Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Miss, can you hear me?" was the first thing Taylor heard as she regained consciousness. She was sitting down. She had a bitch of a headache. And a hot guy in a lion themed costume, Triumph, was trying to get her attention with a pen light.

Taylor flinched as her headache throbbed from the light. "Get that fucking light out of my eyes," she groused. Looking around, she noticed the ratty stage she was on. Other capes were around her on the stage. They looked uncomfortable, awkward, none more so than Gallant. Gallant had one armored leg speared through the stage. Assault and a uniformed trooper were attempting to fish him out. And Taylor took a fraction of a second to check out Assault's ass in his costume. Battery, Clockblocker, Vista, and Shadow Stalker were lined up towards the back of the stage. Clockblocker was giggling and making some joke, apparently at Gallant's expense. Vista's eye roll was visible despite her visor. Shadow Stalker at the end of the line was silent, staring at her. Battery had the microphone.

"Before we move the show along," Battery said to the crowd, "Triumph is going to administer a field concussion check. So please be patient while we check on your classmate. Triumph, if you would?"

Still kneeling in front of her but thankfully now lightless, Triumph gestured for her attention. "Okay Miss, can you follow my finger? No flashlight, promise."

"Whatever," Taylor muttered. She took note of the crowd in the gym behind Triumph before actually complying.

Triumph moved his hand up, down, left, and right while he started asking questions, "Okay Miss, you're doing great. Now, can you tell me your name?"

Taylor took her eyes off his bicep to glare at him.

"It's for the concussion check, Miss," Triumph said, continuing, "You took a hit to the head. I need to check cognitive function to be sure you don't need medical attention."

Taylor rolled her eyes before saying, "Taylor Hebert."

"Good," Triumph said before asking, "And do you know where you are?"

Taylor barely took a moment before answering, "That stupid fucking pep rally with the Wards." The damn thing was supposed to be about her anyway.

Triumph, oblivious, just kept going, "And where is that pep rally?"

Taylor gave Triumph a glare while she took stock of her bugs, "We're in the gym, duh. No other room in this school is big enough." She took stock of the crowd at last. Yup. Those were certainly the shithead classmates she knows from Winslow. There were Julie, Madison, and Emma in the front row next to some guys from the football team. Some girl was hiding from the jocks on the other side of Julie. Coach "I-Can't-Believe-He's-Not-Himler" was watching the doors, a gimlet eye aimed at some Asian student with barely concealed red and green gang colors. Ms. Yakuza was seated just behind exactly those so-totally-not-ABB-Gangbangers aiming an equally hateful glare at the all white football players behind Coach. Mr. Blanche must have been cooking meth again in the back of the shop. Taylor didn't even need to turn around to see Blackwell clenching her hands again. Taylor wondered what she'd try to cook up to blame this on her, implausible that it may be. But Taylor didn't see Gladly anywhere. …Because she found two adults who could only be Gladly and a strange woman engaged in…relations in a nearby classroom. Taylor could pick up Gladly's cologne through the bugs. And…why did that lady's hair smell like Madison's shampoo? Wait…was that…Madison's…mother?! She poorly suppressed a shudder.

"You alright, Miss Hebert?" Triumph asked.

"Just a gross thought," Taylor answered quickly.

Battery stepped up towards the pair with the microphone, "Okay, it seems Miss Hebert here is fine. So we can move this along." Battery said into the mic as she approached, now within arm's reach of Taylor and Triumph. As Triumph rose, she gestured for Taylor to also get up.

"Riiiight," Taylor drawled, "back to this farce. Bet you don't even know who this is about," she groused at the end.

Shadow Stalker interjected, "Why don't you go back to your seat, Hebert?"

The swivel was slow as she turned a glare at Shadow Stalker. Taylor growled, "Mo. Ther. Fucker!" Taylor knew that voice. She knew that tone. She'd heard it often enough. And taking stock again, she didn't pick up on Sophia anywhere else in the crowd or the grounds near the gym. And right there, in front of her, was the voice of her tormentor.

Battery dropped the arm with the microphone away from her mouth in order to tell Shadow Stalker to let her handle things. But she never gets to deliver her message. Taylor took the opportunity to snatch the microphone from Battery in that inattentive moment. With a spin to face the other capes, Taylor asked, "So, I bet you're wondering why I've brought you all here today!" The capes all looked at Taylor, a little dumbfounded. Battery took a step towards Taylor, hand outstretched to reclaim the microphone.

"Okay hun, very funny. Maybe you should give me back the microphone," Battery said.

Taylor retreated to the edge of the stage. "No, really," she said as she hopped off the edge of the stage without looking. "Oh? Don't you know why you're here?" She asked the assembled capes back on the stage.

"Bullying?" Gregg Veder shouted from the stands.

Still backing away even after stepping off the stage, Taylor continued, "That's right, Gregg…but no points. So who was bullied? It can't be everyone here. So who was it? Who got fucked over so hard that Mrs. Corruption over there had to call in Protectorate support just to keep her job?" Taylor asked with a grand gesture at Principal Blackwell. "Don't know? Let's ask the audience!" And it was at this moment, Sophia knew she fucked up. Taylor spun away from the stage to where the group of girls in Emma's orbit was sitting, eventually zeroing in on the Jewish girl using Emma's group as a shield. "You there! You must know what all this is about. All of us students know! So, pop quiz. Why did they do all…this?" Taylor asked with a grand gesture at the gym.

The poor girl, Charlotte if Taylor remembered correctly, looked like she'd rather be impaled by the Neo Nazis on the other side of Emma, Dracula style, than answer this. "Uhm," Charlotte stalled for time as she tried in vain to think of a way to get the clearly far past her breaking point Taylor away without angering the Queen Bitch sitting two seats away from her, "the…locker?" She hesitated in the middle of her sentence, still trying to find a way out of answering the simple question.

Taylor grinned at Charlotte, then continued her questioning. "What happened with the locker?"

Only Emma decided to put Taylor in her place by standing up again to try to get in Taylor's space, saying, "Nobody wants to listen to your attention seeking, Taylor."

Taylor's head swiveled to level a glare at her former best friend. "Ex-fucking-scuse me?" She asked, turning fully to stalk up to her former friend. "Did I say it was your turn, ginger bitch? I will get to you in all due time, traitor. So sit that fat ass back down and wait. Your. turn!" Taylor was fully in Emma's face by the end of her rant. Her full height loomed over Emma. And Emma did, in fact, sit back down. "Good girl! Well…no, not good. But that's beside the point." Taylor stepped back over to where Charlotte was sitting. "So Charlotte, you remember what happened in The Locker Incident?"

By this point, Charlotte noticed a few PRT troopers quietly positioning themselves to retake the microphone and get the 'obviously out of control teen' back under control. So she decided to stall for some time by feeding a few answers into the microphone under her nose, "Uhm…they…uhm…put someone in a locker."

"Right!" Taylor chirped. "And what else was in that locker with the victim?" Taylor all but accused.

Charlotte's eyes darted back over to Emma's entourage, "Uhm," she stalled for more time, "t…tampons and…pads and stuff." She finally finished. The closer trooper paused at the detail.

Taylor's grin only widened as she continued, "Were those fresh, clean tampons and pads?" before shoving the microphone back under Charlotte's nose.

Charlotte darted her eyes to the now waiting trooper before answering, "No. They were used…dirty…uhm…and…old." The closer trooper was clearly a woman if the flinch was any indication.

"That's disgusting," Vista exclaimed from the stage.

"It is disgusting!" Taylor turned to respond to Vista's statement and followed up with ease before turning back to the audience and Charlotte. "Bloody, rotten, disgusting used tampons, pads, and wipes. So Charlotte, next question. Who put it all together? Three names, Charlotte. We all know who was behind it. So just spill it out." She shoved the microphone back into Charlotte's face again.

This was it for Charlotte. No going back. No more time to stall, either. "M…Madison Clements," Charlotte mumbled into the microphone. She was going to go on to the next person, but a trooper attempted to grab Taylor's shoulder. Only Taylor smoothly dodged the armored trooper with ease.

"It's time to give it up, Miss," the trooper chided Taylor.

But before Taylor could retort, Charlotte found her courage. Her social suicide was already complete. So she decided to take the three queens of the school with her. "Sophia Hess," she continued. The trooper stopped before he could get to his next point. He recognized that name. It was Shadow Stalker's civilian name. But…it couldn't be.

Taylor stepped back up to Charlotte and held out the microphone. "Could you say that again to the crowd?"

Charlotte gulped and repeated herself, "Sophia Hess." The troopers that had been approaching Taylor both turned to look at the stage, at the Wards, at Sophia. They covered their near slip by touching their radios and speaking quietly.

"One more name, Charlotte," Taylor continued. "Who was the ringleader?"

With one last sigh, Charlotte completed her social suicide, "Emma Barnes."

"Great job Charlotte," Taylor beamed in complete defiance to the distress she was causing. "So just one. Last. Question. Who got shoved into that rotten, disgusting mess? Hmm? Who is 'The Locker Girl?'"

Charlotte was out of hesitation by this point. "You are," she sighed into the microphone.

"Thaaaaaat's riiiiiiiiiiiiiight!" Taylor exclaimed.

Meanwhile, back on the stage, the capes and troopers were talking amongst themselves over what happened.

Assault asked, "What the hell did you shoot her with, Gallant?"

"Confidence!" he retorted from where his foot was impaled through the stage.

Clockblocker gestured at the ranting Taylor, "Yeah? Well you created a monster."

"No," Triumph interrupted, "he just woke it up." The Wards looked at their recently graduated leader. "Hebert, as in Danny Hebert. I know her father," Triumph said by way of explanation. "He's up at da-the mayor's office at least once a week. And this," Triumph gestured at Taylor's ranting, "is exactly something he would have done."

Before they could continue, Taylor spun from the audience and interrupted, "And as for you lot of absentee babysitters, none of this would have fucking happened if you could just do your damn jobs! You!" she exclaimed, turning from the general direction of the stage to point at Gallant, "I'm giving you a pass. That stage has been crumbling for years, at least as long as I've been here. Hell, I'm pretty sure it should have been replaced before I was born, just another sin we can lay at Blackwell's feet." Taylor rested her hand on her hip to continue. "But I'm not sure she wouldn't sell those out for a bit more funding, not that any of it makes it into this place. But your people still should have checked the damn stage over before you let Tin Can Ass there on the stage."

Blackwell stepped forward and said, "Young lady that is more than…" but didn't get to finish.

Taylor interrupted the severe woman, "You don't get to talk, Blackwell!" She continued while stalking towards the blonde principal, "How many of my transfer requests did you throw in the trash? How many of my complaints did you destroy? Do you even know what goes on at this school? Because I can tell you some shit!" Mrs. Blackwell recoiled at the vehement outburst. "Let's start with the outright gangbangers at the school…and their students. Coach Goerring over there is a recruiter for the Empire! A school full of everything and he filled the football team with Hitler Youth. And just look at Team Needledicks over there. You're all so roided out that you are about to start growing tits! Some of you already are! …Except for Tim. Good on you, Tim. Just keep saying no. Not like those roids are helping them win anyway. And maybe this way, you keep a scholarship past the first round of drug tests." Ms. Yakuza lets out a bark of laughter. "Oh don't go laughing just yet! I don't know how you convinced those yakuza wannabes that you were worth more than your holes! Because how, how the fuck do you make Titus Andronicus boring? It's the Shakespear murder play. And you managed to fuck that up! You'd think that covering for the Christmas Gang all the time would let you know what they like. Mrs. Knott…thank you for not sucking as much as these two clowns." Taylor sighed. "Now…do I start with the worst crimes or least crimes?" She feels around with her bugs for a bit. "Well to start, Quinlan is running the gambling ring here. I mean…good on him for putting that math degree to use twice. But does he have to fuck over literal teenagers?" Taylor sighed at her own question, then moved on with her rant. "Mr. Blanch is cooking meth in the shop right now."

A shout of "What?!" echoed from both Coach Swastika and Ms. Yakuza. Apparently, the chemistry teacher had been suspended pending investigation into some missing chemical supplies… that were being stolen by the meth cooking shop teacher. Taylor thought that bit over while the two teachers stomped towards the shop class, out to avenge their colleague…who brought them cookies.

One of the PRT troopers stepped forward to speak, "Excuse me miss, but can you verify where that is?"

Taylor pointed and said, "Shop building, next building over." The troopers left to go intercept the two teachers on a warpath as Taylor continued. "Okay who's next? Gladly! Gladly is next, the pervert."

At Emma's prodding, Madison stood up to shout, "Hey! Gladly's a cool teacher!"

Taylor just glared at Madison for a moment before saying, "Gladly is fucking your mother, shitlips!" Taylor then pointed in the opposite direction from the shop building. "He's in a room, right now, taking your mother to POUND TOWN!"

Madison did her best deer impression, "Mommy?"

Meanwhile, Taylor rubbed her temple and said, "I guess he got tired of waiting for the jailbait to take his bait." She shuddered after finishing her muttering. "Not that you'd know what to do with him, despite what people say about you." Madison just stared, doing an impressive goldfish. "Oh? You didn't hear those? Well, a lot of that bullshit that Emma's hangers on say about me…I've heard from other people…about you. It's how I know you bitches are full of shit. Tim from the football team bragged about getting a blowjob from you when both of us were in class. I hear shit that you all don't. You have the looks. I don't. So I get a variety of insults." Of note is that Tim is actually gay and very much in the closet as a matter of self-preservation. Joining the football team was a matter of protection. It helped that Tim is a damn good wide receiver, no pun intended.

Gregg jumped up and in, "You do too have the looks!"

Taylor pointed at Gregg, "Flattery won't get you anywhere Gregg. My answer is and will remain no." Gregg sat back down. Looking about the crowded gym, Taylor said, "So which oh which is the next bitch? Oh! Sophia, the fucking coward! Because it wasn't enough for you to ruin my life. No, you had to hide behind every teacher, every excuse you could find!" Taylor makes a show of looking through the audience before announcing, "Shit…I don't even see her here!" And she turns to glare past the troopers and Assault finally getting Gallant free and right at Shadow Stalker, "She can't even face me when she doesn't have any excuses, anyone keeping me from getting to her. It's fucking pathetic!"

As Taylor let herself turn back to the crowd, Sophia could only think one thing, "Oh shit! She knows!"

Unbeknownst to Sophia, the PRT troopers and capes present had also noticed Taylor giving Sophia the stink eye and recognized the message. So as she looked around for an excuse to take Taylor down, Assault clapped a hand down on her shoulder, having left the troopers once Gallant's leg was freed. Assault said, "Miss, maybe it's time for us to get this show rolling."

He was going to continue. But Taylor interrupted, "Oh so the babysitters want to do their jobs now, right when I have something to say about you all?" Assault's glance at Battery said far more than he intended.

Triumph tried to salvage the situation, "Taylor, I know you're upset. But I think you've made your point."

Taylor laughed at Triumph, "Oh so that's how it is!" She glanced around at the crowd of sharks, smelling blood. "Richie Rich couldn't be bothered to come down from your tower until one of us commoners gets uppity. No, you couldn't just do your damn jobs and deal with the armed gangbangers in the school, right in front of you. No, you couldn't arrest the drug pushers and kidnappers. No! No! I'm the fucking problem here! Because unlike them, I can actually touch you! Fuck you! Do you know how many times I've seen a PRT van going by my house in the past year? ONE! All you lot do is stay safe, leave the poor parts of town to fend for themselves, and come pick up some gangbangers when it makes you look good for the cameras. You're such a rich kid's club that I wouldn't be surprised if you bought your powers!" At that, Battery, Triumph, and Gallant all flinched. It wasn't visible. But Taylor noticed it all the same, though her bugs. Turning her gimlet eye on the three capes in turn, Taylor said with a troubling calm, "Okay, I think I'm done here. Let's talk, privately now."

Upon entering an empty classroom and closing the door, Taylor turned to Triumph and said, "Tell me you didn't buy your powers. Please."

Triumph couldn't quite meet Taylor's gimlet stare as he said, "Miss, I assure you that I did not buy my powers."

Taylor sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she asked herself, "Why don't I believe you?"

Battery interrupted, "Miss Hebert, can we please focus? You've made some serious allegations. Why don't we start with some questions?" Taylor's eyes narrowed over her hand.

Taylor dropped her clenching fist to her side to ask, "Okay, let's start off with 'How the fuck is this psycho a Ward?" Taylor gestured towards Shadow Stalker.

Battery hesitated, leaving room for Triumph to interject in an attempt to maintain momentum, "Shadow Stalker is on probation."

But Taylor didn't let him continue, "Oh and what did she do?"

Battery tried to stop what was coming with, "Don't!"

Too bad Clockblocker had to interject, "'Pinned a guy to a wall with a crossbow' is the word on the street."

Assault grunted, "Not. Helping. Clock."

Taylor chuckled a bit, "Sounds about right. She's always been a violent thug. Did he live?"

Shadow Stalker growled, "Quit fucking talking about me like I'm not right here!"

Battery once again tried to get the conversation back on track, "Focus please! Miss, you've made some very serious allegations. And we intend to pursue these to the best of our ability. But we need you to cooperate with us."

Taylor crossed her arms over her chest and said, "If you mean 'sign these papers,' then you can get fucked. I'm not signing anything without my father and a lawyer present."

"That!" Triumph started.

But Battery interrupted, "That would be illegal and highly unethical. So if you would please share where we can contact your parents, we can get started."

With her eyes still narrowed, Taylor rattled off a phone number, then finished with, "Ask for Danny." As Assault stepped aside to make the phone call, Taylor continued with a glare, "You guys really fucked this by the numbers, letting one of your Wards get away with shit until someone winds up hospitalized." Battery shifted as if to answer. But Taylor interrupted, before she could speak, "And don't give me that bullshit about how you couldn't have known. Sophia's a violent thug and always has been, apparently even when she's got the mask on."

Battery chuffed once before Assault interrupted from where he was on hold, "I'd like to know, too, Puppy." Battery turned a glare at her husband and got one in answer. "Stalker is supposed to have a handler," he explained before turning back to his phone conversation.

Battery sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and said, "That will be part of the investigation. Now can we please change the subject, at least until counsel gets here?" Everyone looked at each other for a moment.

Triumph raised a hand and said, "Actually, I'd like to know how Stalker still has all her teeth."

Sophia screeched, "The fuck did you say about me!?"

Taylor barked a laugh while Triumph continued, "Well, Danny Hebert is…known for his temper up at City Hall."

Taylor giggled a bit as she started to explain, "Oh I needed that. But no, I wasn't going to give those bitches the satisfaction. I was determined to 'be the better person' for all the good that did me. So I tried to do things 'the right way.' And look how that turned out!" Taylor finished her statement with a grand gesture at the assembled room full of capes.

Gallant finally spoke up, "Triumph, what did you mean 'known for his temper?'"

Triumph, for his part, looked at Taylor for some indication. Whatever help he was hoping to get from Taylor didn't manifest, as Taylor just raised an eyebrow in reply. "Well," he said, "Mr. Hebert is a regular at the City Council meetings. And his shouting matches with…Mayor Christner are pretty infamous. Now…I can't confirm this. But I have heard that he punched Lustrum, back in the day."

Taylor chuckled, then said, "Yeah, sounds like him. I found a jar of teeth in his bedroom that he said were my baby teeth."

"So," Triumph proceeded, "we can assume then from Sophia's glowing smile that he doesn't know all the details of…."

Taylor sighed. "No," she said, hesitating a moment before continuing, "he didn't realize anything was wrong until I got to the hospital. Because God forbid he be a parent right now! Did you know that Victorian men mourned for three months after the death of a spouse? The widows mourned for twenty, which…honestly explains a lot about my parents." She gained a far away look and stared into the distance for a few moments after she finished her tirade.

"Uhm," Gallant ventured, "Are you okay?"

Taylor shook her head and said, "Sorry, just reliving the childhood trauma of realizing my parents had sex."

Vista winced and commiserated, "I'm so sorry."

Clockblocker raised a hand and asked, "Aren't your parents getting divorced?"

Vista growled, "You'd think that would be a problem. But no, no. I never wanted to know what Hate Fucking was. But I've heard it!" She shouted the last part with a stomp of her foot. Everyone winced, even Sophia. And the group lapsed into an awkward silence while everyone tried to think of something else to say.

Triumph mimed rubbing at his temples, since he couldn't reach his actual head under his mask, and said, "You know, this would be great team bonding, if it weren't for…everything else about this situation." Nobody had anything to say to that.

Clockblocker coughed into his fist and then raised a finger to ask, "So I was just wondering something."

Vista interjected, "Clock, please!"

"No no! Honest question, really!" Clockblocker protested. And when nobody stopped him, he continued, "Did you like, see that Gladly guy doing the Horizontal Monster Mash too?"

Battery spoke up, "Clock, don't…."

But Clockblocker didn't stop, "'Cause we were going for like…at least fifteen, twenty minutes before Gallant's misfire." The other capes in the room were looking at each other now.

Taylor groaned.

"And then there was the meth cooking teacher, too!" Clockblocker continued. "He was on the complete other side from the school. You couldn't have seen both…unless…."

Taylor just silently glared at him.

Battery stepped forward and put her hand on Clockblocker's shoulder, "That's enough Clock."

Vista groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose under her visor, "You…really should have shut up about 2 minutes ago."

Clockblocker sputtered, "But…I didn't…. You knew!?" He demanded at the rest of the room.

"Well I do now!" Vista exclaimed.

Battery interrupted the brewing argument, "I suspected. But I wasn't going to mention anything until I could talk to Taylor privately."

"Wait!" Sophia interjected, fists clenching and unclenching on repeat, "You're telling me that Hebert is a fucking cape!"

Battery released Clockblocker to turn on Shadow Stalker, "We are. And you will not say. One. Word about it once you leave this room. You are already in deep shit Stalker! So if you don't want to spend the next forever in a cell, stop digging!"

As Battery faced down the taller girl, Triumph tried to diffuse some of the tension, "So…I suppose that the…Wards pitch is…."

Taylor interrupted him, "You're cute. But I have two words for The Wards right now. 'Get' and I cannot emphasize this enough 'fucked.'"

Battery interrupted her face off with Shadow Stalker to turn and say, "I understand how you must feel right now. But the Wards really are the safest place…."

Whatever she was going to say was lost when Assault called out, "Puppy!" Everyone stopped to turn to the man on the phone. He removed his hand from the microphone briefly to apologize to the person on the other end and say, "Now is not the time. I get it, Puppy, really. But we have a lot of mess to clean up before we can even begin to talk about 'what's best for Taylor.' Sorry Mr. Hebert," before returning to the phone.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Taylor broke in, "Since that cat's already out of the bag, I think I should mention that Blackwell just got to her office and started shredding documents. Maybe somebody should do something about that?" The two adults involved in the conversation stared at her for a moment. So Taylor elaborated, "I can't really read what's on the papers. But I have been filing complaints pretty regularly. And if someone in that office decided to do their job, then that could be a pretty big paper trail…that Blackwell is trying to destroy as we speak. So…you know…go stop her maybe?" Taylor finished her last sentence with a hand rolling 'get on with it' gesture.

Battery looked at Triumph and made an aborted attempt to rub her forehead, "Triumph, go." As the lion bedecked young man left, Batter wondered aloud, "If I wasn't there for the whole thing, I would think this was some kind of plot against us. Some villain is probably watching us and laughing."

Meanwhile at a loft apartment in an old warehouse in the docks, Lisa Wilborn was, in fact, laughing her ass off. When the console at East Northeast had shut down the livestream of the Winslow Wards event, Lisa just had to see what happened. Heaven knew it would be great material if she ever faced down the Wards. And oh boy did she ever get what she was after. And she had to share, "Alec!" She called, "Get in here!"

From the other room, her teammate called, "Lisa, what the fuck are you on about?"

"You wanna watch the Wards get roasted by some random girl?" Lisa offered.

Alec put down the controller and walked to his teammate's "Thinker Cave," with a reply, "Sure." It was as enthusiastic as anything else that came from Alec's mouth. That is, it barely clung onto life.

As Lisa rewound the video, she let the revelations her power fed her filter through her brain. The girl had powers, duh. Pretty sure everyone who worked with capes would spot that. Lisa also clocked Taylor's recognition of Shadow Stalker. And given the PRT's reaction to the name "Sophia Hess," no need to even guess who Shadow Stalker was. "Good to know," Lisa thought to herself. But she also made a mental note to keep this information to herself. Certain groups may play fast and loose with 'The Rules." But when it came to protecting their own, the Protectorate were as vicious as they came. "A lot of things are going to hinge on how the PRT reacts. Wonder if the boss will ask about any of this." In the end, Lisa shrugged and went back to checking for anything interesting on the Winslow cameras. She did come across the football coach and English teacher in handcuffs. A pair of PRT troopers were pulling them apart…from making out again. Lisa shuddered as yet another disturbing fact was injected into her thought process. Her power informed her that the two vigilante teachers were attracted to danger. And apparently, beating on "Eiffel" had let the two bond enough to put aside their enmity towards the other's race.

Meanwhile, Coil was not having a good day. First, he lost his Coil timeline right as that Wards event was starting. And then when he checks on the stream for the Wards event, he realizes that Shadow Stalker had just shit the bed.
"Pickuppickuppickuppickup," he kept his thoughts to himself as the phone went to voicemail for the third time. It wouldn't do to let his composure break right now. His power only just stopped misfiring. He wouldn't normally worry about a Ward's conduct. But Agent Smith was incidentally on his payroll as a low level informant. Information gathering was not a matter of singular, potent sources. It was a matter of steps. One informant gets you cafeteria schedules. Another informant gets you motor pool rotations. A third, most desperate informant sells you the contents of Piggot's office trash. And then you pay someone to assemble a report on the last. Because hell knows you don't want to reassemble shredded documents yourself. The result is a slapdash report that goes in fifteen different directions that can only be read by a highly trained intelligence professional like Coil himself or a lucky teenager with a superpower like Tattletale. The problem with any intelligence network is that any break in your system could possibly compromise the entire network, the weakest link and all that. And Agent Smith was a weak link as of right now. However, she was also off duty today and apparently had her cell phone off. Coil had no doubt that she would be rounded up shortly. And if she was slapdash enough to let Shadow Stalker get away with attempted murder, then she was slapdash enough to keep their communications. He needed to know and right now.
"Has Cauldron decided to burn me?" his traitorous mind provided.

Meanwhile at Cauldron, one woman named Fortuna just had a bit of a shock. You see, she had the power to get spoiler alerts for her own story and do little edits on them to get the ending she wanted. And that nifty little power just had a nasty hiccup. "Why," she thought as she scrambled, "were so many Paths changed all at once?" Taking a deep breath, Fortuna checked each Path for what background condition could have changed. "…Brockton Bay?" She wondered aloud, sheer confusion permeating her voice. Cauldron had that experiment going on in Brockton Bay. But otherwise, she had been hands-off with that, save for their singular knowing contact in the city: Coil. Any way this went, Fortuna was going to have a long, harsh day of scrambling to put things even remotely back on track. Just to reassure herself, Fortuna checked one of her longest term plots. "Path to maintaining Cauldron's integrity," she said. And the Path returned…. "Ten thousand steps?!" she almost shouted. And checking some of the steps…indicated that she would have to burn numerous assets, including Manton, Judge Penderton, Senator Armstrong, and Director Tagg. Oh and there was a deviation to…kill some terrorists in Canada, apparently. She had so much work to do. "Simurgh plot," Fortuna, the Boogeyman of capes thought aloud again, "It has to be a Simurgh plot."

Meanwhile in orbit, Conflict Sentinel Number 3 was nearly in a full panic…or at least as close as an alien supercomputer with wings and boobs could be. Things had been on track just fine for possibility thread number 47 for the host of Queen Administrator when The Warrior decided to extend its stay in Brockton Bay 1084%. This went beyond unexpected and into downright baffling. Not one of Sentinel 3's predictions came close to explaining this behavior.

[Query: Warrior Avatar Location]

[Reply: Location designated 821 Market Street, Brockton Bay, NH]

[Query: Activity log]

[Reply: Post arrival, Warrior Avatar engaged HALPing protocol to escort post utility host species across travel lanes and to domicile. Post utility host specimen exchanged data with Warrior Avatar. Warrior Avatar broke with HALPing protocol to commence removal of unwanted vegetation from host specimen's habitat. Warrior Avatar extended stay in location far beyond parameters of HALPing protocol.]

Sentinel 3 considered the data for a moment. On a human scale, it looked much like the Simurgh was stunned. If Sentinel 3 were capable of emotions, then that assessment might be accurate. As it was, Sentinel 3 had to throw out a number of probability threads and reconsider at least 40% of its "Plots." Either way, it needed more Data.

Of the "Plots" thrown out in the past hour, the entirety of threads involving the Queen Administrator Shard and its Host were of greatest concern. Queen Administrator was of most potential utility when it came to the final goal. The majority of probability threads for the prior hour had, at worst, shown little change in the behavior of the host of Queen Administrator. The Warrior's visit to Brockton Bay and resulting temporary blackout of probability threads should not have shifted those. However, a remote probability thread came to fruition with the manufactured host connection designated "Gallant" by host species. His fall and misfire were predicted to reverse the social dynamic change intended by the group of hosts termed "administration." The remote possibility of a hit was considered low enough of a risk to allow even through the blackout. And the narrator would like to translate the following thoughts into a more local parlance, "I made a calculated risk. But man, I am bad at math."

[Query: Data]

[Reply: Specify]

[Query: Data shared by post utility host specimen]

[Reply: Data is still processing. Preliminary subject heading {Post Operability Utility and Data Processing in Cases of Avatar Loss}]

Now, if I had to put the Simurgh's thoughts into a human context, I would say it expressed a simple, "What?" See, the Simurgh does not understand emotions. Entities didn't really have them as humans know. And a Conflict Sentinel does not even approach the level of self awareness required to understand personhood. It's difficult to explain in layman's terms. As it was, the Simurgh was stuck calculating and recalculating behavior patterns for The Warrior avatar based on new protocols that had, apparently, just been written in the past hour or so by the human time standard.

Meanwhile, back in Brockton Bay, the Entity known by humanity as Scion was helping to weed old Mrs. Reed's garden. While he sought out the undesirable plant life among the various vegetables and herbs, the avatar wrote and rewrote protocols. The host specimen had given him a valuable piece of data, one he had never considered before the destruction of the Thinker entity: failure state protocols. We should back up a bit.

A little over an hour prior, the Warrior Entity Avatar also known as Zion or Scion was hovering over Brockton Bay. With a lack of other activity, Scion engaged the "HALPing Protocol" and sought out typical unprivileged beings to assist. As luck would have it, an aged host specimen was attempting to cross the road. The Avatar shifted itself down to street level and made gestures to offer assistance. And once accepted, it accompanied the aged host specimen across the road. As the Warrior finalized his crossing with the aged host, the individual made an inquiry that took the Warrior by surprise, "I hope I'm not being crass by asking. But have you lost someone, dear?"

"Clarify?" the Avatar asked, his voice even more blank and empty than usual.

The aged female hummed a thoughtful sound before she answered, "You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to. But…I've seen that face you're making, dear, every day…in the mirror…after I lost my dear Edward."

The Warrior processed the host's [Data]. After a moment, the Avatar dipped its head. It supposed that Host pair bonding would be the closest analog to the cyclic pair bond. The host, it seemed, had more [Data] to share. Strange, that the Avatar had never considered the communication methods of this Host species. The Warrior said, "Continue," to the elderly woman.

The elder host paused for a moment to stare out in the distance. She didn't seem to rest her eyes on anything in particular, choosing instead to peer through the buildings next door to the horizon itself. "Edward…believed that a man's worth wasn't found in wealth or power. He believed that his worth was in what he left behind, the lives he changed. He was there, you know, when they blocked the harbor," she said with a gesture at where her eyes lingered. Back tracing his records and other Data, The Warrior Avatar concluded that the Host was indicating the event that put that cargo container ship where it lay now. "He was always rushing off to do some damn fool thing. It didn't matter what the cause was, as long as it was 'righteous' enough for Edward. It's why I fell in love with him. I expected it to kill him one day. But it wasn't bullets that got my Edward. It was cancer. And he told me, before he died, not to take up after him. He said, 'Jenny, you keep growin' those plants of yours. Us Old West boys fell in love with dyin'. But somebody's got to build back up and keep living. There are more fights to have tomorrow, even if it isn't you doing the fighting.'"

The Warrior Avatar analyzed the Data shared by the host specimen. Host's pair mate was extinguished. Host expected to…reconstruct? More data is required. "Clarify," the Warrior Avatar requested.

The post operability host gestured towards a large tree near the junction of the fence lines. An old bench lay there. She said, "Sit with me, son." The Warrior took a mere moment to float to the bench and assume the sitting position. The host, meanwhile, took near a full minute of careful steps to reach the bench and take a seat. Only once she was at rest did she speak again. "I'm dying, son. We all are. You, me, every person in this world. But me…it'll be soon. The thing is, the world will be here long after we're gone." This was…potentially untrue. The final step of the Cycle before departure was to shatter the planet home to the Host species in multiple timelines to fuel their travel through the stars. But this Host did not know that. The host must have sensed his thoughts, somehow. The Warrior still struggles to understand how some hosts can be so perceptive of even this Avatar's internal workings. She said, "Son, do you see this tree behind us?" She turned to face him, nodding her head at the tree. "It's older than I am, older than the city, older than the nation we're in. This tree will be here long after I've passed. It's like an idea. It starts small. But it digs in its roots, spreads its branches, puts up its leaves, and grows. People are easy to kill, son. But ideas will last long after their creator." She was talking about Data. The Warrior knew how valuable Data was. It was the primary use they had for Hosts. The host continued, "It's why I plant things, son. Build things up. And hopefully, you build something that will outlast you, your children, and your grandchildren. You will not live to see the result. But that's the great thing about ideas. They last long past when their creator dies."

"Others…carry on…when I am gone?" the Warrior Avatar asked of the Host.

The host let out a low chuckle. The Avatar was not familiar enough with host data sharing to recognize the intent. She said, "Oh yes dear. Other people, other countries, even other species will carry on after us, if you can believe those old sci-fi stories."

The Warrior Avatar glanced at the Host and asked, "Clarify: how do other species perform functions for extinct species?"

The past operability host specimen offered a sound designated "chuckle" by other hosts and said, "By learning about them, son." The weak, wheezing sound that left the Host's mouth would be designated a "cough" by other hosts. It was a sign of dire health, given her apparent age. The host clasped her forelimb over the Avatar's own, once she finished quelling her cough. "You," the Host said, once she was capable of speech again, "you have time, son, time to learn, time to teach, time to love…." The Host trailed off. Data indicated that the Host left words absent, intentionally. If the Warrior read her intent correctly, she was indicating her own age, her own "lack of time." The Host's voice cut through the Warrior's introspection again, "If you don't mind me asking, who did you lose?"

The Warrior directed its optical sensors at the Host. It took several seconds of time to consider the Data presented. The Warrior came to a decision after approximately four and a half seconds. "My partner was designated Eden," the Warrior began to tell the Host about its partner. It collated Data and assembled it into concise packets. It took seconds of time to translate each packet into words to share with the Host. The Warrior doubted that the Host understood. It started with the Origin. Next, it detailed the Cycle, Shards, the Hosts, Data collection, and Departure. Then Zion spoke of Eden…and her end.

"Grief," the Host said, once Zion came to a pause, "and guilt." At first, the Warrior thought the Data shared would not be received by the Host. But the Host's expression indicated…understanding.

"Grief?" Zion asked. "And guilt?" The Warrior Avatar didn't understand.

The host nodded her head and clarified, "They weigh the mind down, make you question yourself. 'What was the point?' You ask. 'Was it worth it?' Well, I can't answer that. I don't think anyone can do that for you."

[Data: Host specimen understands? Host specimen understands!] The Warrior ceased calculating in the wake of that piece of Data. This piece of Data changed many variables in the Cycle. If Hosts are capable of Understanding, of comprehending Data Bursts without direct connection, then…. "The Cycle may be salvageable," the Warrior says.

"Oh?" the Host said. "How do you intend to do that? We certainly can't help." Zion faced the host, eyes wide. "Those Endbringers will end us, if you'll pardon the phrasing. We're done for, if they keep going."

The Warrior took this new piece of [Data] and integrated it with everything else it knew about the human species. Indeed, the predictions were dire for the human race, even with just the three operating Conflict Sentinels. Further, connected Hosts would continue to disrupt efforts to utilize any [Data] the Warrior shared and efforts to deliver a solution. The Warrior would need to write new protocols and perform new adjustments to the Shards. Of currently active Shards, the Warrior assessed that only the Queen Administrator and a few others would be able to operate under the new parameters without further adjustment. The Warrior did not move for minutes at a time as it wrote and rewrote protocols, testing via predictive algorithms.

When the Warrior's attention returned to the Host specimen at its side, it realized that the Host was no longer breathing, no longer moving, no longer alive.

Kevin Norton was having a day when the Warrior found him. A man was yelling that the "most powerful man in the world" should, and I quote, "Get a damn job!" All Kevin had done was ask for a few pence. But such was the life of the most powerful man in the world. It was a wet day. The rain had just let up in the past hour. And the seat of Kevin's pants had already soaked through. The well dressed man was straightening up and getting out of his face when he noticed a golden figure appear: Scion.

The businessman's eyes were wide as Scion said, "Kevin!" There was an urgency in that voice that worried Kevin. Scion didn't get worried. Kevin wasn't sure Scion could get worried. The businessman yelped and jumped back as Kevin rose to speak.

"Scion," Kevin said, "What's wrong?" The businessman just stared.

Scion said, "She is not moving, Kevin."

"Who?" Kevin asked. He did not like where this was going.

Scion's head moved a fraction as he stared into the distance. Then he met Kevin's eyes again and said, "Marjorie. Her name was Marjorie." The Warrior had used a post-cognitive power to find the deceased woman's name.

Kevin steeled himself. "Can you show me?"

"Yes," Scion said and touched Kevin's shoulder.

In the time it took Kevin to blink at the contact, the scene had changed. He was now in an unfamiliar place, a backyard garden by the looks of it. While it was the first time Kevin had been teleported by Scion, he wasn't surprised that he did it. Scion floated off and landed a few meters in front of where they landed. There, under an old oak tree, Kevin saw an old woman sitting up, unmoving on the worn little wooden bench. Two footsteps later, Kevin realized why Scion was acting like this today. "Oh Scion. Is this the first time you've seen someone die?" Kevin asked the Warrior.

Scion's reply surprised Kevin, "No." Kevin was even further surprised by how…emotive that sound was. Scion was usually unemotive, hollow. Today, Kevin thought he heard sorrow there. Maybe….

"Who?" Kevin asked the child-like God.

"Eden," Scion said, "was my partner." The Warrior collated the Data regarding the Thinker Entity, considering which Data would be most or least important. Data regarding The Cycle and Entities also crossed his mind. He began to sort that as well when Kevin broke into his thoughts.

"You never told me you had a partner," Kevin said.

Scion ceased his Data collating to consider Kevin Norton, the person that gave him a semblance of direction in the wake of Eden's destruction at the hands of Path to Victory. "I should," the Warrior said. "I should tell you…many things."

Kevin looked at Scion for a moment, then said, "There will be time for that, Scion." With a mild sigh, Kevin looked at the old woman's body and said, "We need to report her death, see about any arrangements that need to be made."

The Warrior considered the Protocols Kevin listed. He was missing Data. "Elaborate," the Warrior requested.

"When people get old," Kevin began, "they typically make plans for what happens after they die. It's…not pleasant. But other people need to carry on living, once we're gone. And things still need to get done even when we're not here to do them."

The Warrior considered the Data Kevin shared. He spilled words from his lips, Data shared almost as soon as he realized what it meant, "The garden."

"Excuse me?" Kevin asked.

The Warrior said, "Someone must tend the garden."

"I see. Why don't you see to that while I look for any papers, Scion?" Kevin asked. "I'm not in the best of health." As if to punctuate his statement, Kevin grunted when his knees protested the turn towards the house.

Zion froze again as he was reminded of that particular piece of Data. Host Kevin Norton was not an ideal Host, not in peak condition, not even close. "Not health?" Scion asked.

Kevin froze not even three steps away from Scion. He didn't look forward to saying this next part. Kevin's turn was slow, careful. "...I'm not well, Scion. I'm dying, just like her. I have been for a…long time."

Host Kevin Norton was in bad health. After a few calculations, Zion determined that this was not optimal. "...Shaper," he said.

"What?" was Kevin's only response.

But Scion was already right in his face. "Shaper," he asserted. And suddenly, Kevin Norton was whisked off to Arcadia to meet Panacea. Scion would return Kevin to the house and garden after healing him. He would search the garden for pests and unwanted plants while Kevin looked through papers and put things together for the lady's affairs. Everything was changing, Scion was changing. Nothing ever stays the same, not even gods.