd put it in simpler terms. Predators and prey?"

Sophia glared at her, but before she could respond, Taylor stepped back and raised her voice just enough to carry down the hall.

"Well, this has been a productive talk, Shadow Stalker," Taylor said, her tone bright and friendly. "I'm glad we could clear the air. It's important for teammates to communicate, don't you think?"

Sophia's eyes widened as she realized what Taylor was doing, but it was too late.

Clockblocker popped his head around the corner, his curiosity piqued. "Everything okay?"

Taylor turned to him with a smile. "Oh, absolutely. Shadow Stalker just wanted to make sure we're on the same page. She's really focused on teamwork lately."

Sophia's jaw clenched as she struggled to keep her composure.

"Really?" Clockblocker said, raising an eyebrow. "That's… new."

Taylor shrugged, her expression perfectly innocent. "People can surprise you." She turned back to Sophia, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Thanks for the talk, Shadow Stalker. I feel like we're really starting to understand each other."

Without waiting for a response, Taylor walked past Clockblocker, her calm, confident stride making it clear who'd come out on top.

Clockblocker lingered for a moment, glancing at Sophia. "Uh… good talk?" he said awkwardly before following Taylor back to the common area.

Sophia stood alone in the hallway, her nails digging into her palms. She'd thought she could outsmart Loki, but Taylor had turned the situation on its head, leaving her looking like the unreasonable one yet again.

Taylor's words echoed in her mind: You're not as tough as you pretend to be.

—

Taylor sat in her quarters, a grin spreading across her face as she considered the plan. The pieces were all in place—Sophia was volatile, distrustful, and too proud to back down when pushed. Taylor just needed to light the match and let it burn.

Drawing a deep breath, she activated her powers. The green glow of her illusionary magic shimmered around her as her form shifted. Her slender frame expanded, her costume melting away into the familiar black and gray of Shadow Stalker's attire.

One of the many applications of her powers she hadn't disclosed to the Protectorate. If she'd known Sophia was here, she'd have revealed even less.

Her reflection in the mirror grinned back at her, green horns gone and replaced with the menacing mask Sophia wore so proudly. She straightened up, rolling her shoulders and mimicking Sophia's cocky stance.

Perfect.

—

Later that night, the streets of Brockton Bay were quiet, save for the occasional hum of a car or the distant sound of sirens. Taylor—disguised as Shadow Stalker—perched on a rooftop near a convenience store.

Timing was everything. She'd studied Sophia's patrol patterns, the way she moved, even the way she talked when interacting with civilians. Tonight, Taylor was going to make sure everyone believed that Shadow Stalker had stepped out of line.

Luckily, Shadow Stalker was a ticking time bomb, and lately there were few things she could do that the Protectorate wouldn't have feared already.

A group of teenagers loitered outside the store, their laughter carrying through the chilly air. Taylor smirked. She leapt down from the rooftop, landing with the predatory grace Sophia was known for. She had to admit—Sophia's physicality was impressive.

"Break it up," she barked, her voice an uncanny imitation of Sophia's curt tone.

The teens froze at her sudden appearance. Her voice snapped them to attention. One of them, a boy with a skateboard, frowned. "We're not doing anything."

Taylor stepped closer, her body language radiating aggressive dominance—practically screaming, "Give me an excuse to fuck you up, make my day."

"You're loitering. Move along, or I'll make you move."

The boy hesitated, then muttered, "This is harassment."

"Harassment?" Taylor said, stepping into his space. She grabbed the skateboard from his hands and snapped it in half with a single motion, throwing the pieces at his feet. "You want to see harassment? Keep mouthing off. I'll shove what's left of this piece of crap up your ass. Nice and deep—maybe you'll end up liking it."

The group scattered, shouting protests as they ran.

Taylor snapped her fingers, swapping places with a clone she'd left on a nearby rooftop and returning to her original form. No green lights or smoke this time.

Subtlety, just in case.

—

Letting Sophia ruin herself, pretty much all on her own, was a delicious plan. Getting what she deserved, what she'd always had coming. Loki was smart, careful, and patient, but... suddenly she felt tempted to go a step further.

Oh well. It wasn't like it was dangerous. How could they possibly catch her?

Taylor knew that simply scaring off some teenagers wouldn't be enough. For the same reason that had led her to do it. She was sure that Sophia regularly crossed the line, though not enough to end her probation—at least not in public—and she only wanted her to be a greater annoyance to the PRT, not to push her into or make it seem as if she had crossed a new line.

However...

Taylor broke into a nearby storage unit she knew Sophia had used as a staging area during her more reckless solo patrols. Of course, she didn't do this in her own appearance.

The interior was sparse, but Taylor's eyes gleamed as she found what she was looking for: a stash of equipment Sophia had "appropriated" from various criminals.

Pulling out her phone, Taylor took a series of photos—her hand, inside Shadow Stalker's glove, holding the stolen gear. She left only a small part of the glove visible, in one corner. As if it were nothing more than a mistake.

Then, for the finishing touch, she tagged the wall with a quick spray of paint: a crude representation of the PRT logo crossed out with an X. It was juvenile, reckless, and utterly believable as something Sophia might do in a fit of rage.

No one listened to her, no one believed her, after all. She had plenty of reasons to be angry.

Taylor slipped back into the shadows.

Chapter Text

The Wards' base was buzzing with tension. Armsmaster stood at the head of the room, his expression colder than usual. Beside him, Miss Militia looked equally grim, arms crossed. Well, she'd never seen that woman smile in person, anyway. Probably reserved for photo ops and promotional crap.

Not that it mattered. It wasn't her business. Better someone professional and direct than a time-waster.

All the members of the Wards were present. Aegis, because he was the leader and this was his business, naturally, and even Browbeat, who would still be the rookie if it weren't for her arrival. But there was one notable exception: Gallant.

Where the hell was he?

She had focused on Vista, Clockblocker, Kid Win, and, of course, Shadow Stalker. She hadn't spoken much with the others, but at least she had seen them. And no one mentioned him to her. She had thought of plans to handle his power, reading emotions, and felt frustrated that she couldn't put them into practice and prove how good they were. Taylor made a mental note. She would try to bring up the subject as tactfully as possible, in case it was something serious. But not today.

"Shadow Stalker," Armsmaster said, his voice like steel. "We need to talk."

Sophia frowned, crossing her arms. "What's this about?"

"We've received troubling reports about your behavior during patrol last night," Miss Militia said, holding up a tablet displaying the photos Taylor had taken. "Breaking property, intimidating civilians, and evidence of unauthorized actions tied to this storage unit. Care to explain?"

Sophia's eyes widened as she stared at the images. "That's not me! I didn't do any of that!"

A very convincing argument—like a little girl saying, "Mommy, mommy, it wasn't me!" with her hand still in the cookie jar.

"Then who did?" Armsmaster asked, clearly skeptical.

Sophia looked around the room. Who was she even looking for? "This is bullshit!"

Clockblocker raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because, uh, it looks like you."

Sophia glared at him. "It wasn't me! I don't even use that storage unit anymore!"

Taylor, sitting quietly in the corner the entire time, spoke up. "Shadow Stalker, are you saying someone's impersonating you? That's… unsettling." Her tone was calm, concerned even. If anyone noticed the glint of satisfaction in her eyes, no one mentioned it.

Sophia rounded on her. "Don't even start, Loki. I know you're behind this!"

Taylor blinked, feigning shock. "Yes, that's your answer for everything lately. How could I possibly pull something like that off? I don't have the skill—or the motive. Or do I?"

Sophia fell silent.

Of course she kept her fucking mouth shut. What could she say? "Of course you have a motive—I caused your Trigger Event!" That would destroy her career instantly, ruin her entire life. Sophia couldn't even defend herself properly, terrified of the trump card Taylor held—one she'd surely play if cornered. A girl as simple as Sophia couldn't pull that off, but that's what Sophia was thinking, naturally.

Sophia looked around the room, her desperation growing as the others exchanged uneasy glances. She couldn't expect support from a single Ward. Not after last time. She had no one to turn to. Helpless, isolated…

Just like Taylor had been.

"Sophia." Aegis stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to appear friendly. Trying to carry out his role as leader. It was obvious that Sophia didn't appreciate the attempt. "Enough, okay?"

"I see you don't believe me either. But you never have, have you, Carlos? You're all talk. Nothing more."

"Don't push it, alright? I'm the leader here. I'm on everyone's side, that includes you, even though it often seems like that bothers you. All I'm saying is that you don't have to make this harder than it is. Just admit it. Everyone has bad days."

Sophia didn't say anything.

But, to Taylor's surprise, she looked away.

Miss Militia's expression softened, but her tone remained firm. "Shadow Stalker, until we can investigate this further, you're being suspended from active duty. Hand over your gear."

Sophia's fists clenched, but she had no choice. She ripped off her mask and slammed it onto the table, her glare burning into Taylor.

Taylor met her gaze with a small, satisfied smile. "I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding."

As Sophia stormed out of the room, Taylor leaned back in her chair, content. The Trio had taught her how to tear someone down piece by piece, and now she was using those lessons to perfection. Sophia had been weak. Easy to manipulate, easy to crush. She'd let them destroy not just her life, but her pride, turning her into a shadow of herself. Now their roles were reversed. The star athlete of Winslow that all the boys wanted to fuck was nothing in the middle of the Wards.

That's why she was likely the only Ward not attending Arcadia. Winslow was the perfect environment for her.

Surrounded by the same human garbage, she could shine simply for having longer legs than most. Surrounded by rich, preppy kids would be another story. She'd have to watch her words, lower her head, and play the game instead of staying above it. Taylor knew that was what Sophia truly couldn't stand. Being prey instead of the predator.

She suspected there were prey like Taylor had been—to scorn and mock—and useful prey like Emma, whom she tolerated because they made life easier.

Sophia could probably easily become the useful prey of some rich girl and coast through life consequence-free.

But being downgraded was intolerable. To her, being prey was the same as being dead.

That's why this was the best revenge. She'd reduced Sophia to prey, with no way to defend herself, and no one suspected a thing.

Forcing her to live with that was far worse than killing her outright.

Death was the end of everything—joy and suffering alike. It couldn't serve as proper punishment.

Taylor…

No, Loki now had a glorious purpose.

—

Taylor and Vista sat side by side on one of the couches in the Wards' lounge, the faint hum of the television in the background. Most of the team was elsewhere—Clockblocker and Kid Win were tinkering with some gear, Aegis had gone back home, and Shadow Stalker was on a long patrol. To cool off. And to hide from her, no doubt. Vista looked relaxed, though there was still a bit of tension in her shoulders that Taylor easily noticed.

It was the perfect time to do what she'd been planning.

"Thanks for sitting with me, Missy," Taylor said with a soft smile. Even the way she acted lately was an illusion—subtle, without distracting flashes or smoke. There was very little genuine trust left in her, carefully faked brick by brick. The Trio had seen to that. The persona she presented now (gentle, hesitant) was far closer to Taylor than Loki.

Though there were parts of Loki in there too. It was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

Vista waved a hand. "Don't mention it. It's nice to talk to another girl sometimes. You've been settling in pretty well, huh?"

Taylor nodded. "Yeah, it's been… nice. Honestly, better than I expected. I thought it'd be high school again, but smaller and more fucked-up, pardon my French. I never thought I'd feel like I belonged anywhere again. Everyone's been welcoming." She paused, letting a slight hesitance creep into her tone. "Well, mostly everyone."

Missy sighed. "Sophia."

"Yeah," Taylor said, looking down at her hands. "I mean, I get it. She's tough, and she doesn't trust easily. But…" She trailed off, glancing at Missy as if debating whether to continue.

Vista tilted her head. "But what?"

Taylor hesitated, then let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. "It's silly. I don't want to make it a thing."

"Taylor," Missy said gently, "you can talk to me. I know she can be… intense."

Taylor sighed, as if she were reluctantly opening up. "It's just… Sophia reminds me of someone from my past. Someone who wasn't exactly kind to me." She gave a nervous chuckle. "She probably wouldn't believe it, but she was part of the reason I triggered."

Vista blinked, her brows furrowing in surprise. "Wait, really? Sophia?"

Taylor's eyes widened, as if realizing she'd said too much. She quickly shook her head. "No, no. I didn't mean— It's not important."

"Taylor," Missy said, her tone serious now. "If she was involved in your Trigger, that is important."

Taylor bit her lip, looking torn. "I… I don't want to make trouble. I just… When I see her, it's hard not to think about everything that happened. You know?" She looked at Vista, her eyes slightly watery, as if she were trying to keep her emotions in check.

Missy placed a hand on her shoulder. "I get it. That kind of thing doesn't just go away. But if she really was part of what happened, you shouldn't have to keep that to yourself."

Taylor shook her head firmly. "No, please. Don't tell anyone. I don't want it to look like I'm trying to sabotage her or something. I just… I thought you'd understand. I haven't really had anyone to talk to about this stuff. It's… nice, having another girl around. You know, I'm not… attractive."

"You're not ugly either. Don't be like that. Most people are just… normal. If you wore makeup… Though I can't help with that."

"Thanks, but that's not the point. I'm not attractive. I'm not very feminine either. So I'm not used to having female friends. Friends in general. You know?"

Missy gave her a small smile. "I do understand. And you can talk to me anytime. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

Taylor smiled back, her expression softening into something almost shy. "Thanks, Missy. That means a lot."

Vista squeezed her shoulder, and they sat in companionable silence for a moment. Taylor leaned back, letting herself relax.

Vista wouldn't say anything. Taylor didn't want her to—that would end the game too soon. And now it'd be impossible for Sophia to exploit the youngest, most vulnerable member of the group, turning her against Taylor. If Sophia knew how to play her cards, if she were smart enough to realize she had cards, she could've turned Vista into her most loyal follower. Sophia was a nasty bitch, a rough woman, but a soldier. A 'badass'. Exactly what little Missy wanted to be in many ways. If Sophia weren't a fucking animal, if she softened, if she gave Missy what she wanted occasionally, Taylor could see the girl justifying her and learning to look the other way regarding Shadow Stalker's many flaws.

That's why Taylor had to put a stop to it.

Now that Vista knew Sophia had caused her Trigger Event, there was no way she'd ever see her as a friend. If there was one thing all parahumans shared, it was that pain. Taking that information lightly would be like spitting on her own suffering. Vista was still young, not yet jaded or cynical enough to do that.

Besides, she was a good kid. Not everything was part of the plan.

Taylor wanted to be Vista's friend. She wanted Vista to like her, accept her.

Vista wouldn't take what she gave and use it to break her heart, like Emma had.

—

"Dragon, are you awake?"

The second monitor came to life. Dragon's face appeared on the screen. Well, he had never seen her true face. She had probably suffered mental or physical injuries in the fall of Newfoundland. Armsmaster didn't care about that kind of superficial thing. His friendship with Dragon wouldn't change no matter what state she was in.

However, he wasn't good at talking.

It was a miracle he hadn't ruined his relationship with Dragon already, for some other reason. So he had decided to avoid such a complicated topic. She would have her reasons. Eventually, she would get over it. He supposed.

"Yes, don't worry. You know I don't sleep much. Is something wrong, Colin?"

"Yes. I need you to review the blueprints for my lie detector." He hated to admit it, but he had no choice. Dragon was one of the few Tinkers he trusted completely. One of the few people, to be honest. His pride was wounded having to admit that she could improve his work, but if it weren't for her, he wouldn't have admitted it in the first place. Unless it was strictly necessary, of course. He was a professional. He could put personal feelings aside for the good of the mission. "I thought I'd done a good job, but I'm getting...confusing readings. I'd really appreciate your help."

The Dragon on the screen nodded. He suddenly wished intensely that he could see her in person. It was a stupid wish, though. He wasn't a bad friend to Dragon from a distance. But if she had to live with him, she would soon get tired of him.

Most people did. He wasn't blind to the pattern, to the fact that he was the common denominator. The only problem was that he didn't know what to do about it.

"No problem, but what made you doubt it's working properly?"

Armsmaster sighed.

"Problems with the Wards."

"Shadow Stalker again?"

"Yes, but not in the way you think, for a change. Well. Not entirely."

Armsmaster explained the accident as briefly as possible.

"According to the detector, Shadow Stalker was telling the truth when she declared herself innocent. I'm not sure if I buy it, but that's not the point. Supposedly Taylor wasn't lying either, neither now nor when she demonstrated her powers, so what am I supposed to believe?"

"Either it's failing because Shadow Stalker is guilty or because Taylor is. I understand. Yes, it's a difficult situation. Have you considered that it might be working perfectly? That they're both telling the truth?"

"Of course. But I'd rather not. That would complicate things a lot."

—

The clatter of dishes and silverware. The distant chirping of birds and what sounded like an enthusiastic cat on the prowl. Taylor and her father were sharing a dinner that seemed ordinary, though the weight of everything that had changed could fill an abyss.

As she ate, Taylor studied her father, wondering how much he suspected.

Since Mom's death, he'd always been confused and lost. Maybe he suspected nothing. Of course, she didn't speak about her plans. It was impossible for him to suspect something like this. She meant the way she'd changed since that day.

When they'd come home early and found her on the brink of hysteria, using her powers without truly understanding what was happening to her.

In the end, she decided it was possible. He could be perceptive when it came to his daughter.

"So," Danny said, finally addressing the elephant in the room. "How are things with the Wards?"

Taylor shrugged.

"They're fine. Everyone's nicer than I expected, willing to do whatever it takes to help me fit in. I've made friends with Vista. She's a sweet girl. Well, I get along with almost everyone, but you know… It's nice that it's not just boys."

"Yeah, well. The other girl, Shadow Stalker, sounds like a pain in the ass."

Danny tensed immediately, as expected.

"What's she done to you?"

"Nothing, nothing. She's just an unpleasant bitch. Aggressive. Thinks she's better than everyone else, you know. Reminds me of someone from school. Well, from Winslow." That piece of trash wasn't her school anymore. Small mercies.

"Should I talk to the Protectorate, Taylor? If she's bothering you—"

"Dad. If that were the case, I'd tell you. Trust me. It's not me specifically. No one likes Sophia."

"That's good. Anyway, you know what I mean."

"Of course. I understand perfectly. Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you what happened before. I was wrong. For a lot of reasons. But things aren't the same now, Dad. I have powers now. You think I'm going to bow my head to anyone? Besides, if Sophia becomes a real problem, I won't even have to do anything. She's on probation. You know? One misstep and she's out."

Dad nodded slowly.

"Okay. I trust you, Taylor."

That's the root of all your problems, Dad, Taylor thought. You trust the wrong people too much. That trust, that honesty—it just marks you as a target. The world devours people like you and spits out their bones.

Luckily, you have nothing to fear from me. I'll only lie for your own good.

They moved on to safer topics after that. Taylor was relieved Dad had dropped the subject. Truthfully, she hadn't even lied—Sophia wasn't a real problem yet. But she didn't want to keep talking about it. She preferred lying by omission rather than outright.

It pained her, even though it was for his own good—even though it would only make him worry unnecessarily or maybe blow up, complicating things. Complicating a simple, effective plan that was nearly complete.

Soon, Sophia would be no one's problem except her cellmates in some prison or mental institution. Either way. In prison, if you weren't crazy before going in, you'd be crazy by the time you got out.

After dinner, Taylor offered to wash the dishes. The least she could do since she didn't know how to cook. Still, Danny insisted on doing it himself. Sooner or later, he always gave in. Usually sooner.

Soon, she thought, watching Danny shuffle through paperwork at the table. Sophia's already cracked. A little more pressure…

Her fingers tightened around the sponge, green light flickering faintly in her palm before dissolving.

And she'll shatter.

I don't even have to worry about cornering her so hard she Triggers. Haha.

—

"Sophia, how are you…?"

Sophia ignored her mother, heading straight upstairs and slamming her bedroom door. Just to leave no room for doubt.

"Always the same with this girl."

Don't pretend you don't prefer avoiding me, Sophia thought. Don't pretend you're not relieved.

Chapter Text

Taylor's eyes snapped open, tearing herself free from a nightmare that left phantom bite marks. If someone asked, she couldn't say what she'd dreamed, but the sensation lingered like a weight on her chest—as if a damn grand piano were crushing her. She took a deep breath, trying to regain control of her breathing and, in the process, herself.

In truth, it didn't matter what she'd dreamed. The point was it wasn't real—just an illusion. Now she had the power, the control.

When she got tired of toying with Sophia, she could ruin her life, give her what she deserved. Sophia could scurry away like a rat, could try to find an exit, but in the end, she'd discover all her paths had already been mapped by Loki.

A rat in a maze, nothing more, from the very beginning.

Just as Taylor had been when she was powerless, when she was just a foolish girl, suffocated and crushed by the illusion instead of having the intelligence and self-awareness to master it.

Taylor Hebert was free, reborn, almost. That wasn't going to change.

She stumbled out of bed and drifted like a ghost to the bathroom.

She looked in the mirror and didn't like what she saw.

Not that this was new, of course. There wasn't much about herself to like—except maybe her hair—and now it was worse. Dark, sunken eyes, pale skin. She looked like she hadn't slept a wink all goddamn night, though nothing could be further from the truth.

She didn't want to show up to her new school like this. Didn't want the Wards to see her this way. Control was everything, after all. Image was paramount in a performance, an illusion.

Taylor splashed her face with cold water. Refreshing, or so it was supposed to be.

She closed her eyes slowly, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat, visualizing the future. The destiny she wanted to carve with her own hands, the end of all paths.

Then she opened her eyes again and smiled at the mirror.

A practiced smile, like every part of her new act. A textbook smile, so to speak. A photo-ready smile, whether for school or her debut as the newest Ward. A smile that didn't reach her eyes—the only kind Colin seemed capable of.

The thought drew a more genuine smile from her, briefly.

Next, she flashed a wicked grin at the mirror. The smug triumph of victory, when all the pieces fell into place. Ultimate satisfaction, almost orgasmic. Then a timid smile—a powerless girl who just wanted to fade into the background, avoid trouble. Not stand out, for better or worse, because that was the worst thing of all.

Taylor practiced more smiles, each faker than the last. Finally, she scowled unintentionally, turned away, and left the bathroom and her room behind.

Her reflection lingered in the mirror long after she'd gone, brow furrowed.

—

Today was a free day. Tomorrow would be her first day at the new school. Today, she had no responsibilities, not even with the Wards.

So she did the only thing she could call a hobby these days, the only thing she could focus on lately: Taylor went for a run. She hadn't been doing it long, but consistency was key. Skipping one day might not seem like a big deal, but she knew herself well enough to admit she'd quit entirely if she started slacking.

And that couldn't happen.

She had plans, bigger responsibilities. She had to be diligent, take care of herself and her body. She was stronger now without training—she could feel it. Stronger, faster, bigger, more alive, more real, more everything. But that didn't mean she could lounge on the couch scratching her belly.

She had to prove she deserved this… well, second chance. Because that's what this was, right?

It was like she'd died in there, in the dark. It had been brief, disgusting, but not painful, and she hadn't had time to truly panic. The worst part had been knowing the malice required to plan something so twisted and repulsive for months had been aimed at her.

The feeling of being cornered prey. That the real world was even worse than she'd believed, nothing like what her mother had optimistically hoped for.

Still, something inside her had broken.

She wasn't the same. She never would be. Taylor picked up the pace. The exact distance didn't matter.

She wanted to run until she was sick of it, until her legs and lungs burned, until she couldn't take another second. Even if she ended up too exhausted to get home, she had her powers. She'd left a clone of herself under the bed.

Not the most original hiding spot, but it worked. Danny wasn't home anyway. Thanks to the clone, all she had to do was focus, snap her fingers, and she'd be home in a second.

She could run until she collapsed if she wanted, and that's exactly what she'd intended. But then—

"There goes the pillow-biter. Hehe."

A sudden, violent change of plans. Taylor stopped dead. In the park were four kids, all too young to even know what "pillow-biter" meant.

One of the four was on the ground, surrounded. You didn't need to be a genius to figure out what was happening.

"Watch your dick," another said. "Don't let him gobble it up."

The three laughed like hyenas. Taylor highly doubted the victim was actually gay—not least because at that age, he probably had no fucking clue what he even was.

They were hurling insults with the same sophistication as kids their age telling fart jokes or shouting words like "fuck" and "shit." Nothing more complicated than that. Kid stuff, some would say, but Taylor didn't tolerate that shit.

Every bully deserved their own medicine, multiplied by a thousand. Taylor stopped nearby, catching the boys' attention.

To the brats, she probably looked like an older teen.

"What're you staring at? We're just playing."

"Fuck off," Taylor said, and they scattered.

She held out a hand to the boy and helped him up. His mother, she assumed, hadn't done him any favors with his outfit. He was small but looked even younger dressed like that. Fresh out of kindergarten, ha.

"What's your name?"

"Ethan. Thanks for… for… for…"

"Don't mention it," Taylor cut him off before he could keep stammering. She hadn't really done anything, so she didn't feel she deserved thanks. She'd just shown up, and the bullies, as usual, had bolted at the first sign of trouble. "You're not the only one they mess with like this, you know."

"You too? But you seem so… confident."

"Well, more accurately, they used to." Taylor gripped his shoulder. "Look, I'll buy you a Coke or something, and I'll tell you what to do, okay? To make them stop. Because this isn't the first time, right?"

"No, it's not," he murmured, his voice soft, barely audible.

Honestly, the answer didn't matter much. Even if it were the first time, there'd always be a second, third, fourth. It never stopped until the bully got bored.

She bought them both Cokes from the nearest vending machine and sat with Ethan on a park bench. Taylor took a long swig from her can, sighed like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted, and looked at the boy.

"Listen close, okay? This'll serve you for life. Not just school, or high school—maybe even college. Depends on you, whatever. Listen. Bullies are wild animals, nothing more. They do what they do out of instinct. Crying or begging won't help, got it? If you tell teachers, they'll say something stupid like 'shake hands and make up.' As if that'll fix it. It'll just make the bullies hit you twice as hard for snitching. And your parents—even if they're on your side—can't just transfer you to a better school or move cities. It's not that easy."

Ethan hung his head.

"I know I'm screwed. Just tell me what to do."

"You have to hit them where it hurts, okay? Not kill them—don't get me wrong." The kid was maybe twelve, tops, but she wouldn't be surprised if he'd thought about it. Who hadn't? It was the first escape anyone imagined. "You'd be doing the world a favor, trust me. But it's not worth ruining your life over. Worse, making them look like victims."

Ethan frowned harder.

"That's… gross."

"Yeah, it's gross," Taylor said. "So we're not going there. What I mean is, find their weak spots. Everyone's got them. Take the middle kid—what's his name?"

"Eric."

Taylor nodded.

"Right. His weakness is probably that he's built like a whale. Use that."

"But my mom says that's not okay."

"Of course it's not okay to judge people by their looks. But he's not just some fat kid—he's a fat asshole. He deserves it. He asked for it. Besides, you don't want to know how to be a good boy, follow the rules, and still get fucked over, right? You want to know how to make it stop. That's how."

"But I don't get it," Ethan protested. "He already knows he's fat. Everyone does. What am I supposed to do?"

"Attack, like I said. Crack jokes about his weight. Whale pictures in class? Compare, say he and the whale make for a great weight loss ad, before and way before. Rushing to leave class? 'Make way or he'll bust a hole in the wall'—I don't know, make shit up."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"There are a million ways to hit a weak spot," Taylor pressed. "That's why it's a weak spot. At your age, you're starting to notice girls, even if you pretend you're not. If you know he likes a girl, give him fake hope, get him to confess in public, humiliate him. I don't know him—just throwing ideas out. But you get it, right?"

"Yeah, but… that's just doing to him what he does to me."

"Bingo."

"That's not right."

"Right and wrong shouldn't matter. Or, sorry—better yet, right and wrong depend on who you ask, and you can't be doing the 'right' thing now because you're miserable. He attacks you for fun. You attack him for peace of mind. No comparison, kid."

"I… guess that's true."

"It is. And even if it weren't, it's time to grow up. You can't always do the 'right' thing. Sometimes you have to choose, and this is simple: Do you want to be a victim or not? I went through the same as you—worse—and trust me, things don't magically get better. People say school isn't the real world. They're right. The real world's worse. Out there, you can't cry to Mommy, Daddy, or teachers. School becomes high school, then college, then work. The only difference is the people screwing you over get smarter. That's the truth, kid. If you don't prepare now, they'll eat you alive. This is easy compared to what's coming."

Ethan looked away. Bad sign. But then he took a deep breath.

"Okay. Okay, I'll try."

Taylor stood, took another sip of her Coke, crushed the empty can in her hands, and tossed the remains into a trash bin ten meters away. Swish.

She ruffled Ethan's hair.

"Glad to hear it. I was like you once. Now I'm… new. Things only get better if you make them better."

Ethan nodded. He looked determined.

"Good luck, squirt. You've been brave so far. Just be a little braver. Keep your head high—you deserve it. You're better than those worms. You're a good kid. You just can't afford to be good all the time."

"What's your name?" Ethan asked softly, after a pause.

Loki, she almost said.

"Taylor," she answered finally.

Chapter Text

The clatter of cutlery, the sounds of chewing. Moonlight streamed in through the window, bathing the small dining room table. A scene that seemed idyllic, almost. Just another scene in the Herbert household.

And it always would, no matter what stirred beneath the surface. There it would remain, beneath the surface.

"Nothing happened this morning when you went for your run, right?" Dad asked. "And how was your first day of school?"

An attempt at conversation, nothing more.

Taylor smiled.

"Of course nothing happened, don't worry." She lied. But that was almost all she did lately. "Besides, even if something did happen, I can handle myself now."

Danny looked profoundly uncomfortable. He had rarely looked comfortable after Mom's incident. But now it was even worse. He always got like this when he remembered her, how things had changed.

"Your powers are amazing, honey. I know that. But you're not invincible. You can get shot or stabbed."

"No. I understand your concern, but really, I could handle it. They wouldn't get close enough to stab me. And getting a gun isn't that easy."

"Okay, but I'd feel better if you didn't go alone. Couldn't you run with some of the Wards? You told me you made friends, that they're good kids."

"Yeah, well. I guess I'll ask them. When we have some free time."

Dad nodded.

"Okay, thank you. That's all I ask. Well, now... Now tell me about your first day, right?"

Taylor smiled even wider.

"I mean... Oh, you know. Nothing special."

——

This was the truth.

After leaving that boy behind in the park, with a life lesson he'd better start applying, it didn't take long for her to find trouble. She was just minding her own business, running, doing her route. And before she knew it, she ended up on the ground.

Laughter. The cackles echoed in her temples as if her head was going to explode. Looking around, for a moment she thought she had hit her head too hard, that she was hallucinating or dreaming. What a coincidence.

And not in a good way, of course. Never in a good way.

"As clumsy as ever, huh?" Emma said between laughs.

This wasn't Winslow. They were on the street, in broad daylight, where anyone could see them. And many other things had changed. Now she was someone with powers, someone important.

If there was one thing she wasn't going to tolerate anymore, it was an insult. For her own good, she had to return them all with twice the fury.

But some things didn't change. That laugh... it was still the same, piercing her very soul.

Taylor knew it was still too soon, but she was already seeing red. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms so hard she almost drew blood.

She was close, she admitted, to making a mistake that everyone present would regret. Because, of course, Emma wasn't alone. She was with Madison.

It was strange to see them together after school. She couldn't imagine them as real friends. She couldn't imagine those creatures having the ability to have real friends in the first place.

And not just Madison. They were all present. Sophia was the one who put an end to the situation before it got out of hand, putting a hand on Emma's shoulder.

"That's enough," she said sharply.

"Huh? What's wrong with you?" Emma was surprised. "Now that she's transferred to a better school, you don't want to touch Hebert anymore or what?"

Sophia snorted, looking at Taylor out of the corner of her eye, with full, unrestrained rage. Rage, murderous intent, rather.

"Don't be silly," she practically spat. "I'm getting bored, you know? Always the same thing and the same person. It was funny back in the day, but we've overdone it. There's no way to top what we did with the locker."

"So that's enough."

Emma grimaced.

"Okay, okay."

"Let's go," Sophia insisted.

What is this?, Loki thought. An olive branch? Don't think it's going to be that easy. Don't think it's possible.

Emma followed Sophia, walking away. And, of course, the insignificant Madison was quick to follow them, without protest. But Emma couldn't bite her tongue, she couldn't help it, she couldn't swallow her pride.

"You got lucky today, Hebert," she spat. "Next time, you'll see."

Taylor slowly got up, fists clenched, knuckles white and slightly trembling. She had been itching to teach her a good lesson. Being honest with herself, she might have seriously hurt her.

If it weren't for Sophia taking on the role of the voice of reason for once... An event that must be among the red comet and the trumpets as signs of the apocalypse.

Taylor sighed. She would have enjoyed it. She would have felt great satisfaction, but only for a few seconds. It wasn't worth it. She had a plan, and what she really needed was to do things right.

Sophia would fall under her own weight. That way she avoided making her look like a victim and kept her own hands clean. When Sophia fell, it would be Emma's and Madison's turn, and that person—if you could even call her that—the bitch who had pretended to be her friend for months.

She would get her damn due too. Loki wouldn't rest until all debts were settled.

——

Her first impression of Arcadia was very good, although of course, a visit to a landfill would have left her with a positive impression compared to Winslow.

Not only was it a more elegant, professional, and well-built school, but the human garbage that undoubtedly roamed its halls at least had the decency to hide it.

At Winslow, too many bullies, belonging to this or that gang, strutted around without fear of consequences, passing around drugs and who knows what else.

Here she would have to get to know people first to make sure if they were trash or not. Although, well, that was just a figure of speech; she wasn't there to make friends.

The only people of interest were the Wards. Now that she was going to Arcadia, she would have much more time for private scheming. And since Shadow Stalker was at Winslow, there would be nothing she could even try against her.

Her first day at Arcadia went well. Vista insisted that she eat with her and the others, so Taylor did as she was told to satisfy her. Nothing more. She was fine on her own.

Part of her expected to see Gallant at the table, but no. The superhero was absent once again. She hadn't asked about him yet, and with each passing day, she was less sure if she should.

Anyway, it was a little annoying that he was absent for whatever reason and could reappear at any moment. But it didn't change anything. It didn't matter. When he came back, she would be ready. That was all that mattered.

The meal was... well, as good as it could have been. Small talk wasn't her thing, although she had been trying lately, at least.

She felt uncomfortable, like the center of attention, and not just because she was the new girl at school.

How many strings would the Protectorate pull to cover up, to not make people suspect that every transferred student was a Ward?

Anyway, that wasn't her job. Once recess was over, Taylor went straight to the bathroom. Vista didn't go with her. She didn't need to.

Good, because little Missy had been trying twice as hard to make her feel included since she confessed that she wasn't exactly used to having friends.

So it wouldn't have surprised her if she had gone with her to the bathroom, if she hadn't stopped talking even then. Lately she talked almost as much as Clockblocker. Well, Dennis. She had to say Dennis, just in case she slipped up.

Getting used to using each name in the appropriate context...

In any case, Taylor arrived at the bathroom, washed her face, and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't like what she saw. Well, that was nothing new. She went into the stall to do her business. She flushed the toilet and, when she came out, she was no longer alone.

They hadn't made any noise. That, or she had been too lost in her thoughts.

In any case, they were typical teenagers trying to look older than they were. The uniform skirt, even shorter. And, of course, the six girls who had snuck in were smoking like chimneys.

That is, they started smoking after she came out. Otherwise, she would have at least smelled the smoke.

"You're the new girl, right?" one of them asked; only, of course, it wasn't a question. "Fancy a smoke?" she said, extending the cigarette in her direction.

Taylor looked at it and, for a moment, considered laughing in her face. Then she smiled and said:

"Sure, why not?"

She took the offered cigarette and put her free hand in an—previously empty—pocket, from which she took out a perfectly functional lighter.

Loki had many faces.

——

The Wards arrived one by one, almost, so Taylor had to witness several reunion scenes. Somewhat melodramatic. They hadn't seen him in months.

The only thing that caught her attention, that piqued her curiosity quite a bit, was that Dean never gave a direct answer when asked where the hell he had been. Evasions, nothing more.

Loki was a person of curious nature. Although curiosity killed the cat, she liked to count its stripes, so to speak. She was burning to satisfy her curiosity.

She also didn't overlook that Vista was the happiest to see him return. Anyone who wasn't blind would realize that little Missy was in love.

Well, well. Not only a boy much older than her, but she had to compete with Glory Girl of New Wave. What a first love the girl had found.

She didn't want to ask Dean directly. For starters, she would get the same vague answer as everyone else. So, when she saw an opportunity in the middle of the "celebration," Loki pounced on Vista.

"I was starting to worry," she said. "Not seeing him anywhere... Nobody talked about him either. I didn't know how to ask."

"Oh," Vista replied. "I understand how that must have looked like."

"You don't know why he hasn't been here for so many days?"

"He hasn't told me anything more than to everybody else, if that's what you're thinking, but I think I know."

"Oh, yeah?" Juicy. She hadn't expected that.

Missy shrugged.

"Well, probably for the same reason as always. Victoria. They're always fighting. Always breaking up and getting back together." Missy shook her head. "I don't understand what he sees in her and what Victoria doesn't see in Dean. He's good." The girl smiled. "Gallant. There are few men like that left. At least that's what my mother says all the time."

Vista blushed slightly, as if she had suddenly realized that it was a very childish thing to say.

"Girl problems, is that what you think, then?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Loki nodded.

"And you think they would let him be absent for that, just like that?"

"Sure, why not? It's a serious personal matter. It wouldn't be the first time he's taken a 'mini vacation' for that."

"Aha," Taylor replied, as she watched Aegis throw Dean to the ground, doing some wrestling move on him, most likely poorly imitated. With the power Aegis had, he didn't need to know fighting techniques to take down his enemies.

She had missed the conversation between all those fools, but she assumed that now the glorious leader was "punishing" the wayward sheep for being absent for a long time. Too long. Well, "wayward sheep"... it was hard to say that with Shadow Stalker in the same room.

Loki and Shadow Stalker locked eyes only once. An electric moment. Neither of them would back down. Loki couldn't predict the future, but it was obvious that this wouldn't end until one destroyed the other.

Loki didn't feel guilty, she didn't hesitate. It was Shadow Stalker who had set all this in motion. It was simply time for her to reap what she sowed.

The Wards were going out on patrol, all except Sophia, of course. She had come to the base, probably with the excuse of seeing Dean after so many days. Although, more likely, to keep an eye on him. But she couldn't go any further. Armsmaster had suspended her until further notice, after all.

That's why Taylor greatly enjoyed looking at her and smiling, as she headed to the locker room to put on her costume. It was all conjured by her illusions, with one exception: the mask. That was the only thing that was in her locker.

The Protectorate had insisted on it, considering it important that at least her face was covered by something real in case of emergency, in case she got exhausted in the middle of a fight and her illusions failed her. It didn't seem likely, exactly, but she hadn't felt like arguing about it. It was much easier to just accept it, to put on the damn mask.

Of course, the design hadn't been her idea either, but it fit the Trickster she was supposed to be. The professionals at the Protectorate hadn't done a bad job.

Taylor summoned her staff and her fluid, green costume. Then she placed the mask over her face, adjusting it well.

One more mask.

With each passing day, Shadow Stalker felt more cornered.

She knew what Taylor was doing, of course. She had told her to her face, word for word. But she couldn't think of what she could do about it. What she could even start to do.

So now Sophia was on the sofa in the common room, hands on her chin, trying to think, while she squirmed with frustration. She was a ball of nervous energy, impossible to turn off.

She couldn't go out on patrol, at least not officially. Which was important to her. That freedom... Unleashing her physical superiority and her capacity for violence on acceptable targets. She could breathe easy. Although it wasn't the same as before, thanks to this. And the way Emma made her school life easier, filling it with "distractions" and allowing her to get away with anything...

Now she couldn't even hunt down a few damn criminals with the help of fake arrows. Arrows that couldn't even hurt, or kill. Incapacitate, at most.

"Fuck, what a load of shit," Sophia muttered under her breath.

Anyway, she was alone right now. Everyone was getting dressed, preparing for patrol. She could grab her suit, get dressed, and get out of there to hunt, without the Protectorate's knowledge.

She could. And she was about to do it, but then she considered that that might be exactly what Loki wanted her to do. To crumble under the pressure and self-sabotage in that way.

Sophia shook her head.

"No, no." She shook it again. "I'm not giving her that damn satisfaction."

She didn't know when she had started talking to herself. It was a sign that there was no one who wanted to listen to her.

Sophia frowned, looking down at her lap. She had a lot to think about. Carefully.

Chapter Text

"Taylor? Can I talk to you?" Gallant asked. "In private."

Loki smiled; she had expected this.

"Of course, we're teammates, after all."

She got up to follow him out of the room. Missy looked at her, half curious, half convinced they were going to make out or something.

She was cute when she was jealous. She supposed Dean himself was the only one who hadn't noticed the girl's crush.

"Out here, in the hallway, I'm listening," said Taylor, her back against the wall, arms crossed.

And her ankles too. It was a very casual, carefree posture. Something that, until very recently, she never thought she could adopt naturally, ever.

That was life, things could change very quickly.

"Look," Gallant said, "I don't want to put you on the spot, but I've noticed you seem a little happy about what's been happening with Sophia lately."

"I've noticed," Taylor repeated. "You say that as if it has nothing to do with your powers."

She scoffed openly, a little risky, perhaps, but it just came out that way.

"Yes," Dean admitted easily. "Yes, it's true. I'm used to people not liking me talking about it, even though they might assume that's the reason."

"I understand. Would you mind if we went to my room or yours? Look, I wouldn't want the rest of the conversation to be caught on camera. Before you say anything, for Sophia's sake, not mine."

Yes, that was the reason she hadn't cut the conversation short earlier, so that the cameras would capture the beginning. It wasn't certain that someone, maybe Armsmaster, maybe Miss Militia, would review the recordings or start to suspect in the first place. It wasn't certain, and she hadn't planned Gallant's visit, but it wouldn't hurt to recognize an opportunity and squeeze it for all it was worth.

"Okay," Gallant said finally. "Wherever you want, mine is closer," he added.

"I'd feel more comfortable in mine." It wasn't that she thought Dean was so intelligent or suspicious as to have installed recorders, microphones, or anything like that in his room, hoping to catch her. Fine, but one had to be cautious.

"Okay," Dean shrugged. "Okay, whatever you want."

Gallant followed her to her room, going inside. Taylor always went home to her father. At the moment, she had only used this room on the first day, but it could always be needed, so it was good that each of them had one. Taylor sat on the bed, she hadn't even bothered to decorate the room, it was just a room, after all, four walls like any other place.

"It's true," Loki admitted. "Seeing Sophia tense, pressured, makes me happy. So what?"

"So what?" Gallant repeated. It was clear he hadn't expected that question.

Taylor shrugged.

"You must have another reason for starting this conversation, right? Because nobody likes Shadow Stalker. I'm not the only one who's happy."

"She blames you," Gallant said.

"And you suspect me because of my emotions."

"They're quite a bit more intense than other people's," Dean admitted.

"That's natural. Sophia bullied me at school, after all. At Winslow."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"And why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, I'm here, aren't I? New school, new team, new beginning. I have no intention of sabotaging her. I don't know how long you've had that power, but I guess you must have learned by now that what you feel is one thing, and what you do is another."

A very curious expression crossed Dean's face. She couldn't tell what it meant.

"Sure," he said finally.

"Sophia made my life hell, and she would have kept doing it, if it weren't for the fact that I got powers because of her."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to say."

Taylor put on her best sad smile. A smile of someone who punishes herself for feelings she shouldn't have.

"I know it's wrong to be happy that she's having a hard time. Believe it or not, I'm ashamed." Okay, the time had come. This part was very important to sell the story. Correct. Shame. Naturally, the best option to feel shame, easier and faster, was to think of her mother. What would Annette say if she could see her now? She wouldn't be ashamed, obviously, of her strength of spirit. That she didn't give up. That she did everything possible to avoid being just a victim again. But what she was doing and what she planned to do in the future... surely that would cross many lines for her mother. She wouldn't turn her back on her. She wasn't that kind of woman. But she would be disappointed in her. She was almost one hundred percent sure. Ashamed. "It's not something I'm proud of, believe me. But I can't just snap my fingers and avoid it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I understand." Dean swallowed.

"Don't tell anyone what she made me suffer, okay? Well, almost nobody. You can talk about it with Vista, if you want. I also told her. She's a good girl."

Gallant's smile widened a little.

"Yes, she's a very good girl. I'm proud of her. Sounds weird, doesn't it? I'm not that much older than her, but I'm proud."

Taylor shrugged.

"Weird, why? Gallant, do you understand, right?"

"I don't know if I know what you mean."

Taylor suppressed the urge to click her tongue.

"I'm not doing what Sophia says I'm doing. I enjoy what she does to herself, that's all. But she can't help but think of me because of the history we share. I mean, the things she's done to me. It's natural to think I'd want revenge. I don't blame her for that. I think she's just stressed, you know, because the secret might come out. The kinds of things she does. What she made me suffer. A Trigger Event. That would end her probation completely. That's for sure. So I understand that she's stressed, but..."

"And I also understand why you want to keep it quiet. But if that's true, Taylor, then this doesn't just affect you. How many other people could she bully, and push to the brink? She's a teammate, after all. I don't want to do something like that to her, but... I don't hate her. Sometimes she makes it difficult, but I don't hate her. Still, we should think about the innocents she could hurt. Don't you want to stop this before there's another person in your place?"

Loki almost wanted to bite her tongue off. She had planned everything meticulously down to the last detail. She had practiced and perfected the strategy to deceive Gallant, which in the end hadn't been that much. The kid could read feelings, not her mind, after all. Feelings were fickle and easily manipulated, even hers. But never, ever had she anticipated that the biggest obstacle would be that the name Gallant suited him well. For innocents, for nameless and faceless strangers, people who had nothing to do with him, he was willing to earn such a headache.

To sink one of his teammates, for better or for worse. And Loki didn't want that.

It was too soon, too easy.

"I'll give you some time," Dean said finally. "I'll give it to you. But if you don't tell the truth, I will."

Loki slowly looked back at him. Anger, suppressed as much as possible, boiling beneath the surface. She had to choose her words even more carefully.

"Do you really want to do this to her?" she asked finally, just after Dean turned to leave. "Don't you think she has a chance to change? Or that she deserves it?"

"Everyone deserves a second chance," he said without a second thought. God, she didn't know how he could say phrases like that with a straight face. "But she wasn't just playing around. A Trigger Event is something very serious, Taylor. That's something all parahumans know perfectly well."

"I have more right than you to punish her," she replied finally. She didn't add: And I'm leaving her alone, anyway. First, because, all things considered, anyone would assume that's how the sentence ended. And second, because it would be a lie. She was perfectly allowed to lie; it's not like Gallant was going to guess. He read her emotions, not her thoughts. But Taylor liked to lie with selective truth. It was elegant and somewhat more challenging.

"Listen," Dean said, softening his voice. "It speaks well of you that you want to move on. But, I repeat, this is not about you. It's about other people who will surely go through the same thing. It's not revenge, so you don't have to feel guilty. It would just be doing the right thing."

What a stubborn idiot. Until now everything had gone smoothly, and now a stupidly honest stubborn idiot was going to be what ruined her plan?

She refused. She simply refused. But what the hell could she do? How could she convince this imbecile who only wanted to do the right thing?

The only variable that she hadn't taken into account.

Chapter Text

Loki made a decision. Quickly. Maybe not the best one, but she didn't have much time to waste. Something had to be done. And quickly. Loki got out of bed, grabbing Dean by the arm to pull him back.

"I understand that you think you're doing your best," she said, "but you're trying to screw me over."

"I don't know what you mean."

"What I mean is, what do you think is going to happen? I don't have any proof. Are they going to send Armsmaster or Miss Militia in civilian clothes to investigate Winslow? And even if they did that, how many people would talk to them? And tell them what Sophia does? It's her word against mine. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Look, I don't know what they would do. That's not my business, but they would handle it. Somehow."

"I told you. It's her word against mine." Taylor squeezed his arm tighter. "You would only give credence to Sophia's accusations, that I'm trying to sabotage her somehow. Don't you understand? You would ruin me."

"I don't think it's that easy, Taylor," Dean replied. But, suddenly, he seemed much more unsure. "They wouldn't have proof of that either. I mean, they can't if you're not doing it."

"Sure. But they don't need proof to make my life more difficult. And for Sophia to come out on top. Smelling like roses, with the perfect excuse for everything she's been doing lately. How she's been behaving."

Taylor looked away. She ran her other hand over her mouth. Her lips were dry, she noticed.

"I don't know. What you say makes sense, but..."

"But what, Dean?" Taylor let go of him. "I can't stop you from doing anything. I'm not even going to try, but I'm asking you. Now is the worst time to reveal something like that."

"I guess... I don't know... I guess you're right. Even if I don't like it."

"Thank you."

"Or maybe..."

Oh, shit! Here we go!

"I read your file. I'm sorry. The incident with the locker, there's really no one who can testify Sophia doing that? Pushing you inside? From what I understand, it was quite public."

Loki looked at him with something akin to pity.

"It shows that you're a rich kid, huh? You'd be going to a private school if you weren't a Ward."

"And because I don't want to abuse my privileges," he replied, clearly defensive. "But what does that have to do with it?"

"Things don't work like that, Gallant. They just don't. Nobody would testify for shit. If they were going to, they would have done it a long time ago."

Gallant lowered his head, clearly thoughtful. The problem was that she had no idea what the hell he had to think about. Seriously? Had she really not managed to convince that stupid son of a bitch yet? Incredible.

"Okay, Taylor. I won't say anything for now. See you later."

Then he turned and left. And Loki didn't stop her. She had already done everything she could do. However, she gritted her teeth, grabbed the lamp on the nightstand, and threw it against the wall, causing it to shatter into pieces. However, it didn't feel like a victory, far from it. "I won't say anything for now." For now. She gritted her teeth even harder. They were chattering.

There was only rage there. No fear that her game would end too soon, you stubborn idiot. She was pretty sure she had everything under control. Just not 100%, maybe 99.9%. Still, the difference was enough to drive her mad with rage.

She needed control.

—

Taylor went home. As soon as she finished, there was training and the routine patrol. She didn't see Sophia all day, which she was quite grateful for. She didn't need any more reasons to lose her temper. She did see Missy and she was grateful for that, especially after she asked her if she wanted to go out for a drink, have some fun together, clear her head. Although, unfortunately, she had to decline her offer. It was something she had been hoping for deep down, but she really wasn't in the mood. She hoped that wouldn't undo the progress she had made, that Vista would understand. If she didn't, well, Taylor had done everything she could. It wouldn't be her fault.

Danny wasn't home when she arrived; better, in a way. Taylor undid the illusion she called her costume and took off her mask. Then she took off everything else to get in the shower. She did need to have some fun, clear her head, but alone. Deep down in her heart she didn't want to be alone, or so she thought. But when her back hit the wall, she always went back inside her shell. Actions spoke louder than words, after all.

Taylor sat in the bathtub and curled up into a ball while the water kept falling. A blurry curtain covering the narrow walls that surrounded her. Enclosed her. She felt overwhelmed, there was a knot in her chest that she couldn't undo. Taylor doubled over even more, convinced that she would vomit, but in the end she didn't. Good, good, because she was exaggerating.

Gallant wouldn't say anything. And even if he did, nobody would believe him. Nobody would believe him and, if necessary, even she would deny it. She would give Sophia a rope to escape with, at least for a few extra weeks. Would she be able to do that to herself just so her plan would work out perfectly? Would she be able to betray herself like that? She didn't doubt it. But she had told Vista. She knew too.

Then what?

Nothing. She was sure she could get little Missy to say what she wanted, or at least to keep her mouth shut about it. She had nothing, nothing, nothing to worry about. Nothing.

She felt like vomiting, out of pure rage, even so.

"Did something happen, Taylor?" Dad asked. "You look a little pale."

"What could have happened? We're the Wards, Dad, not the Guardians." Taylor shrugged. "It's to be expected. But hey, you know what I mean."

"I wasn't thinking... Well... Yes, I was, but not about that kind of thing. I was thinking about that girl, Shadow Stalker. That maybe she'd... gone too far. I don't know."

"Well, I don't even see her around lately."

Danny nodded.

"You said she's off-duty until an investigation clears everything up. But she still hangs around the base, right? She wasn't banned from that?"

"Not really, but I guess what happened has humbled her a bit. She's not as unpleasant anymore. She knows how to keep quiet."

"Ah, I see. Maybe that's what she needed. I'm glad."

She needed it, Loki thought. There's no doubt about that. But it's not enough. I've only just begun.

Dad stared at her, looking dazed.

More and more so, as she finished breakfast and headed for the door to run to school.

She thought he wouldn't say anything, but in the end, he spoke.

"I love seeing you like this, every morning."

"Like what?"

"Like this, you know, happy to go to school, excited even."

Loki nodded.

"Well, I have reasons now."

Loki turned around, while Danny said goodbye, and waited until then to smile ear to ear, as if reveling in something.

—

As soon as she arrived at school, Loki looked for Gallant and quickly found him. He looked at her as if he didn't know what to think. She supposed that happened often to people who were "a bit slow." Speaking of slow people, more than one girl looked at her as they passed, as if thinking, poor stupid ugly girl, she doesn't know he has a girlfriend and that he's out of her league anyway.

Which annoyed her a little, even though she had zero interest in the guy. He might be handsome, but he was too frustrating. She'd end up killing him in a few weeks. They were right about one thing, of course. She couldn't win over someone like Gallant, even if she used her best tricks and deceptions. Not with this appearance, at least.

Ugly girls were very aware of that. No one needed to remind them. Luckily, she didn't care about that anymore; she had other priorities now.

"Before you say anything," Dean began, "I haven't told anyone, yet."

Loki nodded. "Good, keep it that way."

"I still think this is a mistake," Gallant said, "that things can't be as bad as you say."

I don't give a shit what you think, Loki almost spat.

"But you've never been through anything like this," she said calmly. "So you can't know."

"No, I haven't." Dean sighed. "But if I find out that Sophia has done something, crossed another line... Look, I'm not going to stand by and watch someone suffer, okay? You can't ask me to do that."

Loki smiled. "And I haven't. Relax."

"Okay, that's a relief."

Loki patted him on the back. "Don't feel bad. You're not doing anything wrong. You're a good guy." It was very difficult to keep the condescension out of her voice. Dean could read emotions, so maybe he picked up on something. Maybe. But if he did, he didn't say anything.

Taylor turned to leave, but she didn't get far.

"Wait."

Loki turned on her heels, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Can I ask you a favor?" Gallant asked. "I don't know if you're the right person for this, but I don't know who to turn to. So..."

No details, but it sounded juicy.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Not here. Let's go somewhere more private."

"As you wish."

Loki followed him. Some of those girls who had looked at her so condescendingly were now dumbfounded. Well, they couldn't know the content of the whispered conversation. And Gallant had his back to her, so Loki took advantage. She looked at those stuck-up bitches and made a universal gesture with the fingers of both hands.

Once they were alone in an empty classroom…

"What do you want?"

Loki got straight to the point.

"It's something incredibly personal, I don't know if I should tell you."

Loki shrugged, even though she was dying to know what it was.

"Then don't tell me. I can't and won't force you. It's your business."

"I feel lost and I don't know who to turn to." Dean sighed. "I don't talk to many girls. Well, except for Victoria and her sister. But that's the problem."

"Glory Girl and Panacea?" Loki raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with them?"

Dean turned away, put a hand to his mouth, thoughtfully. Loki thought he would change his mind. That he would leave with some clumsy apology, playing the gallant. But then he looked back at her, though clearly hesitant, and said:

"What would you do if you knew someone was very close to a mental breakdown?"

"Is this your subtle way of asking me about Sophia?"

"What? No, I already told you it's about my girlfriend and her sister."

"What's going on? Did you cheat on Glory Girl?"

"No, let me finish, okay? It's about Panacea, about Amy."

Dean sat down, pulling out one of the chairs from under the table. He took a deep breath and then exhaled deeply, as if he believed he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

What a melodramatic boy. Loki thought it must be a teenage thing.

"I can't tell you the details, I'm sorry. But it's bad. It's really bad and I'm afraid something will happen one day. That's why I spent some time away. Some things happened." Dean shook his head. "What would you do?"

"Do you know for sure? Is your power that good?"

Probably not. If it were, he would have found her out already. She wouldn't have been able to fool him so easily.

"It's not that my power is as precise as some people fear. It's just that Amy's emotions aren't very subtle. The girl has a lot of problems and responsibilities. The healing. Family problems. Guilt and other things I can't tell you about."

Fucking hell. Curiosity was eating her up inside. What was going on with little Panacea?

"You're not giving me many details. I don't know how you expect me to help," Loki pointed out. She didn't expect him to open up with that, but it was true. "Take her to a therapist or something, what do I know." She crossed her arms.

"I'd say that only works if you want to be helped."

"Anything you come up with will only work if she wants to be helped."

Gallant reacted as if she had slapped him. He blinked rapidly. He looked away.

"That's true. You're absolutely right. But I don't think... I don't think she'll go to any psychologist, even if her sister asks her to. And she's the most important person to her."

A strange expression crossed Dean's face, and Loki would have liked to know what it meant. Damn, she'd give an arm for it.

"If even the most important person to her can't make her change direction, or at least try, I mean, what makes you think you can help her?"

"I feel like I have to. Because I'm the only one who knows how bad it really is. One of these days, I don't know..."

"I'd tell you I'll talk to her," Loki said. "But you haven't given me anything to talk about."

"I know, I know. You don't have to keep reminding me." Dean ran a hand through his hair. "This is complicated, Taylor. And very personal. She's my girlfriend's sister. And more importantly, she's a good girl, deep down. I don't want anything to happen to her."

Deep down, Loki suppressed the urge to smile. What had little Panacea done or wanted to do?

Deep down, huh. Deep down. Very interesting. Very interesting.

"You want my advice?" Loki began after thinking about it, not too much, to be honest. "I'll tell you not to think you're so important, tell Victoria. Tell her how bad she is, whatever it is that even she doesn't know about her own sister. You said it, right? She's the most important person to Amy. If anyone can help her, it's her."

Dean tilted his head, clasping his hands in his lap.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

For a moment it crossed her mind that Amy might be jealous of her sister. Well, that was for sure. Amy was a normal girl, rather plain, while Glory Girl was a total Barbie. Tall, blonde, a waist as thin as a pencil, and breasts almost as big as her butt. Well, not quite, but compared to Panacea...

Anyway, she meant more specific jealousy, about the knight in shining armor. But Loki dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it had come to her. After all, Gallant had said that he was sure Amy was a good person deep down. A very curious choice of words. She couldn't get it out of her head. She couldn't wait to find out what secrets New Wave was hiding.

Taylor didn't let her thoughts show on her face, and simply shrugged, as if to say "what can you do?"

"Well, I tried. I don't know what else I can tell you."

"You've done everything you can. Thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't have made it easier for you, but I think you've helped me."

"I'm glad, then. Is that all, Dean?"

"Yes. Besides, we're going to be late for class if we're not careful."

"Right, right."

They left and went to the classroom they were actually supposed to be in. Taylor, lost in thought, her main target was Sophia. Then Emma and Madison, they would pay too. It would be easy.

But Amy...

Loki didn't believe there were good people deep down. Only good people, and bad people. It didn't matter if she was a supposed heroine who saved the lives of countless people, or improved them. If it was necessary... If what she had seen in Gallant's eyes was more fear of what Amy could do than what could happen to her...

Then she would also pay for her mistakes.

The serpent would smile from the shadows all the while, silently balancing the scales.

Making the world regain its sanity.

Chapter Text

The days passed quietly. She didn't see Sophia much and spoke even less, just enough to keep up appearances. It was pleasurable to see how Sophia avoided her, as if she were afraid of her.

Taylor was satisfied with that.

She wasn't a particularly patient person, but for the reward waiting for her at the end of the rainbow, she could be patient, haha.

Besides...

It was as if Sophia were already 'dead.'

Loki had lit the fuse. She had to wait for it to explode, but it would explode. It was something that had already been 'decided,' like a vision of the future. There was no one who could extinguish that fuse.

Even Sophia herself knew she was finished, that she had no cards to play.

That's why she was running away from her like a little lamb.

Like a beaten dog.

That's why, lately, she was thinking more about Panacea and Glory Girl than Shadow Stalker.

Taylor approached the New Wave home in civilian clothes, hands stuffed in her pockets. She had her mp3 player's earbuds in, but wasn't listening to music. She knew it was risky to come here, to intrude. But curiosity always got the better of her, sooner or later. Curiosity could kill her, but it could also bring her back to life, haha.

Taylor turned the corner and then turned invisible, cloaked in an illusion. She peeked through the windows, confirming that at least Amy and her mother were there. Brandish, she knew her superhero name, but the woman's real name wouldn't come to mind. Well, it didn't matter.

She carefully opened one of the back windows, slipping into the house.

With some training, she had managed to suppress the sound of her footsteps consistently. So they shouldn't be able to detect her unless they bumped into her. Or if Gallant was visiting, she supposed he could read her emotions, even while she was invisible... Yes, that could be a problem. But well, he'd read 'emotions' and that's it, they wouldn't necessarily know who they belonged to.

And she was already in the house.

She wasn't going to leave with her tail between her legs now.

Without knowing exactly what she expected to find, Loki went to observe the mischievous Amy up close.

She could only hear a trivial conversation with her mother.

Amy said something that obviously meant she was adopted, but that was irrelevant to Loki. She doubted Gallant was worried about Amy's real family. Not with the fear she had seen in his eyes. It was something more direct, personal.

But it was clear that she wasn't going to get anything by standing idly by, listening like a fly on the wall. Only Dean knew how messed up Amy was, right? Whatever was happening to her, whatever could make her finally break down, it was a secret.

Amy wouldn't talk about it.

Maybe, however, she could find it in her room. It wasn't difficult to sneak in. The door had been left ajar.

She investigated the drawers, making sure to leave everything where it was. Even if Amy noticed something, she wouldn't automatically think that an invisible person had been investigating her things. People simply didn't work that way, even in a world where superpowers were simply a fact of life.

But it never hurt to be cautious.

After all that effort...

She didn't find anything out of the ordinary. Loki frowned. Frustrating. She shouldn't have expected to hit the jackpot right away, so to speak, but it was still frustrating.

Patience wasn't something that came naturally to her. She took a deep breath. With Sophia, she was managing because the reward was worth it, and because everything was already set up. With this? With Amy, who she was only pursuing out of mere curiosity, not real interest? Ironically, it was much harder.

"Amy? Are you there?"

Glory Girl's voice, she supposed. She might be semi-famous, but she hadn't heard her voice that many times. She sounded young, so there was a limited number of candidates, in any case.

Loki bit her lip. She hadn't heard her. She couldn't have heard her.

Her illusions were perfect. Naturally, not only her form but her shadow was invisible. She had probably only been drawn to the ajar door. It was normal, and nothing to worry about.

However, she supposed it was time to leave.

She wasn't going to get anything. Not today, not like this, surely.

"Amy?"

Glory Girl entered her adopted sister's room. But, of course, by then there was nothing. Only a slight breeze coming through the window.

—

Loki slipped out of the Dallon family's grounds and made herself visible again in an alley two or three blocks away. Just in case. The last thing she needed was to sabotage her efforts with Sophia, when she was so close to getting everything she wanted.

She started walking back home.

Taylor had lived in Brockton Bay her whole life, yet the streets were becoming less and less familiar to her. It wasn't because the New Wave house was on a different side of town. Even the street she had grown up on seemed like it was from a different city.

She wasn't sure why. The city had always been a dump, and she had realized that years ago. Before her mother died, even, although back then she had had more... optimism. It was hard to overlook the times when a classmate had been sent THERE because they had taken THAT. And even worse were the fantasies awakened in her young mind by the vague murmurs.

Well, in short, she had quickly learned that life was hard and unfair, everything could go wrong in an instant. And Brockton Bay's environment didn't help those who were teetering, most of the time it only gave them the final push.

So it wasn't about the city itself.

But then what was it? What was it that made her feel like she was walking through the streets of a different city?

Did it even matter?

Maybe it was just her mind wandering because she felt like she had nothing to do, aside from waiting. Because the lack of purpose always ate away at her.

She would never say that she knew herself very well, but it was perfectly possible that it was just that.

Anyway, it didn't matter. Whatever the answer was, it came down to pointless overthinking.

She finally arrived back home.

Dad would surely be in there, wondering why she had taken so long. She hoped he wouldn't ask too many questions. Neither about this nor about other things. She didn't like lying to him. She would do it if necessary, as she had done so far, but she didn't have to like it.

Dad opened the door. There was a... curious expression on his face.

"Did something happen?"

"You have a visitor."

Loki raised an eyebrow.

"A coworker, you know. She says she wants to apologize."

"Vista? Why would she...?"

"Sophia."

Her expression darkened for an instant. A single instant. If Danny noticed, he surely didn't imagine even half of what went through her head at that precise moment.

"I see."

"She insisted a lot. If you want me to kick her out..."

"No. No need. In the dining room?"

"Yes."

She followed him to the dining room. Sophia was waiting there, sitting cross-legged on their sofa. She was dressed in civilian clothes, but that didn't really matter. Obviously.

"Hello, Taylor."

Loki did everything she could to control her expression and reactions, for Dad's sake. He didn't need to know that something was going on. He didn't need more stress.

"Hello, Sophia," she replied dryly. "I'm glad you've... come to your senses."

Except that wasn't true.

Except that this was clearly a threat, escalating things.

Well, clearly she had no idea who she was messing with.

Chapter Text

"Dad," Taylor said, her voice carefully controlled, "could you bring us something to snack on, some drinks?"

Dad took a moment to answer, too busy looking at her, as if asking: Is this really okay? But in the end, he decided to go along with it. As soon as Danny left the room, Loki—

"Taylor, or should I call you Loki?"

Lunged at Sophia, grabbing the knife on the table and brandishing it towards her eye.

Sophia caught her wrist, squeezing it, stopping her just inches from the eye. She had been close to succeeding, fast enough to kill her with a single blow. It had been too close.

That wasn't what was supposed to happen. With great willpower, Loki pulled back and left the knife on the table. She shouldn't have done that. Shit! Fucking shit!

"I see you're happy to see me," Sophia said, seeming distracted, thoughtful.

"What do you want?"

"Me? Nothing special. We're teammates. Sooner or later we'll be risking our lives, side by side. Do I need a special reason to visit you?"

"If you keep acting like that, there won't be such a future. You'll get the boot before it can happen."

Sophia's smile widened. It was a bit unsettling, not being sure for the first time what was going through that sick little head of hers.

"You're not so different, after all," that monster finally said. "I thought you had become a different person, as if by magic. Which has been bothering me, because that's impossible. People don't change. But now I see I was mistaken."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You're still the same scared little mouse, Hebert, deep down. You've just gotten good at hiding it."

"Like you? Because you can't tell me you aren't deeply insecure behind all that childish predator-and-prey bullshit."

"On the contrary, I don't hide. I'm more honest than most. And am I wrong? You were prey. And as soon as you tasted a little power, you immediately showed me your claws."

"If you hadn't made screwing me over your life's mission, for no particular reason, I wouldn't have any reason to get back at you."

Taylor spoke freely. She had made sure Sophia wasn't wearing a wire, that it wasn't that kind of ploy. It would be ironic if that had worked on her, considering she had thought more than once about doing something like that to the trio. She had discarded the idea in the end, knowing the recordings wouldn't count. But she had thought about it. That was the point.

"There was no reason, of course," Sophia said. "I was simply amusing myself with the easiest target. Don't look at me as if you're better than me in any way. As if you understand anything."

Danny (by the way, she'd started to suspect why he was taking so long, wondering if maybe he was listening behind the door) entered the living room then with Cokes and some snacks: nuts, a bag of sweets. He left everything on the table that separated them.

"Well, I won't bother you anymore. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about."

"Thank you, Mr. Hebert," Sophia said, playing the good little girl.

Taylor gritted her teeth.

"You're welcome, don't mention it. I'm glad my daughter has visitors."

He still looked at Sophia with some caution, but in the end, he simply left. If he knew that Sophia was not only a coworker but one of the three girls who had tormented her, who had almost put her in the hospital, then perhaps he would have lost his temper, perhaps he would have gone after her.

He might seem like a gentle, meek man. Well, generally he was. She had rarely seen him lose his patience, but she had no desire to see it happen again. And neither did Danny. She knew how hard he tried to control himself, the constant effort to be better. He didn't need to know any more. She would handle this on her own.

Once Dad had left and she made sure he wasn't listening, just in case, Loki turned back to Sophia.

"You said it yourself," she continued after a moment, her voice monotone, dead, emotionless. After all, her emotions were extremely repressed. "I have good reasons to screw you over. You, on the other hand, don't. It was just a whim."

"Of course. I did it because I could and nothing more. But don't tell me you're doing this just to defend yourself. What you're doing isn't on the level of high school pranks."

Pranks. Pranks. How dare she?

"What you're trying to do is ruin my life, my job, my reputation. What did you think would happen? That I'd just sit back with my arms crossed?" Sophia stood up. "It's true. Everything we did to you, what led to you getting those powers, was nothing more than a whim. But now it's personal. That should scare you."

Sophia walked towards her. As she passed, she put a hand on her shoulder.

"The next time I put someone in a locker, it'll be your dear daddy, and he'll only come out of there in a bag. So sit down. Don't make me show you what it means when I take things personally."

She walked on. Towards the door, towards the outside, towards the evening sunlight.

"Sophia."

"What is it, Hebert?"

"Do you really think I was serious before, and that this is the worst I can do? You're the one who needs to prepare. I'm not a loser anymore."

Taylor smiled. She manifested several clones, filling the hallway in an instant.

"Loki has many faces." She dissolved the clones into green smoke. "And always wins."

—

This was personal now. Taylor couldn't just sit back and wait for Sophia to self-destruct, risking her father being hurt as revenge. She needed to speed up the process somehow—in a way that was safe, one that wouldn't expose her either.

Did she really believe Sophia would dare try to kill her father? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe not now, but if pushed to a breaking point, it wouldn't surprise her. Sophia was a vile, wretched bitch. There were few things Taylor didn't think she was capable of, given enough motivation. Doesn't that apply to everyone? Loki mused.

Loki shook her head. Maybe, but Sophia was especially repulsive. What could she do to end this before Shadow Stalker had time to do something stupid? She wasn't sure, but she could fix it. First, she needed information.

Loki thought of Amy, of the curiosity gnawing at her, and her eyes widened.

"Wait… What if it was a trap?" she murmured, barely audible. A test, maybe. The idea that someone so stupid could have fooled her—just the thought turned her stomach. But it was worth considering, wasn't it? He'd gone from hunting her, distrusting her, to vaguely asking for her help with Amy.

Maybe Panacea was perfectly fine, and all Dean had wanted was for her to leave a trail—something to confirm she wasn't who she claimed to be, that her intentions weren't good. Impossible… Right? Could he have actually planned that? If so, she'd been stupid, underestimating him.

Loki clicked her tongue. No, she wasn't stupid. Not at all. She was far from stupid. It was just a slip-up, overlooking someone so irrelevant to her glorious purpose. Everyone made mistakes—even her.

Taylor crossed her legs and rested her chin on her hands. Lost in thought, she sat on her bed, secluded in her room. Her temples throbbed painfully. She didn't want to do anything, didn't feel like talking to anyone, didn't even want to think about anything else. She couldn't just stop thinking, like flipping a switch. Goodbye, thoughts. If only it were that easy. Taylor squeezed her eyes shut.

Frustrated, but she had to think carefully—because in these coming weeks or days, this plan would define the course of her life. Everything had to go right. And it would go right. She'd make sure of it, just like she had so far.

Information. That was the key. She'd have to pay Sophia a visit when she got the chance—just not in a way that would let herself be seen.

Taylor was used to being an unwanted guest.

—

Sophia came home. Hah! What a ridiculous word. It didn't feel anything like home to her, never had. It was like another world—always had been—and nothing that had happened since had changed that.

Either way, she had too much on her mind. She dragged her hands down her face, took a deep breath. Frustrated, she wanted to scream, wanted to smash things, but she knew how useless and childish that would be. She lowered her hands, staring at herself in her bedroom mirror. She looked like shit. No surprise there. Taylor wouldn't believe it, but she'd actually gone there willing to apologize. She'd probably think Sophia was too proud for that, but pride wasn't her problem. She knew her place in the world, and everyone else's. She knew when to bow her head to keep moving forward.

And she couldn't do anything to Taylor. She couldn't prove her own innocence or expose the lies. She couldn't even get rid of her without getting caught. So, she was stuck. In that sense, apologizing wasn't a big sacrifice—it was the only realistic thing she could do. Try to placate her, end this before things spiraled out of control.

"But she had to try stabbing me. Actually stabbing me." Sophia clenched her fists. After that, she hadn't been able to hold back. She'd said things she hadn't meant—empty threats—not for lack of desire, but because acting on them would have been reckless.

Obviously, Taylor wouldn't back down. Even if everything had gone perfectly, she doubted she could've won her over. Still, it had been worth a shot.

"At least I'm not the only one who left with a kick in the teeth." She grinned, sharp and nasty. "Bet I left that bitch unsettled."

Things weren't looking good, but there was still hope. She was sick of being the prey. Soon—she didn't know how—but soon, she'd be the predator. Permanently. She'd make sure of it.

Sophia heard the front door open and grimaced. Only one person would be home this late. She tried to hurry upstairs, but she wasn't fast enough. She'd spent too much time wallowing in self-pity in the living room instead of just going to her damn room. Too late now.

Because suddenly, someone had her by the wrist—gripping hard.

Who else? Her mother, Lucy.

"Are you about to lose your job, Sophia?"

"No."

"I work myself to the bone for you, for your siblings. I don't get a second of rest, and you… You can't even—"

"They're not firing me," Sophia repeated. "I've told you a million times, but you never believe me, Mom. I mean—"

Lucy slapped her before she could finish. Sophia's eyes widened in shock. It wasn't unheard of, but it didn't happen often enough for her not to be stunned every time.

"Enough of your backtalk. You don't even let me finish. I do everything for you, for your baby sister, for your older brother—the one you should try to be more like. And all you give me in return is more work, more headaches. You can't behave at home or outside it. What did I ever do to you, Sophia? What did I do to deserve this?"

"Nothing. Can I go to my room?"

"Oh, wow. Asking for permission now. How new coming from you. Fine, go. Get out of my sight."

Sophia took a step forward, heading upstairs to her room. She couldn't ignore how drunk her mother was. Maybe she'd regret this tomorrow. Maybe not. Sophia wouldn't be surprised either way. But for now, she was left alone, allowed to retreat to bed without another word. Well…

"She's going to be the death of me. That ungrateful brat's going to kill me one of these days."

Almost none. Sophia collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes. It was too hot for covers, and even without them, she knew she wouldn't be comfortable—no position, no amount of clothing would help. Wasn't worth trying.

She fought to keep her composure. She was used to this. No need to overreact. She'd get through it like she always did. Just needed time, a clear head. So she'd try to sleep, even if just a little. Couldn't even think straight when she was this exhausted.

—

Lucy had collapsed on the couch and was now dead to the world. The hangover she'd have when she woke up would be legendary. Maybe she didn't drink often, but when she did, she went hard.

Something told Loki this was even worse than usual. No way to prove it, but whatever. She'd be out cold long enough for her to do what she needed.

Loki shifted, taking Lucy's form—a perfect copy, head to toe.

Now, Sophia would learn what real vengeance felt like. What happened when Loki took things personally.

Chapter Text

Loki took a deep breath, approaching the stairs and looking up towards Sophia's room. Her transformation into Lucy was perfect, from physical appearance to voice, like all her previous transformations. She had never made the slightest mistake, nor was she going to make one now. It was her power; she could trust it just as she trusted that when her brain sent the command, her arms and legs would move. She was just nervous, but she had to overcome it, push it aside.

She climbed the stairs step by step, wondering what exactly she would say if she woke the little sister or the older brother. But apparently, she wouldn't have to. Loki stopped in front of Sophia's door, reached a hand towards the knob.

Until now, her plans had been essentially infallible, risk-free, but this could go wrong in so many ways. That's why she was so nervous. It was important to recognize the source to fight against it. Irrational feelings against which there was no defense were the truly bad thing, yes, irrational. Like, for example, what would her mother think if she could see her now? Shame. Immediately, she felt a knot of shame in her stomach, deep and black, which was more than enough of a clue.

Mom had always been a kind woman with strong principles. She had always done everything possible to do the right thing, to leave the world a little better than it was before she was born. She was one of those few truly good people, and Loki would be proud to be like her, but it was too late now, wasn't it? She had crossed the line long ago, and there was no turning back.

She couldn't regret it at this point. No, it was impossible in general.

Sophia, Emma, Madison, all those rats had to pay, right?

But... would Annette approve?

Lost in thought, she suddenly remembered an anecdote. Annette had told her, being, of course, no more than a brat, because the world had snatched her mother away too soon. She had told her about another professor at the university, a middle-aged man who was going bald.

Not just another professor, the head of the department, although who exactly he was didn't matter, nor did his ridiculous hairstyle. She had told her he had ended up like that, that she should see it from his perspective, that he had ended up like that, losing his hair little by little, before realizing it. And nobody dared to mention it so as not to hurt his feelings. Of course, that had been an explanation for a child, because Annette wasn't going to tell her: he's the fucking head of the department, nobody would dare mock his hairstyle. Not with their job on the line. Anyway, the point is that Taylor herself had encouraged her to be the one to open his eyes, to rip off the band-aid, and in the end, the man thanked her mother and got a new hairstyle. She might have hurt that man's feelings, but ultimately, she had been the only person truly willing to help him.

She had done well.

Wasn't this the same thing, after all?

Sophia could keep pretending to be a star student-athlete in the mornings and a superheroine in the afternoons, and everyone would be happy. Everything running smoother, without interruptions. People liked to buy pretty lies, but however funny it might seem coming from her, wasn't it better to stop lying, wasn't it better to rip off the band-aid and expose the lies to the light, even if she had to take a risk? To be the only one willing to do what everyone knew needed to be done?

Yes, yes, exactly like that. Loki opened the door, closing it behind her, throwing the bolt. Then she approached Sophia's bed where she slept peacefully, as if she hadn't done a single bad thing to anyone in her life, while Loki herself struggled to fall asleep every night. For a moment, she saw herself with her hands on her neck, squeezing, trying to snap it like a dry branch. Instead, she grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her awake.

"What now?" Sophia mumbled with half-closed eyes, shifting amidst the sheets that enveloped her like a cocoon.

"Wake up!"

"Are you crazy?"

Loki slapped her across the face without hesitation, quite the opposite, with great pleasure. Sophia gasped, her eyes snapped open, the drowsiness vanishing instantly.

"Don't talk to your mother like that, you ungrateful bitch. I thought about leaving you alone, letting you hide in this room again, unwilling to tell me anything or to change, but I've had enough. Now you're going to listen to me."

"I'm listening," Sophia murmured, clearly making great efforts to suppress her natural instinct, violence.

She supposed even that damned bitch was a mommy's girl deep down. But that didn't stop her from using Emma to destroy me. Information about me, about my mother, when the wound was still bleeding and red hot. She felt a brief spark of doubt, but frowned, clenching her teeth. Taylor clenched her teeth. She had brought this on herself, she deserved it.

"What's the excuse for all your bad behavior? That I'm not mother of the year, that sometimes I drink and slap you?" She made sure to say it in a tone that practically screamed: maybe you turned out this way because I didn't slap you enough growing up.

"Maybe," Sophia replied, and that made Loki smile, although it obviously wasn't an answer to her thoughts.

"You know perfectly well that you started this. And why? Because of Steven. I almost wish he had touched you or something, so at least you'd have good reasons to be such a fucking disaster."

"Mom," soft, almost inaudible, she sounded like she was going to cry.

"Or am I wrong? Did you want him to fuck you? A bit of an Electra complex. Huh? Is that it?"

Sophia shot up with clenched fists, but to Loki's surprise and disappointment, she didn't try to punch her. Taylor would have let herself be hit. She was used to being pushed and hit and many other things. At least now it would be worth it.

"Don't get cocky with me, brat. I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it." A cliché, but well, clichés existed for a reason. She was having fun with this. Writing the story that suited her best.

"Stop," Sophia said with a trembling voice. Was it pain or rage? Did it matter? Of course not. "You're drunk."

"I am. That's why I dare to say things I wouldn't say sober. We both know I'm telling you what I think. And it's true, isn't it?"

Sophia pushed her. Loki staggered back a few steps.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Get out!"

There it was, pushing her and insulting her had given Loki the perfect excuse to go a step further, because she was furious and "drunk." Loki slapped her again, and this time it had enough force to knock her to the floor. She retained greater than normal human strength in this form, but she hadn't used much of it; it was just that Sophia hadn't expected it, hadn't braced for the blow. That was all.

Loki threw herself on top of her, straddling her. Her hands found Sophia's neck, while Sophia resisted uselessly, pulling, elbowing, and kneeing.

"Who do you think you are to talk to me like that, to give me orders?" she began to squeeze. "I gave you life, your education, even your powers, which you're so proud of, which you think let you do whatever you want. Even that, in part, was because of me. What do you have, Sophia? What do you have that's truly yours? Really? You have nothing, you are nobody. I should have aborted you."

At first, the role of a hysteric, completely out of control, but as she spoke, she softened her voice. By the last sentence, it had become almost inaudible. But undoubtedly, Sophia heard it like a shotgun blast in the small room.

And Loki got the reaction she had expected, desired. Sophia could have easily used her powers to escape the grip, becoming intangible for instance, and achieved a similar effect. But Sophia didn't do that. She went a step further, slid her arm under the bed, and pulled out the crossbow she carried when she went around lurking in the shadows, thinking herself some kind of heroine, believing herself the only sane person on the planet. The only one who understood how things were. Also believing that was justification enough for her actions. Haha.

Sophia aimed and fired.

Taylor gritted her teeth, the jolt of pain reaching her fingertips. She had shot her in the shoulder, not the neck, not the heart. She hadn't tried to kill her, but it didn't matter. She had hurt her, that's what mattered. She staggered back, loosening her grip. On purpose. Fuck, how it hurt. For a moment, the disguise was about to unravel, ruining the whole plan, because of the pain. She hadn't known that would make it harder to maintain another form, it hadn't even crossed her mind. She should have tested it, but luckily it was okay. If Sophia saw her mother's face contort in unnatural ways before returning to normal, she surely attributed it to the fear, rage, or pain caused by the shot. Nor had they been drastic movements that screamed: this thing isn't your mother, haha.

Sophia got up, panting heavily, the crossbow still raised.

"Are you going to kill me? Go ahead, you ruined my life from the moment you came into the world anyway."

Sophia frowned, and for a moment Loki thought she would actually try it, but then she dropped the crossbow, turned around, and escaped into the night through the window. Back to the shadows she was destined to lurk in since birth because the game was rigged.

So what if Sophia had a shitty life? She had made her own choices; life hadn't forced her to do anything. If the Wards knew what Loki was doing, if even her own father knew, they wouldn't shake her hand, they wouldn't smile, they wouldn't congratulate her. Loki was well aware of that, but she took responsibility for her own decisions. She didn't look away, didn't flee into the shadows.

Taylor left the room, pretending to stagger. There was no audience, but well, it didn't hurt. In some room of the house, she heard Sophia's little sister crying; she assumed she had heard the commotion. Taylor didn't bother to quiet her, to comfort her. She was worried about the older brother, but he didn't show his face. Where the hell was he? Maybe elsewhere, maybe out of town, maybe even working. She highly doubted Lucy was the only one who worked too much.

Taylor returned to the living room where the real Lucy remained, still sleeping it off. And then Loki pulled the bolt from her shoulder and stabbed the woman in the same shoulder. The real Lucy woke up with a jolt, gasping in pain, writhing. But by then Loki was gone, vanished. As had her blood, which had never been real in the first place. Of course, the tip of the bolt hadn't actually penetrated her, so neither the Protectorate nor the police would find evidence that things weren't as they seemed. And Lucy, between the rage she felt for her daughter, the sadness, the exhaustion, and the alcohol, would convince herself that it made sense. She didn't remember it, but she could have done it. She had gone too far, being so drunk she didn't remember, nothing more.

That would be the official story, the truth now and forever. Because only she knew a different story. And she was like the storyteller of this little piece of reality. Truth and lies were what she decided.

The serpent smiled, returning to its den.

Chapter Text

YESTERDAY

"Come in," Armsmaster said.

So Loki entered. The big boss's office looked like an office, that was it. It didn't need to be anything special.

Anyway, the only thing on Taylor's mind was the reason. Because, of course, she had received the call, but nobody had told her why the hell she had earned a one-on-one with Colin.

She had admired him once. Right now, he wasn't exactly her favorite person to spend time with, to say the least.

"Take a seat," Armsmaster continued, looking at the monitors more than at her and acting important, although it was clear that he was. "This isn't some kind of interrogation. You can relax."

Wow, Taylor thought as she obeyed. It's like you read my mind. The problem is, I'm not sure I can trust you.

"So, why did you call me here?" she asked, getting straight to the point. Whatever the answer was, it wasn't worth acting any other way.

"I wanted to ask for your advice," he said, leaning forward, his hands clasped in a way that covered his mouth.

"Seriously?" Loki raised an eyebrow. He sounded like he was telling the truth and everything, but still, she couldn't believe him. Still, or perhaps precisely because of that, in any case. "I'm flattered. I used to have underpants with your emblem, you know? Not panties, they never made panties like that, of course."

"Yes, I know," Armsmaster said very slowly, making it clear, first, that he wasn't crazy enough for that little piece of marketing genius to have been his idea, and second, that if he had a genie and a lamp, the first thing he would do would be to wipe that article of clothing off the face of the earth, then give himself a promotion for the good of his ego and to be the one who vetoed decisions like that. "Anyway, this is about Sophia."

It wasn't the most subtle way to change the subject, but he had captured her attention.

"You're the only member of the Wards who went to class with her, after all."

"Okay. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, boss…"

"Armsmaster or Colin is fine."

"But I don't think I have anything to say about it. We didn't spend time together."

"But you did see each other, didn't you? Many of the same classes, it's in your records. It's not hard to find out that kind of thing."

"I saw her, yes. I saw a lot of people. At Winslow, most of them unpleasant."

A little honesty didn't hurt now and then, right?

"Anyway, I suppose I've been putting up with her longer than the Protectorate has, but I don't think I can tell you anything you don't already know."

"Tell me anyway."

That sounded like an order. Well, Colin probably thought everything that came out of his mouth was or should be an order.

"Well, she's my teammate and we should get along, for the good of the team. But she's a bitch, excuse my language. She does everything possible to annoy anyone, as if she has nothing better to do. Although I suppose many teenagers are the same."

"Did you have bad experiences with her, then?"

"Sure. Who didn't?"

She didn't want the fun to end too soon, but denying it wouldn't do her any good. She was sure the others had complained about Sophia often enough. That they complained at least a couple of times a week. But since they had nothing that broke the terms of her probation, well, they were forced to indulge the bitch, letting her get away with so many things.

Ever since she was very young, as someone born in Brockton Bay, she had wondered why her hometown was such a fucking disaster. But ever since she found out Sophia was a member of the Wards, she had her answer. How could it not be a fucking disaster, if they thought so much before delivering justice? Justice had to be swift and harsh. It was one of the simplest things. Sophia should have left the team long ago.

"That's true," Armsmaster admitted. "Do you think she's a lost cause? That she does more harm than good?"

What a strange question. He suspected her, didn't he?

"Does she cause more harm than good? I don't know about that. I think the key question, what you really want to know, is whether I want her here in the Wards or not. And no, I don't want her. I'd rather not have to put up with her. I don't think I've ever been subtle about it. Not as direct as Sophia, but not subtle either, sir. But if I have to put up with her, I will. I'm not like her. And I should have bigger concerns as a superheroine than a feud with a brat."

Armsmaster nodded slowly. He seemed unsure how to interpret that exactly.

"So, do you think Sophia is beyond help?"

Another question, and another, and another. He was never going to shut up.

"I suppose people can change, if they want to. But I'm not sure Sophia is willing to do her part."

Armsmaster nodded again, as if it weren't the most obvious thing in the world.

"Alright. You can go."

Loki raised an eyebrow, the other one this time for a change.

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Can I ask you a question? Just one. I won't take up much of your time."

"Okay. It's my job, after all. Shoot. Though I can't promise an answer. That depends on the question."

"Any idea why Empire 88 hasn't gotten involved in the war for the Docks yet?"

It wasn't Loki's priority at all. In fact, it couldn't be further from her real goal. But she was curious.

Curiosity killed the cat, she thought, but satisfaction brought it back.

"I wasn't expecting a change of topic. Okay," Armsmaster said. "That's very simple, Taylor. I can't read the minds of the Empire folks, naturally. But Kaiser is anything but a stupid man, unfortunately. Here's what I think is happening: they're simply waiting."

"For what?"

"For a victor to emerge, of course. One weakened by the fight that they can crush in a single blow. And thus seize control, without barely having to lift a finger."

"Oh," Loki said. "Oh. I should have thought of that."

"However smart you are, there are things that only occur to you with the benefit of experience. And being able to look back."

It was actually something very simple. Colin was exaggerating. It wasn't like it was a brilliant idea. She should have thought of it sooner, with or without experience. But it was also devilishly interesting.

The pieces were coming together at great speed. Every good idea was a fascinating puzzle.

—

Dean didn't know what to think.

He had told Armsmaster almost everything.

It wasn't fair, but he had focused on his suspicions about Taylor.

Someone had to do something about it, and because of his power, Dean had the feeling he was the only one who could, but he didn't have answers. He read emotions, not thoughts. The rest was deduction, and that wasn't enough.

Therefore, he left everything in Armsmaster's hands. He would know what to do, right? What would be right. If he couldn't trust Colin, who else could he trust?

He certainly didn't trust himself. He had hinted at things about Amy. Played with a very serious and very real problem, turning it into bait. He had sincerely thought Taylor would cross the line, revealing herself, leaving some trace. But he supposed she had resisted the temptation, or she wasn't the kind of person he feared she was, which would make him very happy.

In any case, the point is that this was too much for him. He didn't want to suspect anyone and didn't think he was capable of making decisions that would affect the future of Sophia, Taylor, and many other people. The same went for the problem with Amy, he simply didn't feel capable. He just wanted things to turn out well, that's why he had become a hero.

But it seemed like too much to ask.

Still, this problem with Sophia and Taylor… Even if he was right, it was nothing compared to what could happen with Amy one of these days, considering how close she was to a mental breakdown. He had no idea what to do, so he had left that to Armsmaster. But Amy, he couldn't leave her to anyone. He had to do something, the sooner the better.

He wished things were simpler. He didn't want to be someone admired and respected, but he also didn't want people to be ashamed of him, for people to have good reasons to be. Not to mention himself, he had a very thin line to walk.

—

TODAY

People always tried to escape the consequences of their actions, but some were better at it than others. For example, Sophia was not good at it at all.

She simply showed up at the Protectorate building the next day, a few hours after the disaster. Some people would protest: What are you saying? That's the opposite of running away. But those people would be very short-sighted.

Loki had no doubt. Sophia was here because she believed it was the best thing she could do. If she thought running away would do her any good, that they wouldn't find her immediately, they wouldn't have seen a hair of her.

They were surrounded by the Wards, without exception. Not even Gallant. Now that he was back, he was here to stay, at least until something happened with Amy again.

The truth is, Taylor wasn't very interested in what happened with that girl anymore. It wasn't her business.

In any case, Taylor didn't act surprised. She had to hide like a snake in the grass. No one was supposed to know the truth. Nobody. Armsmaster and the others hadn't bothered to inform them.

"Is something wrong, Sophia?" Carlos approached, putting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her forward with him.

He indicated for her to take a seat, and Sophia obeyed without protest.

"Can I get you something? A soda? Water? Coffee? You don't look well."

Sophia shook her head. As always, lately, she avoided looking at her. Nothing had changed. It couldn't, because she didn't even suspect that what happened last night had anything to do with her.

"It's true," said Dennis. "Sophia, I know we've always had our differences. But if something's wrong, if we can help…"

"We're a team after all," said Vista.

"Yeah, that."

Gallant was staring intently at Sophia. He saw her bite her lip. And Loki wondered what it must be like to feel others' emotions. All day, every day, the good and the bad. A sea of feelings that you naturally couldn't stop with your hands.

Sophia's life was completely falling apart. Loki wished she had Gallant's power, to feel that pain too. Her rage, her humiliation, her despair. Every delicious flavor of pain.

Taylor bit the inside of her cheek to keep her lips from curling into a smile. She couldn't screw up. She couldn't afford to screw up with Gallant in the room, even if he was distracted now. Therefore, it was best not to attract attention. But if she didn't speak, if she didn't participate, that would also look weird.

"Vista is right," Taylor said. "We're a team."

Sophia snapped her head up, like a whip. Her widened eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as she looked at her.

"Look, I know you've always made my life harder, but… if something has happened, you can count on me too."

"Ah. Really, Taylor?"

"Yes, unlike you, I've always been willing to put our differences aside. I'm not the kind of person who, for example, would rub salt in the wound when it comes to really serious things. I don't know, for example, the death of a mother."

She was going a bit too far, wasn't she? She was going a bit too far. But it was just so delicious, she couldn't resist.

"You…" But Sophia didn't manage to say anything. She fell silent, shaking her head.

Taylor noticed Missy's sideways glance. No wonder she was shocked and had caught on. She knew more than the others. She and Gallant.

"Trust us," said Kid Win, extending a hand to touch the girl's shoulder, squeezing. That comforting gesture was visibly an effort for him. He looked very uncomfortable, but he did it anyway.

She doesn't deserve any fucking support, Loki thought. Not a single fucking shred of compassion. But she had to control the anger, or Gallant would notice. She could excuse some anger, if he questioned her. But beyond a certain point, even she couldn't come up with a good enough excuse.

That pathetic spectacle didn't go any further. One of the doors slid open. Loki looked up, expecting to see Colin. But no, it was Miss Militia. Hanna.

"Shadow Stalker, I'm surprised you came here so casually. But it's better than the alternative."

Miss Militia ignored him, crossing her arms, her gaze fixed on Sophia. Who remained pathetically hunched over. Not looking at the newcomer, not looking at anyone in particular. As if believing she could simply disappear, if she wished hard enough.

"First thing this morning we received a report. Parahuman crime. A woman injured by a very familiar crossbow bolt. Do you have anything to say in your defense, Shadow Stalker? Anything to justify attacking your own mother."

Many pairs of eyes widened. Loki's included, of course. Although she wasn't surprised at all that Sophia was capable of it. Okay, she had provoked her into acting, but Sophia had fired believing it was her mother. She hadn't suspected for a moment that it was her under the disguise.

"Her mother?"

"Seriously?"

"It takes some nerve to do that to a mother."

Several voices rose, mingling. The pathetic spectacle of compassion was shattered in an instant. It was very shocking information after all.

"Shadow Stalker. I asked you a question."

Sophia slowly raised her head, looking at Miss Militia. She opened her mouth to say whatever it was. Probably some cheap excuse, but in the end, she couldn't. She swallowed hard, and her words too. She couldn't handle the pressure.

She had always laughed at her, surely. Considering her nothing more than weak prey to be trampled on. But when it was her turn to be in her place, she couldn't live up to her words. It had been proven just how much of a predator Sophia Hess was. She was nothing more than prey. Her prey.

But she should probably stop thinking about that. It was getting harder and harder to suppress the smile.

Sophia's response, cheap excuse or not, was postponed for a few moments, as Colin also made an appearance and reacted similarly. That is, he made a strange face (judging by the only half of his face visible, anyway) and said:

"I'm surprised you came here so casually. But at least you had the sense not to run, not to complicate things. You can consider your probation terminated, naturally."

Sophia looked away, weak, meek.

"The trial will take place soon. You will spend the next three years in a facility for parahumans. The years you should have spent in the Wards, if you had known how to control yourself. You have disappointed me, Shadow Stalker."

Armsmaster made a move to approach her.

And then, Taylor stepped in between. To everyone's surprise.

Everyone except her, just the way Loki liked it.

"Wait, wait."

Chapter Text

She thought she would start, goddammit, like she was supposed to.

But in the end, Sophia deflated. She took a deep breath, sighed deeply, as if surrendering. This girl was great at pissing her off, doing exactly what she wasn't supposed to do.

What the hell was going on in her fucking head? This was her moment to defend herself, not bite her tongue.

Taylor had done everything possible to corner her, but it made no sense that this would lead to her being unwilling to explain herself, to at least try to mitigate the sentence she faced.

What are you doing? Loki thought. It's too late to pretend to be a good little girl, mommy's darling. You shot her with a fucking crossbow.

Now she couldn't turn around and pretend she wanted to cover for her mommy, that she didn't hate her just as much as Lucy hated her daughter. There was no doubt, so she should just break already. Now, before her patience ran out.

"Sophia," Carlos said, "this might be your last chance."

Sophia didn't look at him, but then she began to speak.

"She started strangling me, so I defended myself. But it's true, I shot her."

"That's no excuse," Miss Militia said, crossing her arms. "Not just because it was her mother, your own mother, but because you have powers that let you shift into shadow form and slip away. Nothing forced you to try and kill her."

"No," Sophia replied quickly. "I shot her, but I didn't mean to, it wasn't attempted murder."

Sure thing, Taylor thought, but it doesn't matter.

"That's true," Armsmaster said, "but it doesn't change my decision. It doesn't change what needs to be done."

None of the other Wards knew how to react, either to what was happening before their eyes or to the revelation of what had occurred to make Sophia fall from her tightrope. She supposed most people couldn't imagine what it was like to have a parent turn on you, become someone to fear.

Loki couldn't understand it either, truth be told, though she didn't give a shit.

"Hold on a second." Loki put a hand on Sophia's shoulder, squeezing, but she looked at Armsmaster. "Wait, I know Sophia's a lot of trouble. I know we've never gotten along. Frankly, I thought I'd be happy when I heard she was off the team. But this thing with her mother... Come on, she tried to strangle her. Okay, she shot her, but who would react with a cool head? We're talking about her own mother."

Taylor felt dirty speaking up for Sophia. She was going to have to get in the shower as soon as she got home and scrub herself with a sponge until her skin was raw. But she had no choice. This was for him. So she would do it. Loki was a machine with a single function.

"That's true," Clockblocker said.

"I can't even imagine it," Kid Win said.

"I don't know what I'd do," Vista said.

"It wouldn't be the first time we've turned a blind eye, here and there. But that's precisely why this has to stop," Armsmaster said. "At some point, it has to stop. Otherwise, someone pays with their life."

"It's commendable of you all to try and defend a teammate," Miss Militia said. "But you have to know the difference between a teammate and a liability, I'm afraid."

Sophia reacted as if the words were a slap, and she almost smiled. It was getting harder and harder to suppress her real feelings.

You didn't bother mentioning your mommy was drunk when she strangled you. Taylor wondered if that was an attempt to look better, or if she was just ashamed of her drunk mother and didn't want to air that specific piece of dirty laundry. She figured it was the latter, figured it didn't matter anyway. The important thing was Sophia was getting exactly what she deserved, no more, no less.

"Why are you trying to defend me?" Sophia asked, her voice barely audible.

Taylor didn't turn around.

"Because I'm not like you. Never have been. But then, my mother loved me. Suppose I understand you a little better now."

Your mother's a saint who works herself to death, Taylor thought. Sure she gets angry, but you do everything possible to ruin her efforts, the easiest job in the world, and you can't control yourself, can't act like a fucking normal person. Yeah, sure I understand you better. I understand you're a piece of shit. I understand you're even worse than I thought.

Taylor clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

"Taylor, I..." Sophia swallowed hard.

"What?"

You wouldn't dare, she thought. You wouldn't have the fucking gall to dare...

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry for everything I did to you."

"What are you referring to?" Armsmaster asked.

The Wards began to murmur, exchanging speculations. All except Vista and Gallant, naturally, who already knew more than enough.

Sophia got up from the sofa.

"A lot of things. I bullied her in high school, at Winslow. I did all kinds of things to her, but let's cut to the chase. She has powers because of me."

"Now a lot of things make sense," Armsmaster said.

"Seriously, fuck? You caused her Trigger Event?" Clockblocker said. He shook his head, as if he were about to say something but decided against it. Because it wouldn't be worth it. Wouldn't do any good.

Browbeat whistled, grimaced, and looked away. He must have felt terribly out of place, while also knowing he couldn't just leave.

Vista had a strange expression on her face. As if she didn't know what to think, now that Sophia had laid all her cards on the table, even though she'd known the truth for weeks. And Gallant's gaze kept shifting between Sophia and Taylor. Loki wondered what was going through his head.

"Curious way to defend yourself, Shadow Stalker," Miss Militia said.

Shadow Stalker shook her head as if taking it as more than just a sarcastic remark.

"No, I didn't... What I mean is, I deserve this, I guess. I don't know what I've been doing, I don't know what to do."

God, Loki thought. You're good, you're really fucking good at playing the victim. Is this what it takes to be a popular girl, a normal person? Such theatrics. You're so good it makes me want to puke.

"At least we agree on something," Armsmaster said, stepping closer and putting a hand on Sophia's shoulder. "The show's over. We shouldn't have done this whole thing in front of the other Wards to begin with."

"Sir," Aegis started, "what's happening?"

"Nothing, forget it." Carlos shook his head. "Let's go, Sophia."

"Can't I convince you to give her another chance?" Loki asked.

"Enough, you're lying," Armsmaster replied, as if there were no room for doubt.

Loki frowned thoughtfully, but it took her no time at all to formulate her next response.

"Of course I am. I'm forcing myself to say this, as much as I hate her."

True, undoubtedly true, through and through.

"And why is that?" Armsmaster demanded.

"Because..."

***

I can't believe it. Texting while driving. That's like the kind of thing that, okay yes, it's a tragedy, but we used to laugh about it.

Okay yes, swept away by the wave, but if she had a brain, she wouldn't go leaning against the railing taking pictures.

Okay yes, it's a tragedy, that poor kid killing himself, but who told him to jump between buildings? What is this damn parkour thing?

I can't believe it, Annette. I can't believe you did this to me, to Taylor. I can't believe it. You're one of the smartest people I know, maybe the smartest. So how could you be so stupid? God, God.

Banging, banging against the wall. The sound of chattering teeth.

***

"Because I at least had a mother who loved me," Taylor murmured, her voice barely audible, seeing through her surroundings as if she were somewhere else, far away.

Colin frowned.

"You're telling the truth," he murmured. Then he looked away, thoughtful. "I'm afraid that doesn't change anything, though. What's done is done, and actions must have consequences. Miss Militia, Sophia, let's go."

Avoiding calling her Shadow Stalker, because she wouldn't be a Ward anymore. Right.

They left, and instantly, the Wards surrounded her. Touching her shoulders, squeezing them, rubbing her back. Suddenly she was surrounded by smiles meant to be reassuring, she supposed. And Taylor didn't understand why.

"It's okay," Missy murmured. "It's okay, Taylor. At least you tried. Nobody can say you didn't try."

"You're good. You're a better person than I could ever be," Dennis said. "I can't believe you defended her, after she did... whatever she did to you."

"Yeah," Carlos said. "Don't feel guilty. You did enough."

"You did everything you could," Chris said. "That's the truth."

Gallant approached hesitantly, head bowed.

"I... I think I was wrong about you," Dean said. "I'm sorry."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dennis asked.

"Not now." Dean shook his head. "Not now, okay? It doesn't matter."

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" Taylor finally said, finding her voice. "Who says I feel guilty? Why are you all acting like...?"

Like I'm made of glass, she thought.

"Taylor... You're crying," Missy said.

True, she thought, it's true. Taylor touched a couple of fingers to her cheek, feeling the tears run down.

***

Having a friend was an incredible thing. For most people, "friendship" was just a word, naturally. People who were there for drinks and parties, for the good times, maybe. But not when it counted. When they really had to be friends.

Still, there were people lucky enough to have real friendships. One or two was the most you could hope for. And Taylor Hebert had certainly believed herself among those lucky people. Taylor would have done anything for Emma, anything. And back then, she believed Emma would have done the same for her.

No, she probably would have, but at some point, for some reason, something had changed.

Something had broken, with no going back, no chance of repair.

There was a hot summer day.

A day, messing around on Taylor's bed while watching some stupid movie she couldn't remember.

"It was my fault, Emma," Taylor said. Emma looked at her, then at the TV before grabbing the remote and turning it off. "It was my fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"Mom's accident..."

"No, no, don't say it was your fault. Don't talk nonsense, okay?"

"But it's true." Tears were already welling up; fighting them would have been impossible, even if she'd tried. Ashamed, she rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. "She was texting me while she was coming to get me. I didn't look at the phone enough... No, I answered and worried her, distracted her. I... you know? It's my fault."

"That's not true, Taylor, please." Emma hugged her tightly. "Don't be silly. Please don't think like that. Aunt Annette wouldn't want this. These things just happen. Nobody's fault."

She knew Emma had meant it to reassure her, but the idea actually shook her. So there was no reason for her mother's death? No particular reason, it just happened? Then what was stopping Dad from dying today or tomorrow? Or Emma? Or herself? Nothing protected her. Nothing. The world was chaos, and things just happened.

It could all end in an instant, yes.

Like the warm hug, and the soft words, and true friendship... it could all disappear in an instant. Nothing lasted forever, and there was no explanation at all.

***

I need control, Taylor thought, dragged from sleep by the sound of her alarm clock. Her hand shot out to turn it off. She got out of bed feeling like she wasn't really alive at all. No triumph, no satisfaction. Not yet, at least.

She went down for breakfast. Danny was there, looking at her, as usual, like he didn't know what to think or say, like he had to walk on eggshells around her. Which she hated, even if it was mostly her fault. Hated it.

"Morning," she said, sitting at the table.

"Morning. Something wrong, Taylor?"

"Uh, not really, just a little tired."

And I think I miss my friend, she thought, before burning the thought down and salting the earth.

"If they're pushing you too hard..." he started.

"No. I guess I'm pushing myself. It's a good distraction, you know."

"Right. You'll pace yourself, I hope?"

"Yeah, I know I need to."

Danny nodded.

"Good. I don't like the look on your face today. I was really happy, you know, seeing you getting better every day."

"And I am, Dad. I am. Don't worry, it'll pass."

And it did pass. By the time breakfast was over, Dad was already telling her she looked better. It wasn't even faked; she didn't have the energy yet to pretend, to put on any kind of mask

***

"I feel sick," Taylor said. Her legs were burning; she'd run harder and longer than usual today. She went to the water, holding onto the railing, and looked at herself in the surface.

For an instant, like some kind of optical illusion, her eyes burned green and her face twisted into something not human.

Just for an instant, a brief mirage.

***

"Are you going to be there for the trial?" Armsmaster asked.

"Sure. Why not? Not that it's needed. She already confessed. Or rather, didn't try to hide anything. There's no mystery."

"Rules, protocol, they're there for a reason. Good. I'll see you there, then."

Armsmaster stopped at the threshold, then turned back.

"Taylor?"

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

Chapter Text

Loki watched like a specter from one of the benches.

Sophia was answering for her crimes. The ones she didn't care about, not really, and the ones she did, the personal ones. She had even confessed about the locker incident.

But in reality, this didn't make her happy. She had stopped listening to her, the judge, and the lawyers a long time ago. For a long time, all the noise in the room wasn't even background noise, but something in a different world, as she sank deeper and deeper into her thoughts, which were themselves a different world.

She should feel happy, but she wasn't. She had won. No one could take that away from her, but did she really want to win like this? With Sophia acting repentant. With Sophia accepting her defeat gracefully, instead of breaking down. With Sophia pretending to be a victim.

No, of course not.

Her teeth chattered. But it was fine. No one was paying attention to her. No matter how strong her reactions were, that wouldn't change. She was part of the scenery, even for Armsmaster, who, of course, wasn't missing the show.

No, Loki decided. I don't want this. It's not going to end like this. It has to be my way.

Loki sighed and reached out her hands to the bench in front, gripping the wood. She didn't know how yet, but she wouldn't let things stay this way. She would have enough time to think of something, even though the case was more than closed. Even though Sophia didn't even want to fight. There was nothing but incessant chatter.

She had enough time; if she hadn't come up with anything by then, it wouldn't be a personal failing, but would simply mean there was no answer. She had done everything perfectly up to this point. Perhaps too well, and that was why she had ended up in this situation. But Loki still had time to fix even the error of her perfection. She just needed a little more time to get her thoughts in order.

She had to hurry because this was ending. She sensed it before the ringing in her ears, the indistinct voices, lost strength. Before she saw Sophia turn around and walk towards the door, head bowed, defeated, broken.

But it's not enough, Taylor thought. Do you really think I'm going to settle for this?

Perhaps what bothered her most was that Sophia didn't even know she was responsible for this. Although it had been part of her plan. Exactly what she had wanted. She had surely spoken to her mother at least once. Who naturally didn't remember the incident. But precisely because of that, no one would question it. Everyone would assume Lucy had simply been too drunk to remember. Shadow Stalker had seen it, and Lucy had a crossbow wound. What else could it be?

Yes, Sophia didn't even know it was her, the one she had always despised and looked down on. Or the one who had caused her life to crumble. And that bothered her, bothered her a lot. It had seemed like a good plan at the time, but this wasn't how the story was supposed to end.

***

Taylor was there. She had been there from the beginning, watching her from one of the benches. Just another face in the crowd.

Sophia wondered what was going through her head about recent events, about her in general. She couldn't tell. Even before all this, before the locker, Emma had been… She had read Taylor like an open book. To Sophia, she had simply always seemed unsettling. A sad sack of shit, walking empty through an empty life. Something that bothered you just by looking at it.

But, despite everything that had changed, that hadn't. She had no idea what it was saying, what that expression conveyed. She supposed it didn't matter. She didn't want to see it, didn't want to be judged. Not by Taylor, not by herself. She just wanted to rest and think and find her center. Or some shit like that. Because it was clear she wasn't a predator. If she ever was. Just a miserable prey. Prey mostly to herself. She had brought it on herself.

Sophia was heading towards the door. But her gaze remained fixed on Taylor, or Loki, or whatever she preferred to be called. She had made her life impossible, for no reason. Like Mom, Sophia thought. Only, causing her mother pain and disappointment wasn't something that surprised her. It was part of her life.

Perhaps she should have… She saw a dark alley. Nights and some thugs who were about to… No, but it was too late to wonder what might have been. What's done is done. What's done will be done. At least, that's how she thought.

So deeply lost in her thoughts that she didn't see Taylor step into her path. That must have been it, because now her seat was empty. She could see it out of the corner of her eye. She had gotten distracted. She couldn't have gotten here in a tenth of a second.

"Taylor…" she murmured. "What are you…?"

But she couldn't finish the sentence. Because then, the serpent smiled from ear to ear.

"I did it," Loki said. "Not your mother. Me. I provoked you, strangled you. I stuck the crossbow bolt in her fucking shoulder."

"What are you…?" Sophia fell silent. Terrified.

"It was me. It always was. You were right. But now it's too late."

Taylor laughed. To her ears, it sounded as loud as a shotgun blast. How was it possible that no one heard her? That no one was paying attention to their conversation?

As for Sophia. Well, she… Something inside her broke in two, and before she knew it, she was on the floor with her hands around that slimy bitch's neck.

I knew it, she thought. I knew it. I knew it. And why should I hold back my feelings?

"Give me back my life, you bitch!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Give it back!"

Sophia. Sophia. With all her strength, she knew perfectly well how to strangle someone to knock them out or kill them if necessary. She had done it countless times. However, it didn't seem to have any effect. That smile didn't fade. On the contrary, it grew wider. As if she felt no pain at all. As if she wasn't lacking oxygen.

Then, hands came, grabbing her arms and legs, pulling her back, subduing her. Sophia screamed wildly, struggling against the hands that gripped her, even knowing it was useless. At least not without transforming into her shadow state. They dug in too hard.

But then she stopped suddenly, because Loki was no longer lying on the floor, smiling from ear to ear while she had to be helped up. Loki was in the seat, from where she had seen everything. And apparently, she hadn't left it.

Apparently… what? Am I going crazy? she thought. Stark raving mad. Maybe, maybe I've reached a breaking point. Whatever the answer, Sophia deflated. She never thought she'd say this, but she didn't have the energy to keep fighting, not anymore. She simply felt exhausted.

Another nail in my coffin, she thought. But not entirely. At least it meant she hadn't thrown Taylor to the ground, hadn't hit and strangled her in front of everyone. Even if she had looked like a madwoman, completely unhinged, at least she hadn't crossed the line publicly. And she, Taylor… no, Loki hadn't said those things to her, coming out into the open again.

She was still Taylor, the one who had offered her a hand and words of sympathy when she needed them most, despite everything she had done to her, everything she had caused.

It could have been much worse, right?

She was already condemned to spend the next three years locked up, restricted, watched. Her mother would never look at her the same way for the rest of her life, not to mention her siblings. So she had to be thankful it hadn't been worse.

***

Missy let her lean on her, helped her sit back down on a bench.

"Here, Taylor."

She blew her nose and, naturally, more blood came out than mucus.

While strangling her, Sophia had elbowed her, messing up her nose, probably without even meaning to, without realizing. It didn't matter. Taylor took a deep breath.

A very small price to pay.

The blood added spice.

Surely the image of Sophia, hands on her neck with her wild, crazy screams, was enough. But blood always made violence stand out much more, violence and madness.

Loki bit her lower lip.

"She's completely out of her mind," Missy said, shaking her head. "She's always been a nuisance, and I came to hate her, but now I feel sorry for her. I'm sure it's not just trauma. Something's not right with her. She's mentally ill. And after you tell her that when she finishes her sentence you two can start over, maybe even become friends someday. After you've extended a hand to her, time and time again." Missy shook her head again. "Nothing beats mental health, I guess. When heads start to fail, it's over."

Loki crumpled the blood-soaked handkerchief in her fist.

"Yeah, I feel a bit sorry for her too."

Was it true? No, of course not.

It wouldn't make sense.

Loki bit her tongue until she could taste her own blood in her mouth. Naturally, that was to keep from bursting out laughing. She loved it when plans came together, and who the fuck didn't? It was a stupid cliché. But the fact was, she was euphoric, she was.

Right?

It was all over; the outcome had been predicted from the start. The outcome of this trial, and also of her conflict with Sophia in general. There had never been a real obstacle to prevent her from getting her way. And why would there be such a thing? The world was chaos, an illusion, smoke and mirrors.

But Taylor wasn't entirely cynical, after all. Justice was on her side, and despite the blows life had dealt her, Taylor still believed that was worth something, that it meant something. She truly believed it.

She had a perfect victory, she did.

Before leaving the building, she went to the bathroom. She only met Armsmaster's gaze on the way, but barely paid him any attention.

Loki washed her face, slicked her hair back with wet fingers, with wet hands. But when she looked down, when she stood right in front of the mirror, she saw someone who wasn't her.

"Mo… Mom?" Her voice trembled.

Indeed, her reflection had transformed into her mom's. Before she realized it, Taylor closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them, concentrating. But it was still there, that thing was still where it was, not moving a fucking inch.

"What's happening here?" Taylor murmured.

The reflection didn't mimic her movements; it was someone else's reflection, after all. Taylor brought a hand to her face, her face, as if to check that nothing had changed, and it hadn't, thankfully. This doesn't make sense, it doesn't work like this, it doesn't work like this. But the facts were worth more than what she had believed until now; there was no comparison, naturally.

"What are you looking at?"

The reflection's expression, so to speak, was empty, impossible to read.

"Say something! Come on! Say it!"

But Annette Rose Herbert's reflection remained silent.

Of course, because it was nothing more than an illusion. Because she was dead. She had been dead for years and years. But she remembered her perfectly. It would still take a few more years for her to become just a memory. Now, before her eyes, she almost seemed alive. Her hair, her eyes, and surely, her voice, if only she would speak to her, say anything. Not reproaches or praise; surely it would be just as she remembered.

It felt like she could reach out and touch her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It was like seeing a damn ghost.

It was just an illusion. It wasn't real. But then, what was it? What was it? Because she wasn't doing this, was she? How could something happen without her controlling it? It wouldn't make sense.

It didn't work like that. Damn it.

Mom just looked at her from the mirror, without blinking. Just looked.

"What do you mean by this?" Taylor murmured. "That you're disappointed? That you expected more from me?" She wanted to bite her lower lip, hard. "I already know that. But I only did what was necessary to keep living peacefully. I just gave her what she deserved. My mother, my real mother, would understand me. You're just a ghost. A ghost. You're not even a ghost. You're a mirage. You have no power over me."

And that was true. But she hated the way she looked at her. Hated it.

So Taylor punched the mirror, shattering it, making the image split into dozens of pieces, cut by fine, web-like cracks. But it didn't disappear.

That was the thing. It didn't disappear.

Another punch. Another. And another.

Her knuckles ached. She was bleeding a little. But the fact was, on the third one, it finally disappeared. It left her alone.

At least for now.

***

I need control. She turned over, curling up even tighter in the sheets, putting the pillow over her head and pressing down, as if trying to silence a voiceless voice.

I need…

***

The next morning, when she came back from her run, Dad greeted her with a big smile.

"Taylor, I have a surprise for you."

He was very happy, too happy, as bad as that sounded.

"What are you talking about?"

"You just wait and see."

But even with that clue, although she was used to seeing ghosts lately, the truth didn't even cross her mind. She had to see it with her own eyes.

"Emma," she said.

Another unexpected visit.

A ghost from her past.

What was she doing here? Looking for trouble, of course. That was the only thing she knew how to do.

"Dad," Taylor said before Emma could open her damn mouth. "I'm sorry I lied to you for so long. Emma and I haven't spoken in a long time. That's because she's one of the harpies who bullied me at Winslow. Just like Sophia, she was the one who pushed me into the locker, probably. I didn't see her, but well, she was the star athlete after all."

I hadn't seen her. Everything had happened too fast, but she was the star athlete after all. Who else? I doubted Emma or Madison or Julia would get their hands dirty, so to speak. Not like that. Sophia was like the guard dog they could sic on people and make her get her hands dirty for them. Though there was no need. Sophia was more than willing to do all those physical things.

Of course, she was, she thought. She was, but not anymore. Now she's not going to do much of anything for a long, long time.

"Wait, what?" Dad said. "I can't… Get out of my fucking house, Emma."

"Mr. Hebert," Emma said.

"Get out right now."

However, Loki shook her head.

"Can you give us a moment alone? I want to hear what she has to say." Loki tilted her head. "I'm a bit curious. Besides, I'm not afraid of her anymore. You have nothing to worry about."

"Because you have powers," Emma said. "And now you think you're a big deal, apparently."

Emma looked at her as if expecting a particular reaction. Loki simply arched an eyebrow.

"Did you think I'd be surprised? Ever since I joined the Wards, I understood why you ruined our friendship. Come on, you were a little bitch and dropped your panties for the first superheroine you met. Metaphorically, not literally. Or maybe you did."

Emma flushed, equal parts rage and embarrassment.

"Go to hell."

Meanwhile, Danny had been heading for the exit. Hearing the insult, he spun around quickly, clenching his fists, visibly trying to control his anger and wondering why on earth he should. Taylor gestured for him to go on, to tell him it wasn't worth it and that she had everything under control. So he did.

"I'm afraid if you've come to get on your knees and beg me to be your partner, that ship sailed a long time ago," Loki said.

"I know what's happening with Sophia. I just want to know what you did to her."

"I know what's happening with Sophia. She has to wait for them to decide whether to put her in prison or a detention center or a psychiatric hospital. Yes, I'm not sure myself."

Emma gritted her teeth.

"What did you do to her?"

"Me? And why would I have to have done anything to her? Sophia was like a rabid dog, biting anyone. I know you're stupid, Emma, but you're not going to tell me you never realized what she's really like. Come on, just like you: no values, no loyalty. Why are you surprised she did this to herself? What the fuck are you surprised about? Don't tell me you didn't know the kind of things she did secretly, the lines she crossed. Don't tell me you're that stupid, Emma, because I'll just laugh."

"Now you've really learned to talk. It must be very nice to have powers, to have control."

Loki crossed her arms.

"Well, yes, it's pretty good."

"Sophia wasn't perfect," Emma said slowly, "but she was a fighter. She had what it took."

"Clearly not," Loki responded instantly. And then she smiled, because an image was beginning to form in her mind, through the broken pieces, from the broken pieces Emma had left behind. "And neither do you," she continued.

Emma reacted as if she had been slapped.

"You don't know anything about me."

"And I don't want to. I'm not interested in your excuses. Be content that I've allowed you to stay in my house for so long. You know perfectly well that I now have the power to throw you through a fucking wall, so I don't know why you come in here as if you could still do something to me, as if this were a damn school and I had to bite my tongue, lower my head, and endure. Tell me, Emma, what the fuck did you intend by coming here?"

Emma stood up. Surprisingly, she didn't look away; surprisingly for someone who was nothing more than a coward.

"It doesn't matter. I didn't expect you to tell me, but be very careful."

"Are you planning to reveal my identity?" Taylor asked. "Do you think you'd get away with that? And your father? Messing with the Protectorate? Is that what you want to do, little girl?"

Emma clenched her fists, digging her nails hard into her palms.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child."

"Then don't act like one." Loki laughed. "Though I suppose Daddy the lawyer must tell you that very often, right? Or are you the perfect little angel in front of him, Emma?"

Loki continued to laugh uncontrollably.

"You're the one who should be put in a psychiatric hospital," Emma spat.

"Look who's talking, for fuck's sake. Get out of here, eh! Get out of my sight! I have no interest in your threats or your excuses."

Emma turned around, heading for the exit.

"You should have chosen better, but it's too late now."

The bitch stopped, spinning on her heels.

"You deserved everything we did to you, Taylor. I made the decision I made because you left me no other choice. You were nothing but a sad loser, impossible to bear. I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life tied to a shadow, the shadow of what you once might have been. I had to…"

"Had to what?" Taylor demanded. "Because it hasn't gone too well for you. Besides, if that's true, why did Sophia apologize?"

"You're lying."

Loki crossed her arms, threw her head back, smiling from ear to ear. A cartoonish smile, almost.

"No, I'm not."

"You're lying. She wouldn't apologize."

"And yet, she did."

To her surprise, Emma lunged at her, fists first. Of course, she easily dodged the punch, but it was still a surprise.

"Well, well," Loki whistled. "Points for trying, I guess, even if it was pathetic."

"You're lying," Emma repeated.

"No. If that's what you prefer to believe. But one way or another, get out of my house. Now."

"She's… She's different."

"I think I get it now…" Loki said. "Not everything, everything, but more than enough. Even if I don't know what happened, you saw her as some kind of role model, didn't you? And what really bothers you is that it's broken. Because you're not friends. People like you and Sophia can't have friends. You're just looking for validation like a disgusting, repulsive loser."

Another attempt to punch her. Loki summoned her staff for a moment, tripping her.

"Is that the best you can come up with, with what's left between your ears, Emma?"

"Taylor!"

Loki twirled the staff in her hands a couple of times before making it disappear.

"Trying to attack me, the new Ward, with the powers you know I have? With the suspicions Sophia surely planted in your ears? Really, you're pathetic. I don't want your fucking germs on my floor. Get out of here."

Emma got up, rubbing her face, her forehead. Her teeth were chattering.

"You'll pay for this someday."

"Oh yeah? That would be the first time you do something for yourself, then."

Emma didn't answer. She just fucked off, finally.

She felt like throwing up.

Taylor closed the door, threw the bolt, and retraced her steps, collapsing onto the living room sofa. She threw her head back, staring at the ceiling. She sighed deeply. Dad soon returned, so she lowered her gaze again. He looked worried. Maybe he had been listening, maybe not. Either way, how could he not be worried, and for several reasons?

"Taylor, how many more things are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing else, I promise."

"I used to trust you blindly. Before I wouldn't even have felt the need to ask the question in the first place." Dad shrugged, leaning against the door, arms crossed.

Before Mom died, Taylor thought. Before Winslow, before the trio. Before, when you understood me, or thought you understood me, when I was a normal daughter.

You mean that, don't you?

But Taylor swallowed those unfair words.

"I understand why you doubt, but it's the truth. I don't want to lie to you, I never wanted that, but sometimes there's no other choice, right?"

"I guess."

"At least I need you to understand that everything I do or say is for our happiness. That's the only thing I have in mind. You know I'm telling you the truth, don't you?"

Dad took her hand, squeezing it, and patted it.

"It's true, I'm sorry."

Chapter Text

Sophia didn't know what to think. She crossed the threshold knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.

She looked around: sterile white walls, people who clearly weren't right in the head. You only had to look into their eyes, at the little light the pills hadn't snuffed out, of course.

This was her life now.

But she didn't know what to think, no. She was almost grateful. In part, she had confessed everything—well, almost everything. It was because she recognized it was time to give up and admit she wasn't okay. She had almost killed her mother; she'd come so close to hitting her neck instead of her shoulder. She hadn't thought, hadn't aimed, just reacted.

And then there was everything she had seen, everything she had believed… but today, of course, all of that… She had been so convinced Taylor was responsible. Seeking revenge, she had been from the start.

But she couldn't blame her for what happened with Mom, no. She could only blame herself for that, and to tell the truth, she wasn't even sure if the conversation between her and Taylor—well, her and Loki—in that hallway, confessing, had actually happened. She was no longer sure of… well, almost anything.

Had Taylor said anything to her when the trial ended, approaching to mock her? Probably not. Had she strangled her in front of everyone, while trying to kill her? Maybe, maybe not. She didn't even know. Her head was a mess.

I've been a mess for many years, Sophia told herself. Mom thought so, and deep down, I knew it too.

She thought of Stephen, thought of the suffocating panic. Feeling so, so small and insignificant. Her legs trembled, just like then. And it only had to do with that, with the ghosts of the past. Not with her recognizing that this place was the end of the line. Her life shattered, it couldn't be put back together. From now on, things could only go in one direction: down.

Anyway, what had her trembling was the memory of that moment. And why? Stephen wasn't here, and she was different now, strong? The predator, not the prey? Did she suppose she wouldn't get over it? Did she suppose something in her was irrevocably fucked? And that wasn't something a bottle of pills could cure? Nothing.

She was a lost cause, as her mother had always told her. A lost cause.

"You'll be fine here," the nurse was saying in her ear, a hand stroking her back. "It's not the end of the world, Sophia, and it doesn't mean you're crazy, either. Sometimes, everyone needs help. Sometimes the best thing is to take a step back, get away from the world, and put the pieces back together, understand? So don't act like this is the end. It's just another stop on the road, okay?"

Lost.

"But of course, you have to do your part too. You have to let us help you."

He was taking her towards her new room and… a jingle. It wasn't a new sound, but she hadn't really paid attention to it until now. Sophia lowered her head.

"Ah, yes, that. Look, I understand you're worried about the cuffs, but it's just a matter of protocol. We don't intend to electrocute you, or even give you the smallest shock. But they have to know there's a plan B, understand? We can't let you roam free with the possibility of you abusing your powers. That's all, Sophia. Believe me, we're only here to help you."

Sophia nodded, mostly so he wouldn't start saying things like, for example: Are you listening to me?

"Good. You'll see it's not so bad deep down."

It didn't take them long to reach her new room. It wasn't a padded cell, at least not yet. And it wasn't exactly a prison either. But at first glance, you knew it wasn't a room designed for a human being to live in. It was for something that couldn't be trusted; nothing with which she could hurt herself or try to escape. But especially the hurting herself part.

"Home, sweet home. At least for a few months. If you behave well, they'll surely let you spend the rest of your sentence in a center for parahumans, you know, normal ones. Although we don't like that word here. But you get me."

Sophia nodded again.

This is shit, everything is shit, she thought. But it's no more and no less than what I've brought upon myself, what I've earned. I understand.

She wondered what Emma was doing and thinking right now. She hadn't been entirely honest at the trial, hadn't thrown her to the wolves, which was why she wouldn't be surprised if Taylor had actually said something to her. And she would have really attacked her, though she wasn't sure. Although, on second thought, it had probably just been some kind of hallucination wanting to get rid of her responsibility. The truth was simply that she alone had almost killed her own mother and…

But that wasn't the point. She was digressing, beating around the bush. Beating around the bush. The point is she hadn't told everything, but enough to get her into some trouble. There was a reason Alan had offered to act as her lawyer again. He must have been too busy, working to keep the shit from splashing onto his precious little girl. Which was natural, of course. It was his daughter, but… But what? But what exactly? In any case, but nothing.

In any case, Emma wouldn't lift a finger for her. They had only been together because it was fun and convenient. She was well aware they weren't friends. That they weren't that kind of person. So that was that. Nothing more to say, right?

This was the end of the line. This sterile room. This empty shell. The end of one of the paths. She could have taken so many others, but it was too late to look back now. Too late.

And worst of all: she felt just as small, helpless, and scared as she had at the beginning. So many turns to end up in the same place. In the dark.

Life has teeth and there is no hope, she thought.

***

Taylor left the store carrying two shopping bags. It was raining. The weatherman's forecast had said it would be a sunny day. Ha! So she hadn't brought an umbrella. It must have started recently, because she only realized it after the automatic doors opened to let her out.

Maybe it would just be a downpour, or a summer shower, so to speak. Well, it wasn't summer. Never mind. Maybe she could go back into the store and wait for it to pass.

She should have done that, but suddenly she felt the urge to run. In the rain. Towards home. Running, laughing, with her arms up and outstretched. As if she didn't have a care in the world. As if everything was going to be okay. The rain washed over her, through her, cleansing her. It was like a shower of blessing, marking a new beginning.

Taylor laughed, without stopping her run.

***

Danny Hebert approached his wife's grave. He had never been very religious. He didn't come often. Just enough to change the flowers. And he never stayed too long. Some people were always in and out of cemeteries. And they stayed for a while, a good while, talking in the sepulchral silence to the headstones, as if their loved ones could hear them. Some people like him simply carried their pain inside. And they had no good way to lift a weight off their shoulders.

In moments when the feeling of loss suffocated him, in moments when the fact that the other side of the bed would always be empty felt like the cut of a dagger, Danny wished he could believe in something. To be sure that Annette was watching over them up there. And that someday the three of them would be together again.

But in the end, what had brought him to the cemetery not just to look at the headstone and change the flowers, but to kneel and bow his head as if he were praying, was inevitably his daughter. His only daughter.

"I don't know what to do, Annette," he confessed, believing that the mere act would lift some weight off his shoulders. It didn't. But at least it didn't make anything worse either. "I don't know what to think. Or what to do. I feel like Taylor is drifting further away from me every day. I feel like I'm failing her as a father. And it's not like I've tried very hard to begin with. I get it. I have no right to be surprised that she doesn't come to me. That she doesn't trust me. I know. But it still hurts. And I feel so lost. It's like… I don't even know how to say it."

Danny shook his head.

"Sometimes I look at her and I don't know what I'm seeing. Sometimes she seems like someone else. I know it's horrible for me of all people to think that. But I can't help it. If you were here… I'm sure… you would know what to do. No, rather… Taylor wouldn't be like this. You would have known how to guide her on the right path. I was… for too long without even… being her father. When she needed me most. I was too busy acting as if I were the only one… who missed you. You are… were just my wife. It can't compare… to losing a mother. It can't. Especially so young. So, so young."

Danny shook his head. He looked down. Admitting these things out loud helped to a certain extent. They couldn't take the weight off his shoulders, but they helped a little. No matter how ridiculous he felt deep down.

She was dead. No matter how much he believed, no matter how much he wanted to believe, no matter how much he lived in a world where men and women wielded powers like mythological gods, Danny didn't believe. He was convinced she wasn't anywhere. That dead is dead.

He ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair back, clearing his sweat-covered forehead. He felt like a pane of glass full of cracks, about to shatter.

"I know I haven't been a good father," he continued. "And I haven't been there when Taylor needed me most. But I really hope, my dear, that it's not too late. And if there's anything out there… please… help me. Lend me your strength. Because I need you now more than ever."

***

Taylor got home. Her legs were burning, but she actually felt very light. She was, of course, soaked from head to toe by the rain, but she barely noticed the cold. She was almost vibrating. She felt full of life.

The house was empty. She wondered where Dad was, but not for too long. Taylor found a change of clothes. She left them on the bed and then took a quick shower, even though she'd already had a good drenching. Just because.

Coming out, naked, damp, and vulnerable, she looked at herself in the mirror. And she only saw herself. She didn't see or hear anything that shouldn't be there. Good. Great.

She put on the new, dry, warm clothes and went downstairs to watch TV and snack on something. She had nothing better to do, for the moment.

I don't feel good. I don't feel good at all, she thought. But she kept digging into the bowl of popcorn and watching stupid stuff on TV.

***

"Again?" Loki said. She walked into the office. She sat on the chair, crossing her legs and arms. "If this keeps up, Armsmaster, I'm going to start thinking you enjoy talking to me."

Colin, of course, had nothing remotely resembling a sense of humor.

"I think it's time to lay our cards on the table, Taylor."

Chapter Text

"What's this about?" she asked.

"My cards," he replied simply. "I've been building a case against you."

Loki frowned; she forced herself to do it.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, of course you don't. In any case, not everyone liked the idea," Armsmaster continued. "You see, after the mess with Shadow Stalker, we're attracting a wide variety of bad publicity. We're attracting a *lot* of bad publicity. One problematic, dangerous Ward... Well, that's just one. Two? That starts to look like a systemic problem. So Director Piggot urged me to let it go."

"Aren't you going to tell me what I'm accused of?" Loki asked, playing her part perfectly, as always. Anyone who looked at her and heard her would swear she was an innocent, confused girl.

But Armsmaster simply ignored her.

"Then I spoke with Dragon and, to my surprise, she also tried to convince me to drop it. There were better options, given all the circumstances. After all, all I have is a lot of circumstantial evidence, if I can even call it that. Not enough to build a real case, far from it. I'm convinced you tried to sabotage Shadow Stalker, just as she accused you. Sophia was always a pain in the ass, and I can't blame you for what happened with her mother, or at least I don't think I can. But you didn't help either. You cornered her. Maybe that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been there. I don't know. All I know is that we turned a blind eye to Shadow Stalker too many times. Now the situation wants to force my hand again, but it's not the only way."

He slid the envelope towards her.

"I'd rather not continue tolerating your presence, as you're as disruptive an element as Sophia. So, this is a transfer form to the Chicago Wards."

"The diplomatic solution," Loki muttered.

"Yes, that's right. I've never been good at office politics. I've never known what to say, how to say it, or to whom. So I can only be direct: I'm not going to expel you. I can't. But make life easier for both of us and leave."

"I'm a minor," Loki said, smirking. "I can't decide these kinds of things for myself, selfishly."

"I figured you'd say something like that. You'll also get a considerable advance on your Ward pay. And a guaranteed job for your father, at least for the rest of the year. Because, otherwise, I'm aware you wouldn't move. Talk to him. Think about it as much as you want, but choose wisely. Listen to the voice of reason."

"I have no idea what you have against me, but it's not a bad offer." Loki grabbed the envelope. "I'll think it over, don't worry."

"At least, you could do me the favor of not pretending anymore. Of telling the truth, even."

"Are you saying that because you have a lie detector? Come on, don't make that face. I mean, at first, I didn't even suspect. But you haven't stopped throwing out phrases like 'Stop lying' or 'That's true,' as if there were no doubt. As if you just knew. You haven't exactly been subtle. If anything, I feel stupid for not realizing sooner. Well, you have it in your helmet, right?" Loki said, pointing a finger at her forehead. "Is it activated right now?"

"Yes," Armsmaster admitted.

"Okay. Then listen very carefully. I didn't do anything to Sophia. She destroyed herself. And if I leave here, it won't be because you decided it, but because I decide it. Because I'm not sure if I want to stay in a place like this. Where no… Where nobody knows how to wash their hands after taking a shit. Maybe in Chicago, we'll be more mindful, I don't know. Maybe the pay is better. I'll consider it. And well… aren't you going to tell me the verdict from your lie detector?"

Armsmaster was silent for a long time, looking back at her. Or at least, it seemed like a long time to her.

"Does it even matter?" he finally asked, his tone uninflected.

"No. I suppose not."

Armsmaster nodded.

"You can go. You… think about it."

"Certainly."

Loki stood up to leave. She reached the door. Placed a hand on the knob. Turned it. She expected a last-minute surprise. An ace up his sleeve. Or, at least, an attempt to have the last word. But nothing could have prepared her for the truth.

"That sounds… like something Sophia would say," Colin said. "A place where they don't know how to wash their hands after taking a shit."

Taylor stiffened.

She didn't answer, except for slamming the door on her way out, of course.

As soon as Loki left the office, leaving him alone with his thoughts, the oxygen level in the room seemed to increase.

Colin leaned back in his chair, sighed deeply, took off his helmet, and entered the correct data into the computer with the intention of reviewing the lie detector recordings, as if there could have been an error now that Dragon had looked at his design and made some modifications; as if, even if there were an error, it would look different this way. But he felt the need, so he would do it.

As he knew it would: "I didn't do anything to Sophia, she destroyed herself."

TRUTH

Armsmaster leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, very thoughtful.

"Now I have even less idea what to think," he murmured.

"It's very nice here, Taylor," Danny said, chewing and looking at the scenery through the window.

They were in one of Brockton Bay's best restaurants, at the very top. They weren't the type of people to look down on others, but it was also fine to change things up once in a while. He deserved this; no, they deserved it. They had spent too much time on the ground, crawling like worms, only able to move forward with the hope that things would change. But now it wasn't a matter of vain hope: things had truly changed. They were, well, they weren't at the top yet. The future was a bright blank page; things were only going to get better.

"But, can you tell me what all this is about and why you got an advance?"

"Here's the thing…" Taylor leaned back in her seat. "Well, the boss… well, the bosses, Armsmaster and Director Piggot, think it would be advisable to transfer me to the Chicago Wards."

"Chicago… I see."

"It doesn't mean I have to. It's my decision and yours, so don't think too much about it. Just enjoy the evening."

Danny nodded.

"Besides, I already know you wouldn't leave the ferry. You wouldn't leave your coworkers behind."

"No, Taylor. I'll do whatever you want."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You decide."

"Okay, well, I'm still thinking about it. Let's not talk about it for now."

"Sounds good to me."

They continued to enjoy their meal. Taylor looked around. This kind of place, full of old, privileged people, where you paid a king's ransom to eat less instead of more, she didn't particularly like. It wasn't her kind of atmosphere, but it was the best thing she could think of to spend it on. Thinking about how best to spend a good part of the advance and give Danny a treat, and herself too, this was the best she could come up with. So she intended to enjoy the evening, to forget about everything else, even if just for a day. They deserved it.

"Not a bad place," Danny said. "Maybe we should come here more often."

Taylor smiled, shrugged.

"Sure, why not."

And they continued eating and chatting, as naturally as possible. For too long, there had been something like an invisible wall between them, interfering with the natural father-daughter relationship. No, who was she kidding, it was still there, but at least it didn't feel so oppressive. Things could change for the better, no matter how low you thought you had fallen. Before, it would have seemed crazy to think like that, an optimistic thought even, but now Taylor was willing to embrace that hidden optimism, not to hide or be ashamed of it. She was tired of doubt and cynicism. There could be beauty and hope in this rotten world, why the hell not?

When they finished dinner, they got up from the table and walked around, taking a look. It wasn't just a restaurant; they had everything, like a ballroom with very good views of the city at night.

"Wait," Taylor said. "I remember that song. Yes, Mom used to play it for me. Relaxing music, to help us focus, when she read to me... and taught me things."

Danny stared at her.

"You still remember that?"

"Of course I remember," Taylor replied, her voice suddenly very low, almost inaudible.

After all, Mom was nowhere; she was gone forever. And she had to do everything possible to keep her memory alive, while the simple passage of time was snatching it away, day after day, year after year. Deep down, it hadn't been that long since the accident, and yet, sometimes she already doubted if she remembered her face or her voice as they had been. Time heals all wounds… none of that. Time was cruel. Time had teeth, and you had to do whatever possible to flee from it, to escape, to…

"Of course I remember," she repeated, her hand trembling slightly. She grabbed her wrist with her other hand, squeezing to hide it. In vain, she supposed, because Danny had surely noticed, but she tried to hide it anyway.

"Shall we dance?" Taylor finally asked. "The song… don't you want to dance it with me?"

Danny nodded.

"I'd love to."

To the dance floor. Under the night lights, there were too many people making noise around them, but for her, they soon disappeared, as if they were nothing more than an illusion. Soon, it was just the two of them.

"I know neither of us has any idea how to dance," Taylor continued, "but there's no harm in trying."

And that's exactly what they did. They tried as best they could.

Yes, time was cruel, but it didn't only work that way; it could also work in their favor. The invisible wall, little by little, was crumbling, and it would cease to exist now that there were no obstacles in the way, now that she had achieved her perfect victory, now that she could return to her normal life and be a whole person.

That's all I want, she thought, tightening her hands on her father's shoulders. To be a whole person.

They surely looked like a pair of idiots, an insult to the very art of dance, but it didn't matter. They were together, they were having fun, and that was enough. Let them look, let them even laugh; she doubted they were as happy as she was, now. She felt strange, she could almost see the ballroom from above, as if her soul had left her body—well, she didn't believe in things like souls in the first place—but in any case, something in her… she had no words to express what she was feeling.

And when the music stopped, when she came down from that high and turned around, all thoughts were cleared away like a pile of leaves in the wind.

"Well, well," Loki said. "Here with daddy, Emma? Got time for five-star restaurant dinners, with all the mess you're in?"

Not as much as she should, she knew. Sophia had been a bad girl and hadn't confessed everything, but still, some of the shit had rained down on them as collateral. That's why Alan hadn't been present at Sophia's trial, but a court-appointed lawyer, as is common.

I shouldn't have come here, Taylor thought. I didn't want to see her here.

And suddenly, she staggered backward. She almost didn't manage to regain her balance; almost, but she did. The pain came only afterward, slight, but rapidly increasing in intensity.

She realized it, distantly. She was aware, distantly, of her ragged breathing.

Taylor brought a hand to her chest and, pulling it away, saw that her fingertips were stained with blood.

She shot me. She shot me. Fucking bitch!

Chapter Text

Emma pulled the trigger again. This time, she felt it all: the explosion of pain, the force pulling her back. Her back crashed into something, something hard and cold: the glass, the windows were made of glass. The blood shone, such a red color, something that seemed unnatural, fake blood. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Screams, rising into the air; people fleeing, getting out of here like bats out of hell. Of course, no one ran to help her, not even to lend a hand. In the end, everyone was alone and on their own.

Emma pulled the trigger a third time, but she missed; she blew out the window instead of hitting her.

Taylor fell, but not backward, not into the void of the night's darkness; she just fell sideways, onto a bed of broken glass. The blood spread quickly.

She saw Danny throw Emma to the ground, struggling for the gun. Emma didn't resist, not even when Danny put his hands around her neck and squeezed.

No, she thought. That's the last thing I need now.

But she was already losing consciousness, consciousness… darkness was already taking over everything. Her eyes closed, and when she opened them again, it was all over.

Danny came to as two guys grabbed him, pulling him back, throwing him to the ground. His knuckles ached horribly, a throbbing, piercing pain. Unconsciously, he looked down and saw they were covered in blood, but naturally, it wasn't his own blood; there were no cuts, no wounds, large or small. Just blood. And, though in a distant way, Danny already knew why before he saw it.

Seeing the body lying on the floor, the face covered in blood, the swollen eye, the broken nose. The body of the girl who had once been his daughter's best friend. The girl Annette had believed would always be by Taylor's side, would always look out for her, would always be good friends. But it wasn't just a body. She was, without a doubt, still alive.

And that…

"Get your hands off me, you sons of bitches! Get your hands off me, now!"

His screams were wild, completely unhinged.

A mistake. His life was a mistake. Just like his life… a mistake. Failure after failure. A failure as a person, as a husband, as a father. Especially now. Especially now.

Danny started throwing punches at the guards. He wouldn't achieve anything by it, of course not, but he couldn't stand it. They were something to hit.

In the end, they subdued him, but not because he had faltered, but because he saw movement out of the corner of his eye…

"Taylor."

And he got distracted at a crucial moment.

Then he bit the dust.

"Taylor."

Probably, from a distant place, probably another world, he heard something like sirens. He heard… he heard… what was he hearing? He didn't even know what he was hearing.

Taylor was getting up, placing blood-covered hands on a table, staining the tablecloth red. She was rising from a rapidly growing pool of her own blood.

She staggered forward, as if looking for him, but she didn't get very far; she collapsed.

"Taylor."

Seeing her like that, he couldn't take any more. Adrenaline had been the only thing keeping him on his feet from the beginning. Danny Hebert simply shut down.

Emma Barnes was floating in darkness, floating. No, it wasn't dark, but her vision… something was wrong, something prevented her from seeing colors properly: blurred, distorted, and above all, distant. She vaguely realized, or perhaps remembered, that she was in an ambulance.

As for how she had gotten there, as she replayed it in her mind, that was still beyond her grasp. A heartbeat. It must be just a dream, a strange nightmare, because suddenly a ghost from the past loomed over her.

"Why did you do it?" Taylor asked, only it wasn't the Taylor she had hit, pushed, insulted, and bossed around for so long. And neither was it Loki, the vengeful specter, the monster who danced amidst illusory green smoke. It was that little girl to whom she had once sworn they would always be together and be everything to each other.

The girl who had died when her mother died in that car accident. No, no, no, no, not exactly. The girl… the girl she had killed.

"Why did you do it? With your own hands."

"My father and I…" she murmured weakly. Every breath was a stab in the chest, a great effort. "We were cornered by gangsters. They were going to rape me, sell me… and Sophia saved me."

"And that's why you had to turn your back on me."

Emma shook her head. Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. She felt strange, as if she were watching herself from the outside, as if she were nothing more than a soul that had left its shell. The shell, yes, the shell had broken, but what had gotten out of it?

"In reality, nothing, nothing, nothing would have stopped you. The three of us could have become friends."

"I was regretting pushing you away a bit, choosing Sophia over you. But then…"

"Then what, Emma?"

"You commented on my new haircut. You said it suited me."

"What kind of excuse is that?" She heard the knife whistling again, the hair falling. She felt the phantom pain in her side.

"None, none at all," Emma admitted, feeling the tears well up, thick and plentiful.

The ghost of the past disappeared, almost as if it were now satisfied. Emma Barnes returned to the darkness of oblivion to rest, at least for the moment.

Sophia sat on the bed in her room, or rather cell, curling up into a ball and putting her finger in her mouth to bite it, naturally, not to suck it. She wasn't a fucking baby. She had sent a letter a couple of days ago with, well, additional details.

After all, what reason did she have to protect Emma? Not to throw her to the wolves? They had never been friends, not really, and Emma's fucking father hadn't volunteered to be her lawyer again. He hadn't even attended the trial.

Of course, Emma hadn't either, even though she had saved her Emma's precious ass that night, and most likely that shitty little lawyer's life too—unless, of course, they had wanted to keep him alive to rape Emma in front of him, which was also possible. So fuck them, fuck them, damn it. She didn't owe them anything.

Why was she the only one who had to pay? That didn't make sense. Emma deserved it as much as she did, or more. At least, she hadn't even known Taylor before, let alone been her friend.

So fuck them, fuck them, fuck them, fuck them, fuck everyone.

Three circles.

No, three lights spinning, spinning, spinning. And her too.

Who was spinning? Taylor? Loki? Or her true self? Or a little girl in the wreckage of a car?

Yes, she was out of breath. Breathing was torture because there was something metallic stuck in her chest. Something that had pierced her cleanly, and now she could only writhe and spit blood. Futile efforts to escape the inevitable, from what was already done.

In the ruins of the car, she wasn't the only one suffering that way. There was a shadow beside her. A shadow that had once been everything. But now it was no more than a shadow on a moonless night. A fading memory.

"Mom," she said weakly, raising a trembling hand. "Mom."

And she reached out across the pool of blood and broken glass. She reached out without cutting herself, without reaching anywhere.

Because in the end, this was a lie. She hadn't been there when Mom had the accident. She had been at Emma's house waiting. No, having fun without a care in the world.

But at the same time, it wasn't a lie. No one had warned her that the little girl would die too. The world was too big to be encompassed by a single person, let alone a little girl. A foundation was needed, and foundations were fragile, illusory. That was what she had learned the hard way. Nothing more than a bit of smoke and mirrors in a chaotic, uncontrolled world.

I need control, she thought. Not for the first or the last time.

The white, blinding lights kept spinning, spinning, spinning, above her head. Bringing her, bringing her slowly, out of the darkness.

"I'm here, I'm here. Don't worry, I won't leave you."

A warm hand squeezing hers.

Yes, everything would be alright, because Dad was here. But also, there was a woman in the mirror. But also, Taylor was smiling.

There was another hand on top of both of theirs. The hand of a woman looking at them from the mirror. The whole family together.

Two weeks later

Danny took her out of the hospital, pushing her wheelchair.

Of course, she hadn't become an invalid, but she didn't have some incredible regeneration factor. She recovered more or less like a normal person, it just took more for her to die, quite a bit more.

"Let's get out of Brockton Bay. I don't know what it will be like," Dad said suddenly. "I don't know what Chicago will be like, but I'm sure it's better than this. This place isn't worth it."

"Uh-huh, I couldn't agree more."

They started the journey back home, not by car. At her request, because she wanted to get some fresh air. She wanted to breathe deeply, cross her arms behind her head, and simply enjoy the sights. Even the taste of the air seemed different, somehow.

Maybe this is freedom, she thought. Brockton Bay was a shitty city in many ways. On the way home, she discovered that wheelchair accessibility was one of them. But hey, they managed. But hey, they were managing.

Besides, she wasn't exactly in a hurry to get home. She could take things differently now.

I think I miss my friend, she thought, looking at the sky. Not for the first time, but surely the last. It was time to bury the past with a hatchet. Now, finally, it was time to turn the page.

"Taylor…" Dad began, hesitantly. "Are you happy?"

Loki smiled.

Chapter Text

The plane took off.

Today marked the beginning of a new life. She wasn't leaving anything behind, not even regrets. Taylor didn't know what Chicago was like, but Chicago wasn't Brockton Bay. It was a new place, full of possibilities, and that was enough for her.

That was why she had accepted the transfer, instead of insisting on staying, on making things difficult for Armsmaster and Director Piggot, even though, deep down, she knew she would have gotten her way, because they had no other choice.

"Taylor, in today's paper I saw…"

Dad, of course, was sitting in the seat next to her.

Taylor leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes.

"If it's news about Emma or Sophia, I don't want to know."

They were part of a not particularly pleasant past, and there was no reason for them to become anything more ever again. Sure, she'd sworn revenge on that trio of bitches. And yet, Julia and Madison, who between them barely counted as one whole person, hadn't gotten what they deserved.

Some shit would splash back on them, sure, but that wasn't enough. Still, Taylor had made this decision for a reason. What she had achieved was enough for her. Everything important had turned out perfectly, so she could accept this outcome.

Besides, Armsmaster had been building a case against her. He didn't know everything, but he knew too much. There was no need to risk it, leaving even more evidence behind. Well, there was a chance that might be the last straw. Of course, she wasn't going to be so careless as to leave evidence on purpose, but it was different when someone was after her.

Anyway, whatever, it didn't matter. The point was, it was time to turn the page and look at the blank page of a bright and hopeful future. Yeah, yeah, fuck, it sounded like a goddamn fairy tale, but she still had the heart to believe in it.

"Okay," Danny said, and looked away.

Well, looking ahead again, she wondered what he had seen, if it was about Emma or Sophia, but ultimately, she didn't give a damn.

"Are you nervous?" Dad asked after a while.

Maybe she had gripped the armrests of the seat too tightly.

"You know I don't like not being in control," Taylor licked her lips.

Necessary or not, she was in a steel deathtrap. Worse still, all the family she had left was too. She'd probably save herself thanks to her powers, but Dad was another story.

It was possible, possible, and it was also possible, in fact, more than likely, that nothing at all would happen, that she was freaking out like an idiot over nothing. She took a deep breath. Taylor immediately regained the control she craved so much.

"It's a matter of getting used to it," Dad said. "I wasn't exactly thrilled the first few times I had to fly either."

"The first few times? Have you had to fly that much?"

"Not many, but enough." Danny laughed. "To be honest, I wasn't eager to get on one of these things again."

"I see."

"But if you have to do it, might as well go all in, right?"

"Do you think you'll get used to it?" Taylor asked immediately. Well, she had to kill time somehow and wasn't in the mood to watch a movie.

Dad shrugged.

"I don't see why not, it can't be worse."

"Yeah, that's true."

"I'm willing to get used to any city necessary for you, anyway."

Loki nodded as if she already knew he'd say that.

The trip was going to feel long, and as for the meeting with the Chicago Wards, that surely would too, but at least she'd have a day to rest. And she highly doubted there was a bigger asshole than Sophia on the team.

She would miss Vista, their talks and girl stuff, where they got along quite well, despite the age difference. But Chicago wouldn't be bad either. She could make friends there, maybe without complications, without lies involved. Maybe.

During a layover, Loki took the opportunity to go to the bathroom, but not to relieve herself. She just washed her face with cold water, several times, eyes closed. She splashed quite a bit, in her hair, on her wrists, on the floor.

It didn't make her feel better at all, nor clearer-headed, nor anything.

Then she opened her eyes again and looked in the mirror.

Big mistake, because, once again, it wasn't her own reflection looking back at her.

"What are you doing here?" Loki asked. "Can't you leave me alone? I'm happy, I'm free. That should be enough for you. You should be happy for me."

Loki pursed her lips, only she knew there was nothing there. Just an illusion. Annette's spirit wasn't watching or judging her. It was an effect of her powers that she still didn't quite understand, that was beyond her control. Just that and nothing more.

But it was hard to remember the facts looking at her. Her heart told her something her mind knew was impossible. That's why she was continually tormented.

Loki took a deep breath.

"What are you going to tell me now? That Emma didn't plan it? That she lost control seeing me there, in a five-star restaurant, moving up in the world while she was crashing down? I already know that. But it didn't change anything. She got what she deserved. Nothing more."

For a moment, she felt tempted to punch the bathroom mirror. She wouldn't get in trouble if she did, but it wasn't her mirror, so she just lowered her fist.

"She made her own decisions and will have to live with them," Loki said finally, "just like me."

She stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the frame trembled. Her hands were trembling too.

Once on the plane, Taylor picked up her phone to distract herself. Flying didn't really agree with her and she didn't want to repeat the experience. Unless someday, somehow, she could fly on her own, of course.

The decision not to have a cell phone, not to take advantage of the convenience, was also a thing of the past. And it should have been that way a long time ago. It had always been stupid.

However, in this case, it turned out to be a mistake. She didn't see any news about Emma. She wasn't interested and had no burning desire to read the inevitable consequences of that stupid girl's actions.

It turned out to be something she'd actually forgotten. All the Cape enthusiasts were now talking about Regent still being alive. Apparently, the casualty among the Undersiders members had been nothing more than a trick. Misinformation.

Taylor crossed her legs and rested her chin on her fist. Curious. Why had they wanted to pretend Regent was dead? What had they intended? And had it served them any purpose in the end?

She felt a certain curiosity, how could she not? She was a curious person by nature, but she knew it was wrong here. The Undersiders were in Brockton Bay and were part of that city, of her past.

She didn't give a shit if Regent was alive or dead. The Undersiders had barely even entered the periphery of her life, of her plans.

So, after reading for a while, it didn't help her figure anything out. She decided to let it be, closing the tabs and starting to look for other trivialities just to kill time.

As far as she was concerned, Regent and the rest of the Undersiders were dead. The same went for Sophia, Emma, Madison, and anyone else. She wouldn't see them again, so it was the same thing.

"I'm free now," Taylor murmured.

"Did you say something?" Dad asked, who until then had seemed on the verge of falling asleep.

Loki smiled.

"No, nothing."

The airport. The last airport and the final landing.

Loki set foot in Chicago for the first time. She took a deep breath. Even the air seemed different from Brockton Bay's. No doubt, just as polluted. But that wasn't the point.

New house, new job for her father, new friends, new teammates, and new threats towards which to direct her powers and cunning. This time, cleanly, serving the team's interests. Not trying to sabotage one of her own, because this was starting over. A clean slate.

This must be the smell of freedom, she thought. She thought of one of her favorite movies. Well, more her mother's favorite than hers, but it was practically the same thing. Singin' in the Rain. The famous scene everyone knew and defined the movie.

There was no rain. Of course not. But that wasn't the point. She felt like dancing and singing anyway.

The new house was, well, a building, four walls, a floor, a ceiling. In time it would become a home. In time, or so she hoped.

Anyway, it couldn't be worse, because the building in Brockton Bay had long since stopped feeling like home to her.

"Another missed call," Danny said, clicking his tongue, while they were in the middle of unpacking.

"Leave it," Loki replied. "They'll realize it's fine for me to leave the Brockton Bay Wards after what happened. It's bad for public relations. But trying to force me to stay would be a hundred times worse."

Danny nodded.

"Taylor, you have more than enough reasons not to want anything to do with Brockton Bay and its Protectorate. Everything they let slide, the way they've treated us... I understand perfectly. But there's something I don't understand, and I think it's time we talked about the elephant in the room."

"I don't see any elephant," Taylor said.

"I'm serious. Look, it still hurts you, I know, no matter how much you try to hide it. I can tell. You get tired quickly. You're still not completely well. So, why did you refuse to let Panacea heal you?"

"Dad..."

"At the time, I supported you because I thought you didn't need more stress, but I don't understand it. She would have healed you in a flash. You wouldn't have to be suffering, or using the wheelchair."

Taylor sank onto the sofa, took a deep breath, and then sighed deeply.

"You're a bit naive, Dad."

"I guess I am, because I have no idea what you're referring to."

"Look, Panacea tries to be impartial, for whatever reason. Help all the people she can. When she can. If she came straight for me, it wasn't by chance, nor out of compassion. My ex-boss needs a win. A Ward in the psych ward. All her actions revealed, the extent to which they turned a blind eye to her. A Ward who caused the most recent one's Trigger Event. A Ward who was a friend—well, 'friend'—of the person who tried to kill the new recruit."

Danny winced. He supposed it bothered him that she was talking about such a recent wound as if it had nothing to do with her, with them. Taylor understood, she supposed, but that wasn't her intention.

"And now this. They chose a bad time to transfer me to Chicago. On top of that, this looks very, very bad. And the only thing that can clean up some of the shit that's splashing on them is my testimony. Understand? My support. I'm not going to shake their hand, because otherwise, they'll rip my fucking arm off."

Her father looked as if he wanted to comment on her language, but he bit his tongue.

"I'd like to say you're wrong, but I suppose you're not. Still..."

"What's the matter?"

"I miss your innocence, I guess. I'm sorry I couldn't protect it, even if just a little longer."

Taylor looked away.

"It's not your fault," she replied.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason. The truth was, she couldn't get Dean's warning about Amy out of her head. Sure, she didn't know the details, but it was obvious, wasn't it? The world was full of people who used their authority, their powers, in selfish ways. For their own convenience, no matter how many people they trampled along the way. She was one of the few people with the courage and heart to use these powers for good.

She had believed Panacea was one of them, selflessly saving so many people, but she supposed that wasn't the only thing she did. She supposed that, at least sometimes, she abused her powers. She had no proof. Her investigation had been short and superficial because she hadn't wanted to get distracted from Sophia and her real plans. However, she didn't doubt it either. Corrupt authority, power tended to end up in the hands of those who least deserved it; these last few weeks, if anything, had reinforced what she believed. In fact, they had shown her that things were even worse than she had thought in her darkest moments.

The rage she felt when she saw Sophia parading around as a heroine, the urge to vomit. How many times she had stayed up very late, not because she wanted to, but unable to sleep. Thinking about that, thinking that some people had everything, got away with it time and time again, and others had nothing.

Enough, Taylor thought, enough. There was no need to think about those things now. The past was buried, buried. She hugged herself on the sofa, digging her nails into her forearms.

"Honey," her father said suddenly, "what are you thinking about?"

So, she had let the mask slip, let her emotions show on her face. Not good.

"Nothing," she said, but quickly corrected herself. "Well, yes, there's another reason I refused Panacea's help, but I'd rather keep it to myself. I'd rather not talk about it."

"Well, as you wish. Nothing serious?"

It is to me, Taylor thought. Now that I'm badly injured. I guess because I almost didn't make it. Like when Mom died, you're much more attentive to me. You don't think about a dead woman, nor an equally dead dock, nor broken dreams, nor the reflection of a city that maybe once existed outside of past nostalgia. Instead of that, you're always looking out for me.

"No, nothing," she replied.

She couldn't tell him that, because it was unfair. She knew it perfectly well. She was mostly to blame for her father and her drifting apart. She had almost made an effort to push him away, lying to him for so long, never talking about anything, about anything in particular. But however unfair it was, it was also true. It felt good, having him so attentive, taking care of her.

I guess that doesn't say anything good about me, she thought, but I stopped kidding myself that I'm a good person a long time ago.

As for the team, her new teammates... Well, that was new. All of them, the guys and girls, seemed, let's say, very happy to see her. But it wasn't like she had suddenly become the hottest chick in the United States, of course.

"Glad to have you on the team, Loki," Everett said, aka Tecton, the leader of the Chicago Wards, extending a hand for her to shake.

So she did.

"Mine's bigger," Loki said. And suddenly a considerable bulge grew in her crotch.

There was a lot of laughter. One of the girls, she still didn't remember their names well, blurted out:

"I wish my boyfriend could do that."

Loki smiled, playing along with the hazing they had prepared for her to secure her position was the best opening move.

Ah, when had she started to think only in those terms, to see the world in a slightly distorted way? But she supposed it didn't matter. She supposed the line had been crossed and there was no turning back. This was how it was now, and that was that. What had been seen couldn't just be erased from memory. Once certain pieces fell into place, they stayed there.

Chapter Text

"We're not giving you field work yet, given your condition," Tecton said.

"Of course, I understand. Don't think I'm in a hurry to get back on the streets."

"Oh, you're not?"

"What's wrong? You don't believe me?"

Tecton shrugged.

"That's not it, Taylor. It's not that. It's just that most kids our age would be in a hurry. Especially those who haven't been using their powers for long. It's like an instinct."

She didn't like that idea. That her feelings and decisions could be influenced by the mere fact of having powers.

"Or it's just teenage nonsense."

Tecton laughed.

"Yeah, could be."

A short while later…

"Here's your chair."

Taylor took a seat and, without asking, put on the headphones that were on the table.

"Being the voice in the earpiece isn't so bad," Tecton said. "We all have to take a turn, from time to time. Well, I imagine you've already had to do it at your previous post."

"Yeah, once or twice," Loki admitted. "I'm sure there'll be differences, but don't worry, I'm a fast learner."

Tecton leaned his back against a wall, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, I'd imagine so. At least, judging from what I've read about you."

"What exactly did it say in my file?"

"Not too many details, but still. Your aptitude tests, the demonstration of your powers, the fights, the help you provided when that gang war broke out."

"It's still going on," Taylor said, though she didn't give a shit.

"Yeah, well, you know what I mean. You're... a fast learner. That much is clear. And that's all I meant. You fought like someone with experience."

"Who said that?"

"Armsmaster and Miss Militia agreed on that, according to the reports. I'm not supposed to talk about this stuff, but hey…" Tecton shrugged. "You're not going to snitch, are you?"

Taylor smiled.

"Of course not, boss-man."

"Well, I'll leave you alone so you can get familiar with the controls. And, well, normally I'd show them to you, but I get the feeling you'd prefer it this way," Tecton said.

Loki nodded. After all, there was no point in bothering to deny it.

"The next patrol will start soon, but most likely nothing will happen, so don't worry about it."

Loki nodded again, although that didn't worry her. Quite the opposite. She wasn't sure who she was when she didn't have a purpose to guide her.

She supposed she had the time and space to figure it out now. And though that scared her too, the scene jumped forward.

Nothing interesting happened during the patrol. Taylor knew that was normal, that it couldn't be the end of the world every day. That it couldn't be the end of the world every week. But still, part of her felt disappointed.

She felt adrift. She didn't know what to do now, so it wouldn't be bad if some direction fell into her lap, effortlessly, for a change. She thought she deserved it. Easy solutions, a better life.

She saw her mother's reflection on one of a monitor's screens as she was shutting everything down for the day.

Or maybe not, she thought. Maybe I don't deserve anything.

She went to leave, to head home. But near the main door, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

Grace. Her superhero one wouldn't come to mind. She used to be good with names, but then again, she hadn't been here very long.

"Is something wrong?" Taylor asked.

"I just wanted to talk to you for a bit, if you don't mind."

"Well, okay, whatever you want."

They sat on a nearby bench. Not only superheroes were leaving the building, but also a fair number of workers. Taylor stared at the sea of people, her hands clasped in her lap.

"Alright, shoot."

It wasn't important at all, but she remembered that Grace wasn't her real name, but her superhero name. She was sure she'd heard the real name when everyone introduced themselves, but she'd forgotten it and even gotten confused. Grace was probably just easier to remember. It didn't really matter, but hey. This is what happens when you don't have a compass, she thought with painful clarity, or a north star.

"I read a bit of your file, the news, everything that happened in Brockton Bay."

Taylor raised an eyebrow. She didn't know how she'd read her file, but she didn't care enough to ask.

"And what about it?" said Taylor.

"Nothing, nothing, I just wanted you to know that, well, if you need anything, even if it's just someone to talk to, well, I'm here."

Grace, or whatever her name was, looked away, clearly embarrassed. Embarrassed; now all she needed was an exaggerated blush.

"I'm not good at this," she mumbled.

"Me neither," Taylor replied, for obvious reasons, "but thanks. That's all in the past, I don't care about it, but I appreciate the sentiment."

The girl looked back at her.

"In the past, seriously? But she shot you, you almost died. And I heard she was a friend of yours, right? On top of it all."

"She was, a long time ago. It didn't catch me by surprise, exactly."

Taylor shrugged.

"She'd been hating me long enough to boil over on her own, to screw up my life. It's not a long way from there to a couple of gunshots. This is America."

"You say that so calmly…" Grace shook her head. "Well, it's not like I want you to break down, but…"

A flash. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flash of a reflection that wasn't hers. Taylor grimaced.

"I'm not calm, I'm not okay," Taylor said, "but I came here ready to take a step forward. And that's what I'm going to do. Your help wouldn't hurt."

Grace looked thrilled.

"I know it can be hard, to trust again, after all that, but… we can be friends. I won't turn my back on you."

Loki was silent.

"Why go so far for a stranger? Why does this seem to affect you?"

"Because nobody should be screwed over like that, and you're not a stranger. You're my teammate."

After a moment, Taylor nodded.

"Thanks."

"They're all good kids, seriously," Taylor said, chewing, "from what I've seen so far."

"Looks can be deceiving," Dad said.

It was funny that he of all people would say that, the most transparent man in the world, to her. She almost laughed, in fact.

"From what I've seen so far," she just repeated. "Don't worry, I'm not so willing to offer a hand just to have them rip off my arm."

"You really like saying that, don't you?"

They can't rip my heart out, she thought.

Loki washed her face, looked in the mirror. Her mother's eyes looked back at her, in a very literal sense, of course, not like when Danny would say, "You have your mother's eyes." The same was true of her hair, which was why they were the only things she felt proud of as a woman. But now there was no pride, not the slightest trace. She just felt as if her internal organs were melting, burning her from the inside out.

It was there again, of course it was, it was always, always there, lurking.

"What do you want from me?" Taylor asked.

Which was a rather stupid question, of course; she wasn't even sure what this was. At first, she had thought, or convinced herself, that it was a matter of her powers, an unintended, somehow provoked, side effect. Now, well, she was entertaining the idea that she was simply losing her mind. In any case…

"What do you want from me?"

It kept looking at her, barely blinking. It was an independent reflection; it didn't follow her movements and no one else could see it. She had tested it with Danny, as cruel as that would have been if he had been able to see it, if her hypothesis had been wrong. So she was sure of those two things, but nothing else.

"What do you want?"

The bathroom light flickered. She thought it would explode or go out, plunging her into a world of shadows, but nothing happened at all.

"I'm not proud," Taylor said. "Okay? Was that what you wanted to hear? I'm not proud. I was supposed to be better."

The specter disappeared from the mirror, but Taylor was convinced that it hadn't worked, that it would be back.

It always left; in the end, it always came back. Not so long ago, I would have given anything to see you again, she thought. And now I don't know how to get rid of you.

Chapter Text

New day, new school. They had to stick her somewhere. Truth be told, Taylor had no desire to continue her education. She already knew what she needed to know, though not much more. It was enough for her. If it had been up to her, she would have preferred to finish the course online.

But Danny had insisted, and she no longer argued with her father. She had made him suffer enough.

So, it was back to parking her ass in a chair and playing the fool. For a couple of years, at least. It wasn't that long, looking at it objectively. As suffocating as the prospect was, now that her internal compass was out of whack, so to speak.

The new high school was cleaner and prettier than Wilson. Even better than Arcadia, to be honest. But one of the things she knew was that all high schools were the same deep down.

When recess came—and by the way, no more partial days; she had to waste the entire morning—a crowd of boys and girls surrounded her table and spoke to her with apparent friendliness. They asked her where she had lived before, why she had moved here, why she was here now. They made her offers.

"Want to eat with us?"

"Could we hang out after school?"

And stuff like that. Taylor turned them all down as politely as she could and headed for the door. Katherine, who didn't want her to end up getting confused and screwing up, intercepted her in the hallway.

"Taylor?" she said. "Are you overwhelmed? First day and all that?"

As the tide of students flowed outside, Taylor leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and looking at the girl.

"Are you saying that because I turned them down?"

"Yes. I mean, I'd rather you be free to eat with me, with us. But it wouldn't hurt for you to make friends outside of… you know."

I don't have any friends inside of… you know, either, Taylor thought. Not yet. Too soon for that. But she chose to bite her tongue on that point.

"You're a little naive, Katherine."

"Fuck you."

She didn't say it angrily, but as naturally as breathing. She had a doll-like face but a foul mouth.

"Seriously. Look, all this interest in me is, best-case scenario, because I'm the new girl. Okay? That's all. The news of the week. Maybe just for the day, since I look like this. And that's the best-case scenario. It's also perfectly possible they just wanted to mess with me."

"And how do you know that?" Katherine asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. "How do you know that?" she repeated more slowly, as if she were talking to someone slow.

Taylor frowned, opening her mouth to retort, to maybe even shove her, to get her hand off. But then, she continued.

"Did you even ask them? Did you even give them a chance? Are you telling me you know them?"

Taylor closed her mouth. She licked her lips, which were suddenly very dry. For the first time in what felt like a long time, a reply didn't immediately come to her lips. In fact, it didn't come at all. She stood tense, silent, meeting Katherine's gaze, though a part of her found it difficult not to look away from that sincere and determined stare.

In the afternoon, Taylor told her father she was going out with a friend. Nothing, no more details. He let her go, of course, though that didn't stop the fear in his eyes. An objective observer would have also said it was just a sign that he was a good father and a matter of common sense. Of course he was worried they would take advantage of her, that she would be bullied again, that she would start with the secrets all over again. But for the first time, the fear she saw in his eyes didn't feel like a sign of concern. She felt it like a chain around her neck.

Even so, or perhaps precisely because of it, she set off. She was meeting Katherine, of course. She was the person her age she had spoken to most in Chicago, if only because she was stubborn as a mule and always pushed where others would have let her be.

She took her to a café. Katherine insisted on paying for her own drink too, despite Taylor's protests, so Taylor threw in the towel. Like she said, stubborn as a damned mule. Taylor took a sip of her coffee. Well, it wasn't bad, and neither was the place. It was spacious, well-decorated, with some people and background noise, but it wasn't one of those loud places where you could barely hear your own thoughts.

"How much have you read about me?" Taylor asked.

"Enough to know it's a miracle you agreed to go out with me," Katherine admitted without hesitation. "But I don't want to learn about you from newspaper articles and Protectorate reports. I want to get to know the real you. You must be wondering how I read your file."

"I have my suspicions, but yes."

"Everett let all of us read it. Yeah, fuck, I know what you're thinking. Breach of privacy, but for the record, he was really worried about making you feel welcome. He wanted ideas, help."

"I know. You think I haven't noticed how he's always trailing after me? It was either that or a crush."

"And he couldn't have a crush?"

Taylor laughed. A carefree, genuine, unguarded laugh.

"Of course not. I'm ugly."

"Taylor…"

"Don't give me that story, like I'm some ugly duckling. I know exactly what I look like."

Katherine was silent for a moment, stirring her coffee with a spoon.

"Taylor, you're certainly no model. You're not a heartbreaker, either. But ugly? Look in the mirror. Really look."

I rarely can, she thought.

"You're a normal girl," Katherine continued. "Yeah. That's all. I wouldn't mind looking like you instead of having this little doll face. And yes, I'm quoting a newspaper or two."

"That's why you use 'fuck' like it's a comma, huh?" Taylor said. "Practically screaming, 'Look at me, I'm a grown-up!'"

The words slipped out before she could really think about whether she should have said them. She thought she'd screwed up, that this, whatever it was, was over. But Katherine just nodded.

"You're right about me, Taylor. I swear too much because I'm insecure. I want people to see more than just a pretty face. But you don't know everything about everyone, no matter how smart and perceptive you are. For example, those boys and girls you rejected so easily. Yes, it's true that some of them might have had bad intentions. And it's completely true they'll forget about you in a week. Maybe less. But you don't have the right to nod and say, 'Just as I thought.' Because it's your fault. You never gave them a chance. Tell me what else was supposed to happen, for fuck's sake," Katherine said. "And the worst part is, you treat yourself the same way you treat everyone else."

"What do you mean?"

Katherine reached out, taking one of Taylor's hands and squeezing it tightly. Her nails dug into her skin.

"I'm telling you to give yourself a chance, damn it. This is a new beginning. Why do you insist on everything being the same?"

For the second time, she left her speechless.

Chapter Text

When she got home, Danny was there, right on the other side of the door. As if he had been waiting there for her the whole time, in the hallway.

A ridiculous image, of course. He would have just heard and seen her approaching through a window. In any case, that was the impression she got, because it was clear her father was scared. And to be honest, she was too.

"How did it go?"

"I… I don't know. Not bad, but I don't know."

Taylor looked away.

"I think I understand."

For the first time in a long time, Taylor believed him.

Taylor crossed her legs. It was a gesture she didn't usually make; she tended to sit more like a man, but lately she'd picked up the habit for one reason or another.

She supposed there didn't have to be a reason, just as there was no reason for this. What did she gain by leaving here and stop hearing that empty chatter? What was she doing here? Well, that was simple. Apparently, the Chicago Protectorate had decided that a little psychological help wouldn't hurt after all the trauma she'd been through. Funny, huh? But unless they were going to have a psychiatrist see her and give her some pills, Taylor wasn't sure what good this would do.

Words were just words. How could she heal by talking to a stranger for whom she was just a job? Taylor had always appreciated the idea of therapy, the concept that mental health mattered as much as physical health, but she had never believed it would do her any good, and so far, she hadn't been proven wrong.

"Are you really opening up to them?" the therapist asked suddenly.

So she couldn't just listen and act like she gave a damn anymore, she had to talk. Unfortunately, that was the worst part. She was as honest as she could afford to be.

"I'm trying," Taylor said. "Not long ago, the person who was once my best friend, my only friend, shot me three times and nearly killed me. Excuse me if trusting isn't easy."

The therapist nodded solemnly, as if she hadn't said the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's natural. A trauma like that isn't overcome in decades, maybe never…"

Well, you're really cheering me up, Taylor thought.

"…But? I sense there's a 'but'."

The woman leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her hands clasped in a way that covered her mouth. By the way, of course she knew her therapist's name, she just didn't give a shit.

"I'll be frank, then," she said, though she didn't look very frank. "I'm not sure how much of your progress is genuine and how much is performative to make your life easier and pass the psych evaluations."

Of course, Loki tensed slightly. Had she seen through her, or was it just a natural suspicion in a therapy like this? In her case, both ideas bothered her, but the first one was much worse. She prided herself on her masks and her lies, even if she didn't have a specific purpose to apply herself fully now.

Thoughtfully, in the end, Loki decided to brush against the truth, or at least a truth as close as she herself could perceive it at this point. Sometimes the liar wasn't the only one deceived.

"But, can't it be both?" Taylor said in a small, almost inaudible voice. She cleared her throat a little. "I don't want to be examined under a microscope like a lab rat,"—the woman frowned—"but I also don't want to feel…"

The other woman waited patiently for her to continue, but eventually, her patience ran out.

"Feel what?"

"Adrift, I guess." Taylor licked her lips. "And alone."

"Taylor, I know perfectly well you think this is all a waste of time. You're not the first or the last, believe me." She dropped her hands onto the table. She wasn't smiling, because this was very serious, but her eyes were warm, almost as if she truly cared. "In fact, if someone walks in here thinking otherwise, I'll buy a lottery ticket. But that's precisely why this is important, because you need the tools, and I can give them to you."

Taylor remained silent. She had nothing to say, or rather, she didn't know how to say it. Therefore, she could only keep her mouth shut.

"The problem is, I can only help you if you want to be helped."

Loki looked away from Annabella's gaze. She threw her head back and exhaled slowly. Her head was pounding, as if it were about to explode. Blood was buzzing in her ears.

'Only if you want to be helped.' That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it?

Another day as the voice in the ear for the Chicago Wards. Her recovery was advancing by leaps and bounds, but that's all she would be for a good while. The Wards were on a rooftop, well-positioned, crouching to minimize the risk of being seen, spotting them from the shadows of the night. And, of course, they were watching something: a safe house. She, included among them, was far away, a few kilometers away. She saw everything through the cameras, more than enough.

It didn't do much good; she couldn't feel like a teammate this way, fighting by their side. But at least she was there, in a way, no matter how restless and inadequate she felt deep down.

"How are you doing, Loki?" asked Grace.

I'm a fucking mess, she thought.

My name is Taylor, she thought.

"Bored," was all she said. That was also true, to be fair.

"I don't blame you," Tecton said. "Stakeouts are boring."

Taylor nodded. She had expected from the beginning that most of the time nothing would happen, that it required patience above all else. However, they weren't even as interesting as in cop shows where they complain about nothing happening. The monotony of being there for hours, just waiting; how tough it could be, even from the other side of the screen. As well as she understood it intellectually, she hadn't seen it coming. It had caught her completely by surprise.

"At least you can browse the internet," Grace said. "If I... if we're here, we're stuck here with a stick up our asses."

She imagined them all as gargoyles on the building's facade, dark and silent, waiting for the right moment.

Someone sighed. She recognized the voice instantly, before he spoke, perhaps because it was something he did often. Annex.

"Guys, take this a little more seriously."

His real name was Kirk, if she remembered correctly. She hadn't spoken to him much, but he was a pretty serious guy. If anyone had a stick up their ass, it was him, and no one had found a way to get it out.

"I always thought guys were the perverts," Wanton said, "but then I met Grace and her strange fixation on sticks and asses."

"Fuck you," Grace replied, immediately, of course.

"What did I just say?" Wanton and Annex said in unison, though for very different reasons.

Taylor couldn't help but smile. Quite the comedy routine.

"Let them talk," the leader gave his verdict. "They have to kill time with something."

He wasn't wrong, because they were in for a long wait. The silence was gone. And meanwhile, Taylor, of course, continued to watch them through the cameras. And also the Royals' safe house, only about twenty meters away. That group of supervillains had a considerable ego judging by the name, which was quite common. Petty criminals, or not? But these weren't petty; they were, after all, a dynasty, a power so established that the only examples that came to mind were from the past, and she didn't want to think about that, not at all.

Taylor frowned and was very grateful when Grace provided a distraction.

"Hey, Tecton," she asked, without batting an eye, "do you remember your first blowjob?"

What the fuck? Taylor thought.

"What?" the brave leader's voice sounded rather high-pitched.

"Oh my God," Wanton whispered, amazed and clearly holding back laughter.

"You are supposed to say 'yes'." Grace insisted.

Tecton rolled his eyes but played along.

"Yes?"

"How long did it take the guy to cum?"

It took her a second to process the punchline. Then they burst into laughter. All of them, perhaps a little too loudly. Even Taylor, to her surprise, laughed. Her laughter was sincere and unreserved, like a little gir, for a change. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed like that.

At least I have no reason to hold back, she thought. Jesus, girl.

"She got you good, man," Annex said.

"Well, it didn't take me long," Raymancer said.

And that, Wanton commented, was the real punchline.

Grace herself doubled over with laughter at what was, after all, her own joke. Tecton shook his head as the others laughed even harder.

"With friends like these…" he said, but even he was laughing.

But then he imposed order and silence. It was true they had laughed too loudly at such a short distance from the safe house. If someone from the Protectorate had heard them, they would have gotten a good chewing out.

They waited for another half hour, but finally, the action erupted.

Three members of the Chicago Protectorate. The Wards stayed where they were for now. Maybe until the end. This was a major operation, after all, against some sons of bitches, some dangerous sons of bitches. And all of them were still kids. They weren't exposed to more danger than was strictly necessary. That wasn't just a selling point to convince parents; they were treated with kid gloves, though mostly because of the sword of Damocles called the Youth Guard.

"I wish Myrddin had come, at least," Wanton said. "I would have liked to see him in action."

"Yeah," Raymancer said. "We hadn't noticed."

"I don't get what that means," Wanton asked with complete sincerity, as if it wasn't obvious enough that his superhero costume was partly inspired by the leader of the Chicago Protectorate, the supposed and self-proclaimed wizard.

"Nothing," Raymancer said.

Wanton opened his mouth to say something, but in the end, he decided to let it go.

Loki watched the fight through the cameras the Wards wore for the mission and by law, and through the street cameras. She saw how the Chicago Protectorate tore through the safe house with the Royals barely able to put up any resistance, despite it being a mission to capture one of the most important members of one of the worst and most persistent villain groups in their city. Apparently, Myrddin had better things to do.

However, Revel, Anomaly, and Campanile had shown up, fighting with precision, skill, and great coordination, not just between their bodies, but also their powers. It was obvious they complemented each other, and she got a few ideas from it to consider later. Although, of course, they were cheating. Their powers were just too good. For example, Campanile's gravity-altering aura combined with practically any power she could think of. The same went for Anomaly and his physics-defying black spheres. And between them was Revel, who could manipulate various forms of energy with her body as a conduit. In a way, it was similar to Myrddin's power, though of course much more limited. Anyway, they made a good team. Myrddin had done well to recruit them.

The target fell quickly too. Not just the grunts and minor barons, but the grand prize. But there was a problem: he still had the strength to escape with his tail between his legs. And thanks to a better perspective than the Wards', Taylor could see that he would probably succeed, which would ruin the operation, of course. But it didn't have to be that way.

"Tecton, move," Loki said… no, ordered. "Vulcan Raven is about to get away."

"We haven't been authorized yet," but the protest sounded exceptionally weak.

"Do you want to avoid a scolding or put the bad guys in jail?"

Tecton hesitated, but to his credit, not for long. He nodded.

"Let's go, team. We'll cut him off."

The Chicago Wards set off, getting down from the building with or without help, quite quickly. They crossed the twenty meters to the alley, ready to intercept the enemy who couldn't suspect what was coming for him. And, indeed, they captured him before he could escape. It wasn't even difficult; after all, the Protectorate had done most of the work.

He was in no condition to fight by the time his companions got their hands on him. Well, another day at the office. Boring, but at least the operation had been a complete success and, thanks to her, the Protectorate's job had been much easier.

She thought they'd give her a pat on the back and a thank you. That wasn't the case. Loki entered Myrddin's office, following the self-proclaimed wizard closely.

"I know what you're going to say," she began. "I had no right to give orders, as if it were my team or my call. I'm sorry."

"That's all well and good, except for the part where I don't believe you're sorry, of course." The man took a seat, leaning his staff against the desk.

No one had challenged her, so to speak, so openly in Brockton Bay. But here she had no reason to lie, she supposed, to try so hard, so she just shrugged.

"It's what I'm supposed to say."

"No, that's no use to me if you're just going to turn around and do it again whenever you think it's appropriate."

He didn't sound angry or even frustrated, just a man explaining something very obvious, and of course she couldn't say he was wrong. She would probably do it again if she thought it was necessary, especially if she thought she could get away with it and no one would know. She should shut up, do her best to apologize again and sound sincere this time. However, well, maybe she felt like talking to someone besides Tecton, Grace, and Annabella.

"Sir, do you really think I was wrong? If I hadn't given the order, the operation would have failed. Now there's one less villain on the streets."

She wasn't asking for a medal, but she didn't think she deserved a private scolding in his office either. Nor did Tecton, by the way; he would have done the same as her if he'd had the chance to be there. And it had been her idea in the first place; she had convinced him. Maybe that's why they weren't getting this talk together. Maybe Myrddin wouldn't call Tecton. A bit unfair.

"Well, no, you weren't wrong," Myrddin admitted easily, to her surprise. "That's not the point, but I'm not surprised you'd respond that way. I know many people like you. A good friend of mine, for example."

Loki frowned and bit her tongue.

"People like me?"

"The kind who believe the ends justify the means and rarely consider themselves to be wrong."

That's not true, Loki thought. I question myself all the time.

"That can be a strength in a world like ours, but not just a strength," Myrddin continued. "I'm not going to lecture you on right and wrong. I'm going to talk to you about logic. Just listen to me for a couple of minutes and then draw whatever conclusions you want."

Taylor took a seat, staring at him. Okay. Anyway, you're my boss, she thought.

"What do you know about Glaistig Uaine?" Myrddin asked.

Loki tensed a little. She didn't understand what this had to do with her, but she answered honestly.

"I've heard a little about her. Everyone was scared shitless when she took out Greyboy, but then she was captured easily."

"Yeah, well…" Myrddin sighed and shook his head. "That's just the official story. Glaistig Uaine wasn't captured. She turned herself in."

Loki frowned even more. She didn't know, nor did she need to know, how people lived locked up in the Birdcage. She knew enough for it to be obvious that it was a hell on earth and was surprised that anyone would want to go there voluntarily, under any circumstances. She would certainly prefer death to that confinement.

"You must think she's crazy, and she is, but that was a calculated, extremely logical move. Who do you think benefits from the existence of the Birdcage?"

For Taylor, it was another sudden, disorienting change of subject. But she kept quiet and listened, waiting to hear the meaning of all this.

"After all, if it were about justice, it would be easier and more humane to just shoot them. The answer is that we need strong parahumans for emergencies, not dead ones."

'Emergencies.' They hadn't taken anyone out of the Birdcage, not even for the worst battles with the Endbringers. Although, on the other hand, they never had much warning. If that wasn't a sufficient emergency, if that wasn't what justified the Birdcage's existence, according to the wizard, then what was?

"The most powerful concentration of villains in the world, no question," he continued, "just waiting for a crisis desperate enough for the gates to open. And Glaistig Uaine is in there, unable to die, impossibly patient, growing stronger with every death."

"With every death?" Taylor repeated as if she had misheard, as if hoping she had.

But, of course, she had heard every word perfectly and already had a terrible idea of what it could mean.

"Her power, her true power, allows her to absorb the powers of fallen parahumans. The Birdcage was created with good intentions, no doubt. It's true that it's not in our interest for such powerful parahumans to die, not with our world on the brink of a precipice. Not unless it's strictly necessary. It's also true that it wasn't in our interest to set the precedent of letting the government execute parahumans just like that. But it could be what destroys us."

Myrddin rose from his seat, picked up his staff, and began to pace around the table with his eyes fixed on her the entire time, the wood echoing against the floor, marking his steps.

"So I won't appeal to morality, Taylor. I won't tell you what's right or what's wrong. I'll just ask you to use your head, lest you create a problem you can't solve with the same cunning that created it. That's all. You can go."

Taylor said nothing. There was nothing to say. She inclined her head slightly as a sign of respect. Mostly because she felt she should do something like that, though she wasn't sure why. And then she just left.

Anyway, she had a lot to think about.

Chapter Text

Taylor couldn't get her conversation with Myrddin, with her new boss, out of her head. He was a much more intelligent man than the last one, not to mention persuasive. He had talked in circles, but the moral of the story boiled down to the methods being as important as the results.

Before, she honestly would have laughed at that. After all, doing things the way they were supposed to be done hadn't done her any good. In Winslow, in fact, her life had only improved when she had started to break the rules, to ignore them completely.

And that was the crux of the matter. Taylor wanted to make things better, not just be part of the problem. The rules were all well and good, but before she arrived, the Brockton Bay Protectorate not only had a villain in their midst, but one who had no intention of reforming. A wild dog on a leash.

Protocol and doing the right thing had only led them to look the other way for Sophia's sake, while other people suffered in her place: her own family and, most importantly, herself. It wasn't selfish to say that her own pain was the most important thing. It was human.

In short, she had very personal and very recent examples of the benefits of breaking the rules, of forgetting the methods and focusing on the results. So she would have laughed, but the way he had expressed his point had struck a deep chord with her.

Perhaps because she also had a recent example: Glaistig Uaine. She had looked at all the publicly available information on her, the Fairy Queen. According to Myrddin, and she had no reason to doubt it, the woman had turned the Birdcage into her personal banquet. Every day she grew stronger, a potential threat that could compete with the current S-class threats. It might even be possible for her to become an even greater monster.

Besides, if Myrddin was telling the truth, then her power basically made her a better Eidolon, same as him but without the randomness. The Fairy Queen could choose; of course, she was limited to the powers of dead parahumans, but her options were expanding every day, and they sent the most powerful villains to that hole, straight into her arms. That danger had been a completely unforeseen result of trying to do things right. And her revenge, her just revenge… that didn't mean she regretted it, of course. But Taylor had almost been shot and killed by Emma, who had felt cornered even though she hadn't even been her direct target.

Unforeseen consequences. That was always a danger.

Myrddin hadn't spoken to her of feelings or vacuous morality; he had spoken of logic, of the inevitable, and that was why she had understood, or at least was beginning to understand, what he wanted from her. It didn't mean she was going to become a little worker bee, just another drone, but she thought she was starting to get it.

Myrddin might not have been right, but he wasn't wrong either. That was the thing, he wasn't wrong either.

What did that mean for her?

Well, she thought, only time would tell.

Danny was gathering the plates to wash them. Loki watched him in silence and then helped in gathering them and carrying them to the kitchen. Along the way…

"Dad."

"Is something wrong?" he asked without turning around.

They reached the kitchen. The sound of the tap opening, the running water, was almost as loud… it seemed almost as loud as her heartbeat. Even though they were in the middle of the city, it was a fairly quiet house, a fairly quiet space. As if they were the only people living for miles around. A little piece of paradise, so different from the streets where she had grown up, always noisy, full of stains, both literally and figuratively.

"No, no," Taylor said. "It's just… you're free this afternoon, right? Could we go somewhere?"

Danny looked at her, though he didn't stop washing the dishes. He seemed vaguely surprised. Her stomach churned, thinking about when the last time she had offered something like that had been. Though she already knew. Before the accident, she thought, that was for sure.

"Okay, what do you have in mind?"

"Well, I don't know…" Her voice sounded vulnerable, young. Fuck, she was young, when had she forgotten that? "Anywhere. We should do this more often. That's all."

Danny nodded slowly, something like shame in his eyes. He looked away immediately.

"That's true. I'm sorry, I… I try."

Then, Taylor made one of the hardest confessions of her life.

"I know. But you don't have to be the only one, it can't work like that."

The plain truth.

It's not just your fault. It never was.

She didn't know if it would do any good in the end, but at least it was a step forward. That had to count for something.

Taylor went with her father through the city, exploring Chicago, so different from Brockton Bay and yet so similar in some ways. Good feelings. Perhaps not all memories were bad. They went for a drink, for a walk, to see a movie. Nothing special, or at least it shouldn't have been special, but they had talked more during her hospital stay than they had in years. Longer, more freely and honestly. And this was something they hadn't done in years.

She understood it now, too. Things weren't how she had thought they were for a long time. Danny hadn't done everything he could have, but he wasn't the only one who had failed. She had failed him too, as a daughter. This was good, maybe it didn't heal, maybe it couldn't change enough, but… it shouldn't have taken so long for things to get back on track after the accident. They should have done it a long time ago.

They should have done it a long time ago.

And yet, something like a cage was closing around her. She couldn't help but think: I don't deserve this. Yes, just like the real reason that had driven her to refuse Panacea's offer.

As if she wanted to punish herself.

With a pass and a smile, Loki entered the dungeons. She strolled among the cells until she found the only one that was occupied, for now. She dragged a chair right in front of it, fearless, positioning herself within the prisoner's reach, knowing full well she could handle anything that happened, but that nothing would. After all, on the other side of the bars was nothing more than a brat. You could tell, even with the cheap costume and the mask that covered everything but the holes for his nose, eyes, and mouth. He was nothing more than a stupid kid, brought here by a series of bad decisions.

He returned her gaze, defiant. He must have been wondering who she was and what the hell she was doing here. Fair enough, that was just.

"I've heard about you," Loki said. "You tried to rob a bank all by yourself. Audacious. And you got pretty far, too, huh?"

The boy didn't play along. He got straight to the point.

"Who are you?"

"New in town. They haven't had the decency to introduce me yet." Loki brought a finger to her lips, as if it were a secret. "Call me Loki."

"Did you come here to make fun of me?"

"You caught my eye, that's all." Loki shook her head, almost amused by his immediate hostility and how fragile his tough-guy act was. They weren't that far apart in age, but he seemed like nothing more than a child in her eyes.

"I don't want to be anyone's sideshow either."

"Understandable," Loki smiled. "Tell me, why did you do it?"

The boy took a step back. He grimaced quite obviously, even through the mask. He didn't react as if she had slapped him, but worse; as if that question was the last thing he had expected. She supposed that was the case. After all, he was already caught; he didn't need to confess. So even a brainless brat must have known she was asking out of interest, not for any case. And yet…

"Do you even care?"

"Yes." Loki didn't hesitate. Honesty wasn't so bad, from time to time. "I know it's not money, or drugs or mental problems. Apparently, you're just a normal kid. So, why? When they discover they have powers," she shrugged, "most kids would think about playing hero, not robber."

She herself had thrown herself down a path of vengeance, but well, as she said. She wasn't normal.

"Heroes ain't shit," the boy snapped.

Oh, that was interesting, Loki thought. Maybe related to his trigger event. Maybe related to real heroes, not-so-heroic ones like Sophia.

Taylor suppressed a grimace. She had decided to bury the past, but it kept resurfacing in her thoughts like an island on the horizon. A deserted island that had almost taken everything from her, but from which she could not leave.

"Most of them aren't, no. But yes. What's your point?"

The boy got up from the bed and approached the bars.

Loki didn't blink. She didn't think he would get aggressive, or try anything. It wouldn't matter if he did. The boy gripped the bars. His fists trembled.

No, he wasn't just a boy. She knew his name perfectly well. Both his costumed name and his real name. Alex. I have to do better, she thought.

"That the bad guys aren't so bad either. And I'm sick of being stepped on."

"Oh?"

Chapter Text

"Alan Gramme, for example."

Loki raised an eyebrow behind her mask.

"Seriously? Your best example is a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine?"

The boy had the decency to look ashamed, even. But in the end, he just shrugged.

"Why not? Everyone thinks he's a monster. And he is. But how much of a choice did he have? He's a victim of the Simurgh."

Loki couldn't say he was wrong. Mannequin was definitely a monster, dedicated to making others' lives worse, to making people like the hero he once was fail—the kind of people who had heart and used their skills not for personal gain, but to try and forge a better world. However, it was true that Mannequin had been the Simurgh's creation, an even greater monster who played with human hearts and controlled destinies.

"How much of it was his fault?"

That was a good question. Yes, sir. She didn't know how to answer it and was in no hurry to find out.

The kid pulled her from her thoughts in a very simple way: he kept talking.

"Or Bonesaw, for example."

Wow… she thought. This gets worse every time he opens his mouth.

"What if those psychopaths," he continued, "got to her when she was little, and that's why she stays young? Maybe they tortured her until she had a Trigger Event, maybe they just kidnapped her when she was a kid."

Taylor couldn't have known, but that had never occurred to her. That Bonesaw might have a better reason for being young, for keeping the appearance of a little girl, than most people assumed. A kind of strange obsession with a stolen youth. The will of one little girl against nine psychopaths—eight, perhaps, depending on how many members had been alive back then. But that wasn't the point.

"The point is, it's something that can happen to anyone," Alex went on. "But you have to go to some pretty dark forums for anyone to be willing to admit that maybe you're not completely wrong."

"I guess I understand," Loki replied, even though she understood him perfectly. Not very well-articulated, because he's just a brat with very little life experience, but well enough. "To a certain extent. But I suggest you find better examples. Otherwise, it's no wonder people look at you like you're a lunatic."

Alex fell back, dropping onto the bed.

"Okay. For every villain who's in it for greed, pride, or power, how many superheroes are in it for the same reasons? And how many villains are villains because they have no better options in life?"

Once again, he wasn't wrong. Supervillains were just criminals with powers. And regular criminals didn't just spring out of nowhere. No one just woke up one day and decided to be evil for the sake of it. There was always a reason, even if you couldn't see the thread connecting it all. Most thugs were products of a broken system; there was no magic button. And plenty of heroes could definitely be sons of bitches. She knew that better than most people. Or so she thought.

Alex swallowed hard. He looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"It's so easy, so easy to help the people who don't need help."

The clumsy words of a meddling brat trembling in a cell. And yet… Loki crossed her arms. She couldn't just dismiss him, turn her back on him. After all…

"Ah, I see," Loki said.

"What do you see?" the other boy practically spat, defiant, as he curled in on himself. He seemed to be waiting for a blow.

She supposed that, in a way, her answer would be one.

"A mirror," Loki replied simply.

She left with those words, offering no explanation, but she returned the next day. Nothing was settled yet, and they had plenty of time to talk at length. Because Alex, well, he was just sitting right here, waiting for his trial. He wasn't going anywhere.

Loki sat down nearby again, dragging a chair right up to the bars, almost as if daring him to act. But the goddess of lies wasn't here to play any tricks, ironically. She hoped he wouldn't treat it as one, that he wouldn't do anything stupid.

Loki didn't even greet him. She got straight to the point.

"You're not wrong."

"About what?"

Ah, so he'd lost the thread. Fine, okay.

"It's easy to help the people who don't need it, while the ones who truly do need it fall through the cracks all too often. I was there for a long time, in the dark, between the cracks."

Loki brought a hand to her simple white mask, as if to take it off, but she didn't. In fact, she did nothing. She just left her hand there, thoughtfully.

"No one wanted to help me, and I didn't have the strength to help myself. Until one day, everything changed."

What a way to oversimplify things, she thought. But it was the truth. She hoped it would mean something. She hoped she wasn't just wasting her time, her breath.

"Really?" Alex asked. "It's hard to imagine you…"

The boy fell silent, probably not out of embarrassment, but because he couldn't find the right words. So Loki gave them to him.

"As a victim?"

It sounded like a question, but it wasn't really. She had him pegged. Alex nodded.

"Hard to picture you cowering from anything, but yeah."

Loki just shrugged.

"Things change."

A great truth. Things change. People, probably not. Despite how drastically she seemed to have changed, Loki still wasn't sure if it had been a true change, or if her new self had always been there, inside, somewhere, beating, waiting for the right moment to burst out. Nothing more.

"Come with me. Join the Wards," Loki said, before she could think better of it.

Funnily enough, the boy still reacted as if she had slapped him.

"Why would I do that? Even if they'd let me?"

It had been a spontaneous offer, an impulse, really. But suddenly, Taylor understood. All the pieces clicked into place. Or maybe, it was better to say they had been right there from the beginning. She was only looking in a mirror, after all.

"Why? Because right now, all you're doing is helping people resign themselves, making them believe more firmly that sometimes it's true—that there is no other choice."

The boy wasn't completely lost. To his credit, he hung his head in shame.

"'It's easy to help the people who don't need help,'" Taylor repeated. "The people who will throw you in jail and keep the key if you go on like this, right? Well then, be better."

Maybe those were just the words she herself wanted to hear. In any case, Alex stared at her, his eyes wide, as if they were popping out of their sockets, as if she had made some kind of revelation. But it was no revelation. It was something they both should have known already. And Taylor knew it. Yes, now she truly understood.

"You look like a weight's been lifted off your shoulders," her father said.

She wasn't doing anything, just watching a movie. At home, not in a theater. Taylor thought about it. She considered what to tell him and concluded that there was no need to go into detail—not to lie to him, but just because.

"Something like that," she said finally. "It's like I can breathe easier."

Daniel just nodded.

"I'm glad. It's about time."

"It's true."

Only by conquering herself could she walk into the future. Things would be better now. They had to be. She had the feeling that everything was back on track. It wouldn't be the first time she was wrong, but hey, she was allowed to be optimistic, to hold on to hope. That wasn't delusional; it was human.

"Why are you so interested in that boy?"

The next session inevitably turned to Alex as soon as she had another fit of honesty. She should have kept her mouth shut, but she figured it was okay.

"I guess something tells me I could have ended up the same way," Taylor replied. "Besides, isn't it the right answer? What a hero is supposed to do?"

She shrugged. "Isn't that enough?"

Myrddin, looking down at her as he floated some thirty feet above the ground, crossed his legs. "I only asked you a question, Taylor. I'm not here to judge you or to tell you no."

However, something told her…

"Is it enough for you?" the psychologist asked, looking at her as if she already knew the answer.

Taylor suppressed the urge to click her tongue, another small act of rebellion that meant nothing in the end.

"What do I know?" She shrugged. "We're just going around in circles."

Maybe the woman was a consummate professional and the only person who could even help her, but that didn't change how she felt. So, so many circles just to end up in the same place. She couldn't see a path forward, a simple straight hallway. Maybe this was what life was, forever and ever. Going around in circles, forever and always.

"I have a feeling there's a 'but' coming," Taylor said.

"Because you're very distrustful. You'd never believe an unconditional yes."

She really didn't like it when someone was right. Of course, an unconditional yes was hard to accept. The world didn't work that way. There might be exceptions, but they were just that: exceptions. Besides, what really bothered her…

"I haven't been here that long and you already think you know me."

"You remind me of an old friend, as I said, and of myself. That's all."

"I should try harder to pretend otherwise, because I know this is just earning me more sessions."

In fact, that had been the plan at first. She thought she could realistically be done with this in maybe three months, perhaps. But at some point, she had gotten bored of playing the game. It had happened very quickly, in fact.

"But I feel like this is a complete waste of time, and I can't help it."

What did she expect the psychologist to say? Nothing, she supposed. That's just how it was. It couldn't be helped. Really.

"It certainly will be if you keep refusing to let me help you," the psychologist said. "But I'll do what I can, because I'm on your side. Someone has to reach out, even if you try your hardest to push them away. Besides…"

Taylor took a deep breath. Somehow, she sensed a gut punch was coming. Her premonition couldn't have been more accurate.

"Isn't that what Emma used to do, back when you were happy with your life?"

Taylor's expression darkened as she shrank in on herself. She suddenly looked like another person, a ghost. For a moment, she almost considered getting up and leaving the room, but only for a moment.

"I never pushed her away," Taylor replied. "We were like sisters." Yes, Emma had been attached to her hip, and she to Emma's, for as long as she could remember. "But I see what you mean," she admitted in the end.

The psychologist nodded.

"The problem is you don't believe me. Not yet. That's normal. But you have to at least let me try. Otherwise, none of this can work out."

Let me try. She talked about it as if it were so easy, like flipping a switch. If it were within her power, she would have done it already. Now, she just wanted to be okay. That was the truth.

Her head was throbbing. She brought a hand to her temples, massaging them as best she could. It felt as if most of the blood in her body was concentrating in her head, and that sooner or later, it would explode.

"Are you sure about this?" Tecton asked. Everett, that is. They weren't talking in the middle of a mission or at the Wards headquarters, just at his house.

Of course, she hadn't come alone. Everyone else was at the house, too. It was a small party celebrating her slow but steady recovery and her first mission in the field. It was nothing major, nothing so dangerous that someone else couldn't have handled it, but it was her first mission with the Chicago Wards, side by side, after all.

"He didn't cross any lines," Everett continued, "but he came close. Five injured cops. There's a lot of rage in that boy."

Broken bones, minor burns. Caused by his powers, yes—she'd seen the photos and recordings, too.

She knew exactly what he was talking about. She always did. But she couldn't blame him for being concerned. Besides, that wasn't the real issue, deep down. She suspected there was something more.

"I think he deserves a chance," Loki said.

The boy shrugged and took another sip of his Coke.

"I'm not here to tell you no, Taylor. It's not even my decision. It's just that…"

"What? Say it."

"No, no." He waved a hand dismissively. "Things are going well with you. I don't want to piss you off."

"Well, now you've just piqued my curiosity."

Now she had to hear it. No matter what. Everett sighed and glanced down the hall, as if hoping the others would return from the patio and save him from an awkward conversation. But, from the sounds of it, they were quite entertained and in no hurry.

"Look, everything that happened before this, before Chicago…" He set his Coke on the table. "Do you really want to give a chance to someone who flirts with taking justice into his own hands, after what happened with Sophia?"

Taylor fell silent. That had never occurred to her. She hadn't seen Sophiain the boy, but herself. Still, she supposed she could understand. She could see why he thought that. She had to admit he wasn't far off the mark.

"Yes," said Loki.

"Why? It's none of my business, but…"

Loki was silent for a long time. She knew the answer perfectly well. It wasn't complicated at all. But in the end, she chickened out, because new beginnings were never completely new. And it was no use trying to bury everything that had happened if she confessed something he couldn't possibly understand.

"I couldn't say."

But the answer was so, so obvious. Damn it, so obvious. But of course, the truth wasn't in any report. The truth was something only she…

Sophia and she knew.

Taylor washed her face. Then she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked tired, as usual, but it wasn't the exhaustion she'd had in Brockton Bay, at Winslow, before her powers, back when she had been powerless. The kind of exhaustion that came from feeling miserable for a long time, from feeling and knowing there was no escape. This was just normal tiredness. A not-getting-enough-sleep kind of tiredness. Well, there were other reasons too, of course, but that was the main one.

Outside, the Chicago Wards—the rest of them, that is—were getting ready for Alex's initiation. She had convinced the boy right away. The rest had been talking to her superiors. And then, of course, the damn paperwork, which always took the longest. But in the end, her efforts had paid off. He was going to get a second chance.

At that moment, Annette appeared in the mirror. Taylor smiled sadly, as if she'd seen it coming.

"There you are, of course. You'll always be there, but I don't need a ghost. I think maybe I can manage on my own. Maybe I can learn to be okay."

The specter smiled and then disappeared, though certainly not forever. It would get easier, over time, to bear it. It was supposed to. It had to be that way.

Let's see if I deserve a second chance, she thought, turning around. She opened the bathroom door. Instantly, the noise from the Wards preparing for Alex's initiation grew louder. She felt more welcome now than she had at her own initiation. In a way, she was. After all, she was part of them now, not a stranger, not a newcomer.

"Come on, Taylor, get over here," said Katherine, beckoning her over.

She did. Family, friends—a lot of things she had believed she didn't deserve, that weren't for her anymore. She couldn't say she had gotten it all back, but at least she had a chance. And now a protégé, codenamed Thor.

The name was a natural fit for the boy's powers, but it was also a pretty obvious way to tie him to her in the public eye. If things went wrong, the Protectorate would get a ton of shit, but some of it would splash onto her, too, because they were a duo. Maybe she was being paranoid, but it seemed like a way to make sure she'd pay if her idea went south.

And it was possible, very possible, that believing in Alex would turn out to be a bad decision. It was very possible that in the end, she would think she shouldn't have let him into her life, shouldn't have cared so much, instead of just watching from the sidelines.

But she looked around, looked at… well, at her friends. She had hope. And maybe that was all that was needed.

A spark of hope and a heart open to the future.

END

Author's Note

Sorry to anyone who was expecting a big twist or something like that. I don't plan things out in excessive detail, but I always start from the end and work my way backward. The final scene of Auvers Blue was the planned ending and the reason for the story's title. This epilogue was just more of the character study, which may or may not have resonated with you.

I ran out of my backlog right away, so this became a fun weekly challenge for quite some time.

I hope that those of you who made it this far enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. "The Adventures of Loki and Thor" doesn't sound like a bad idea for a sequel someday, but heh, nobody would want to read about an OC.