Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Stop, Scion," I said.

The golden man paused in midair without making a sound, looking straight at me. Okay... That's good.

His white bodysuit, extending to his biceps and the tip of his toes, looked cleaner than the last time I'd seen him. His cape fluttered in the wind, the same plain white as his clothes. His features were still the same. All gold, skin included. Long, waist-length hair, beard still neatly trimmed, so I thought my initial theory about his hair was correct. It didn't grow or get cut. His face was expressionless, but...

​

He looked... sad.

I blinked back the emotion. Master effect. His face was placid, beneath that strange emotion aura of his. It reminded me of Glory Girl.

I took a breath.

"I know you want to help," I continued, "but it's too dangerous. You're too strong, and this situation is fragile. It'll do more harm than good."

My swarm moved to cover us, blocking the sight of the fight below. 

"You don't need to participate in this fight," I said. "You could help people somewhere in Russia, or Japan. Or maybe somewhere in Africa."

He said nothing, just staring listlessly at me.

I continued, "I'm not sure if you have a Thinker power that lets you know when people need help, but if you did, can't you see that there are other problems you need to deal with?"

A moment passed, and Scion still didn't react. I sighed, and tried a softer approach, 

"Or maybe you don't have to deal with them. You just need to stay away from here for a little while. Jack thinks he can control you, or kill you, and we don't want that to happen. You could go to Brockton Bay. You could go to Houston, or New York, even. That's far enough away from Jack."

No response.

"This place is becoming more dangerous," I said, "You need to leave. I'm going. No matter where you want to go, we can't stay here."

"Come on," I gestured to a random direction. But still, he wasn't moving. Suddenly, he stopped looking at me. He was looking... Somewhere. The fight, probably. Did he even hear me?

I dropped my arms in defeat.

"...Or you don't understand what I'm saying," I murmured. "Or you don't care... Fuck me."

I tried to be a little more stern. "Listen to me, Scion," I said. "Pay attention."

I flew closer, and reached for his hand, and I—

I opened my eyes. I was groggy, feeling a strange taste in my mouth. My eyes saw blurred shapes, familiar ones. Ones that I had woken up to nearly every day for more than a decade.

I recognized my room. The one from my house.

I felt simultaneously refreshed, yet tired. It was a familiar feeling. I tensed.

I... just woke up from sleep. But how?

I focused on what my blurred eyes could see. It looked like it was morning, the golden light seeping through the window, lighting up my room.

I looked at everything with confusion.

I didn't feel the side effects of being hit with a sleeping agent, unless Bonesaw made something like it, but that didn't feel right. The Slaughterhouse Nine didn't have any illusion-making capes save from Nyx, or other possible Hybrids using other members... But that didn't feel right, either.

My body didn't feel right.

It reminded me of when I was swallowed up by Echidna. I saw my own memories reflected back at me, but with an added layer of irony and despair... But this didn't feel like it, either. Master-Stranger protocols weren't exactly usable, right now.

What was going on?

I didn't know, for sure, but it wouldn't hurt to act like myself. I looked around, and I saw the shape of my glasses. I reached out and put them on immediately.

When my vision cleared, I felt some measure of relief. The presence of frames on my face felt both strange and calming.

I took off my blanket and got out of bed, making a beeline to where I knew the bathroom was. It was there, as I had expected.

When I looked in the mirror, I was surprised.

My black, curly hair was shorter, but that wasn't what shocked me. I was smaller, and I looked young. Possibly fifteen or sixteen. At that age, I was obsessed with standing in front of this same mirror, emulating Emma's mindset and criticizing and picking apart everything I thought was a flaw about me.

I didn't even remember what I used to see. I didn't remember what I used to think, only the vague outlines of thought processes possessed by a bullied teenage girl.

I touched the sink, just in case. It didn't disappear into toxic fog, as I'd thought. All I felt was the smooth, cold surface of aged porcelain. I touched the mirror, but nothing happened. I touched the walls. I pressed on them, hard, and they began to creak.

No, this wasn't an illusion by a Nyx clone or a Nyx hybrid. I paused.

I needed to check the date.

I didn't have a phone, so I went downstairs, straight to the kitchen, and looked at where I remembered the union-provided calendar was. When I got there, I saw that the year was still on 2009, unchanged, untouched. When I saw the word "January", I stilled.

I realized I had forgotten one thing. Perhaps the most important thing of all.

My power.

I couldn't feel my bugs. Passenger, are you there?

"Taylor?"

I turned my head to the voice, and dad was there. His face looked a little younger, even with the bags on his eyes standing out. His balding was less severe. His big, green eyes, however, looked like he was holding back questions.

The pieces clicked in my head. Ah.

I remembered these times, when the bullying was still escalating, but the locker incident hadn't happened yet. I knew I should have went to my father, but I was too stubborn and too unsure of what he'd do and how he'd react. I knew now that he'd always be by my side.

Maybe I really did travel back in time.

I embraced him, and he seemed taken aback. Quickly, though, he returned my embrace, wrapping his arms around me.

"Dad?" I said, calmly, "I'm sorry for being so distant. I'll... I'll talk to you later. I'll tell you everything. I just—"

I looked to the front door, where our porch with the ever-existent broken step was. The sunlight looked a bit more golden than what I remembered. I swallowed.

"—I just have to go," I said.

His mouth opened, but I didn't get the chance to hear whatever he wanted to say as I bolted outside. I could hear him trying to follow, but he stopped at the door. I whipped around his car, and went to look for something to use.

I was still wearing my pyjamas, but I didn't care. I stole a bike from one of the neighbors, a person whose face I probably haven't even seen.

Dad didn't chase after me.

It was strangely difficult leaving dad by himself, especially since my last fuzzy memory of him was when I said goodbye... somewhere. I still had to try to contact the Undersiders, just to make sure my memories were real.

I didn't know what I'd do if I ever met them again, I just... I just knew that I needed to see them. Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow.

I quickly went downtown, to the public library. As I passed the wide streets, wide sidewalks, the occasional skyscrapers, and the workers of all classes milling about their day-to-day lives, I felt a little nostalgic—Especially with the strangely, dramatically orange morning sunlight.

When Leviathan destroyed most of Brockton Bay, he made a giant hole in the upper parts of it, using the aquifer below. He turned it into a lake. I remembered how many familiar buildings were destroyed, even remembered huddling behind their crumbled remains, wading through the fight against the Endbringer. When the Slaughterhouse 9 attacked and caused more chaos, every old part of the city felt a bit more foreign, and a bit more nostalgic.

The Central Library, the Hillside Mall, the PRT Office, the Forsberg Gallery, Brian's old apartment, and other familiar buildings I couldn't name. Somewhere around here, there's the penthouse of an actual Nazi. And somewhere beneath, there'll be the underground bunker where Coil will put Noelle. On and on, important locations in downtown filled my mind. There was even the old Fugly Bob's that I never had in Chicago.

Perhaps later, when all this is done.

Or maybe it wasn't even real.

Entering the public library, and ignoring the looks that people gave me, I logged in on a computer.

Immediately, I got the accurate date. November 7, 2010. I tried not to let it get to me. I looked for mentions of events that I knew, and events that preceded things that were impossible to predict. Well, maybe not for Thinkers.

'Maybe I am a precog,' I thought to myself. Though that felt possible, it didn't feel... right.

I saw the newest headline. "Behemoth Attacks Hawaii" dated to a few hours ago with a linked image of a volcano turning near white-hot at its peak, and leaking magma everywhere. Maybe this was why I travelled back in time?

Other than that, there was nothing that caught my attention. No other big, noticable event was on the front pages of the internet.

Scion was still flying around, saving the day. Alexandria was still not Rebecca Costa-Brown. The PRT was still not revealed to be a Cauldron-controlled entity. And Case Fifty-Threes weren't Cauldron creations.

At least, not yet, if my knowledge of the future held true.

A couple of hours passed with me just scrolling through the news and discussion boards, visiting multiple sites. There was nothing else.

With me having given my all, and doing what I could, I logged out and left, heading... not home.

Not to the Undersiders' lair, either. I was just a girl wearing pyjamas, and that part of town was dangerous, for me. Especially with my lack of defenses. No pepper spray, no baton, no powers.

Maybe next time.

Instead, I went to a beach. Somewhere hidden along the bay. Somewhere along the Boat Graveyard.

The view here was peaceful, calm. The wind was cool, and it felt like my cheeks were being caressed every time it passed me.

"I really am back," I murmured.

There was no denying it. It wasn't possible for me to have been hit with a illusion power. It wasn't possible for things around me to be a delusion, or a dream.

But neither was it possible for me to have been hit with a time-traveling power. Grey Boy's loops weren't like this, and from what I could think of a Grey Boy and Nyx hybrid, it wouldn't look or feel like this, either. Even if Bonesaw could have somehow changed their passengers, their powers wouldn't stray from their original setting.

Scion didn't have such a power, all things considered, and he was the last person that I'd been in contact with. And I didn't even manage to touch him.

Nonetheless, that still begs the question of how this even happened... But did it really matter, now? I couldn't find a way to deal with this. Not yet, at least.

All I could do was keep living.

I thought about how much I could do, now that I had the chance to do it all over again. I wouldn't repeat the same mistakes I've done.

I'll do it, this time. I'll become a real hero.

A few hours ago, from my perspective, I'd just killed a child because I thought there was no choice. Now, I felt a tinge of guilt and regret. What did it matter? I went back in time, and it undid everything I could have done.

Sitting down on the warm sands, I thought about my knowledge of the future, and what I could do to prevent or mitigate them. Coil. Dinah. Noelle. The Endbringers. The Slaughterhouse Nine. Cauldron. The end of the world.

For a few hours, I relaxed. I knew I needed this. I knew that, if things were to happen for good, I wouldn't get any rest for a while.

So I relaxed, and planned.

I went home, and dad wasn't there.

I thought he'd be more alert—or maybe even confrontational—after that hug and apology from the morning. I thought he'd want to sit down and talk, no matter the costs. Especially with what I told him I'd talk to him about.

Or maybe he did try, but life kept him stuck wherever he was, and not letting him be here, right now.

Whatever had happened, the result was that I was alone with my thoughts.

I looked around the house, recognizing details that I haven't physically seen in two years, maybe even four years.

I looked at everything with a bit of nostalgia, and it wasn't helped by the rays of light shining inside of the house. The TV; the old, shedding couch; the kitchen where dad used to make muffins, and the table where he always put them; the photographs that sat on high places, high shelves, out of touch, out of mind.

I looked at them all, and I touched them, etching the sensations and memory in my mind.

For the first time in years, I looked at one of my mom's photographs. It's been so long since I last saw her. I felt some measure of shame about the fact that I was too scared to face my own feelings that I didn't even try to remember her. Not like this.

I looked, and my heart stuttered.

I knew—I remembered—deep down what my mother looked like. If someone had, say, a power that lets her do anything if there's even the smallest chance of it being possible, a precognition so powerful that it basically lets her become unbeatable... There's a chance that, one reason or another, if my mother was staring me right in the face—unmasked, uncovered—I wouldn't have recognized her.

And I thought that was exactly what happened.

Because when I looked, I saw Contessa's smiling face.

Chapter Text

My first thoughts were of denial.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was in a power-induced hallucination. Maybe I stepped into a precog vision—one with near perfect realism and accuracy—or maybe an alternate of Earth Bet that was close enough to look the same.

I grabbed the photo, and looked at it more closely. Pale skin, dark-brown eyes, hair that looked between wavy and curly. Mom's hair. My hair. Contessa had never smiled, in the times that we've met, but...

She smiled, bobbing her head up and down a little. "It's always about the people, isn't it?"

Her cold, unfeeling eyes... They were my mother's. I looked at her mouth, and I looked at my own faint reflection, at the mouth that I had inherited from my mother. They were the same.

But that didn't make sense. Contessa wasn't tall enough to be mom.

I set the frame down, nearly dropping it, and grabbed every other picture that had my mom in it. At last, I grabbed the family picture hidden above the fridge. I already saw that one—even looked at it—after I nearly killed Triumph. I looked at it, and still saw Contessa.

...No, I was looking at mom, but recognized Contessa.

Every picture I looked at, I saw Contessa's face.

No...

My breathing felt difficult, and my heart pounded in my ears, so I took a slow breath, collecting my thoughts, compartmentalizing. How long ago had I last seen mom?

We had an open casket funeral, for her. I heard dad become angry for the first time in his life and wailed and berated her corpse.

I hadn't seen her for over four years, and when I saw Contessa for the first time, I hadn't seen her for two years. And even then, I'd only seen her during times when the lighting was not enough. It changed her face in subtle ways I now knew to be bullshit. Too dark, too foggy. Always unclear.

Even then, it didn't matter to me. I'd long stopped looking for my mother's face on strangers.

The only other way I tried remembering her was by reading books. A callback to better times, when mom would read me stories in bed, or when we'd read novels together, or when we were all together in the living room, mom and I sitting on the couch with a book each, or maybe we'd share, and dad was half on his computer and half on a book of his own. It was my greatest refuge when the bullying got worse than usual, before I got powers.

I still kept reading even after becoming a cape, even past all the interruptions of life. I went back to it during prison. Even then, looking at her face was... too much, even for me.

I picked up the family photo.

We looked happy, here. The memory entered my mind. We just had a picnic, on some hill I'd long forgotten the location of. Possibly somewhere between Boston and New York. The silver-colored camera was set up on a picnic basket, with an improvised timer made from carefully balanced sticks and a slipper. She returned just in time for the camera to take a picture. Mom pulled it off, did something awesome, like she always did. Always pulling off nearly impossible things, ever since I could remember.

I had always thought of my mother as someone who could do anything, someone who could do everything. I looked at her smiling face. After she died, I used to think that, maybe, if I had even just 30 minutes of time with her again, she could make sense of everything that I've been feeling, everything that I've gone through, everything that I did, and put it all into terms that would make everything look easy.

At this moment, I realized why I expected that of her: Because she could. She could do anything. It was all easy, for her. It was the reason why Emma used to think that my mom was the coolest adult in the world.

Contessa once said that she could see the paths to victory. That she could carry them without fail. Every step necessary, even with blind spots that she couldn't directly see.

I remembered how people looked at me in pity while I was bullied by the trio and their lackeys. I remembered how none of them did anything to help me, sometimes even helping the ones who were bullying me. I remembered how everyone who could do something instead chose to watch from the sidelines, every authority figure I knew, rendered impotent by the looming figure of the PRT.

I remembered how Emma looked at me in disgust for the very first time in my life. I remembered how smug and predatory Sophia looked, observing the coming wreck. I didn't remember the exact words, but I remembered how it felt when Emma threw away years of our friendship just so that she could suck up to a parahuman.

"I wanted to break off our friendship a long while back," Emma smiled, "even before your mom kicked the bucket, but I couldn't find the chance. You're such a burden, Taylor. Stop lying to yourself."

If Contessa was my mother...

If Contessa could do anything...

Why, then... Why didn't she do anything?

Did she even love me?

Why—?

One moment, I was mortal, with blurred vision. Next moment, I had a splitting headache and a million new eyes to look through, and a million more senses to feel through.

Chitin creaked and sang according to my will, and the surroundings turned silent. Like a wave coming from me.

My power was back.

I saw myself, from tens of different angles, and I saw that I was crying. My cheeks were stained with tears.

I didn't notice that.

I sniffed, and wiped my eyes. Was me triggering and gaining a power what Contessa wanted? I knew I was involved with the end of the world somehow, as Dinah led me to the Wards, but—Behind me, a glowing line appeared on the floor, from my right to left.

The line expanded upwards into a door shape, and I recognized it as one of Cauldron's portals.

My range felt like it was nearing six blocks—it was still going. The bugs in my house, hidden from every nook and crevice, from the basement, from every piece of half-eaten wood, from the grass outside and the many houses around us, rushed from their places as I called them, and I stretched my perception towards the inside of the portal. The wind picked up speed as my newly-gotten swarm rushed past me, flowing through my hair and skin.

I turned around, and looked with my normal, human eyes. I was greeted with nothing but white. An empty, spotless hallway of white-tiled floors and white-painted walls, all bathed in bright fluorescent light. They were different to the last time I was led through a portal by Cauldron.

No traps—none that I could feel. There was a room at the end, through a partly open door, and the majority of my swarm forced their way through it. From the moment I began, it took merely a few seconds before the bugs reached Contessa.

She didn't dodge, or fight back. She just... let me tag her.

I had half a mind to sting her with the spiders I've just put on her skin. But was that really me, or my passenger?

I hesitated.

I took a breath, as instructed by Mrs. Yamada, and I tried to calm and center myself. My bugs found another person. Shorter, wearing a long, white coat—a lab coat. I pegged her as Doctor Mother. I could feel her panic. Her hear rate was up, and her breathing was irregular, but almost controlled.

There was a table in the center, and four chairs surrounding it. Doctor Mother sat in one, and Contessa was standing ready at the door. I couldn't feel any signs of emotion from her, nothing but the clenching of her jaw. Her breathing was calm.

I took another breath, and began to walk.

The portal closed as soon as I passed it, and the only sounds in the air were my sock-covered footsteps on tiles and the buzzing of my swarm. I couldn't feel the ghostly woman anywhere. I glanced behind me, and saw nothing but my bugs and the seemingly endless corridor.

As I walked, I remembered Alexandria, her death, and how Imp felt so befuddled by the fact that I was still invited to the Wards despite me killing one of the Triumvirate. Did Contessa have a hand on that? No, even if I wasn't her daughter, they'd still do it just to salvage the situation, but...

Why did she let Alexandria die?

Was it for me?

I remembered the time when I was assigned to protect Pretender, of how I nearly died from a little kid with powers. I remembered how Contessa was there, being a threat to Pretender... and in turn, distracting Usher at just the right time for him to drag August Prince away from me.

I shook my head. I should stop thinking about these things right before meeting her, again.

Or maybe for the first time.

I reached the metal door. It was partly open and had a handle with a keypad, but I just grabbed the side of the door to open it.

Slowly, I cleared my view, pulling most of the bugs away from my sight, crawling and flying away, and I saw Contessa for the first time, truly. No tricks, in full light.

I saw my own mother.

She wore a white dress shirt with black pants, and her hair was down. Her expression was of disbelief, and I felt my chest tighten. There was a lump welling up in my throat.

She was exactly as I remembered.

Somehow, it wasn't enough for me to have cried earlier, because I still felt myself tearing up and crumbling. I tried to center myself, and I swallowed back tears. She was as tall as I remembered. Oh, how stupid I was. I was too tall, I grew.

"Taylor," Contessa said, misty-eyed. Her voice was of the bogeyman of Cauldron, but when I gathered my memories from before the accident, I could see that it was just... her. It was her normal voice, a little bit more aged, and I'd somehow forgotten. Her past inflections were simply cold, emotionless. I just hadn't heard mom talk like that. Such a simple change had tricked me.

Or maybe I'd just heard too many women who shared my mother's voice. That I'd been looking too much for her missing presence that it hurt when I remembered she was gone.

I swallowed again.

"Mom," my voice was a croak, "is it really you?

She nodded slowly. Her voice was fragile. "I couldn't tell you," Contessa said, "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry.

Cut ties, I'm sorry.

Precogs and their games. Those words meant nothing. Still, I had to physically restrain myself from hugging her, or maybe punching her. I'd always wanted to see my mom again, to feel her calming presence one more time, but...

I never wanted it to be like this.

I clenched my fists. "Why did you call me here?" I said, less emotional. "Are you going to kill me?"

I knew that wasn't possible. Cauldron was nothing if not full of compromises. Still, I wanted to see her look hurt, and she was. She shook her her head, brows furrowed.

"No," Contessa said. "Just... I'll explain everything. Please, take a seat."

I paused. I wanted to give her a chance, but... What Cauldron did—the human experimentation on the Case Fifty-Threes, and Shamrock's horror story; the cover-ups and lies by Alexandria; the nearly casual disregard for human life, sacrificing them in the thousands; the Nemesis program; creating the Protectorate and the PRT... Somehow, for a very long time, my own mother was complicit in these things.

"Taylor," mom's voice sounded. "Please, there's not much time."

I snapped out of my thoughts, and looked at her face. She looked earnest, and I had to wonder whether everything she did was part of her path to victory.

I nodded, and walked towards the nearest chair, its back towards the door, with me facing the Doctor. Contessa walked to the chair on the other side.

Still, for all that she was a horrible person, I felt like I was just like her. Maybe I was destined for the life of villainy. I looked back to everything I've done for what I thought was the best. Taking innocent people hostages, with me willing to sting them with venom I knew could be fatal; condoning Regent's acts against Sophia and Shatterbird; kidnapping Director Piggot; choking Triumph until his father gave in to our demands...

Leaving my friends without telling them my plans.

Leaving my dad.

No goodbyes.

I sat down on the plastic chair, numb. Dad wasn't like this. Not in any way, I knew that.

I really was my mother's daughter.

I looked in front of me, at Doctor Mother. Her face was impassive, but I could feel the brimming energy from her body language. Contessa was watching us both as she sat down.

I spoke, "Do you know who I am?"

The Doctor's breath hitched minutely.

"Yes," she said, and I could hear a faint french accent, "I've heard of you."

I took a calming breath. "Are you threatening my mother?"

"No," Contessa said. "She can't."

I gave her an out, an excuse, and she didn't take it. I looked at my mom. "Why is she here?"

"Proof," Contessa said. "Someone you could use your power on."

The Doctor took a breath. Her heartbeat was more normal, now. I wondered how much of this conversation was guided by her power. How much information was Contessa preventing me from accessing, really?

Light appeared from our left.

A rectangular portal opened, bottom to top, and beyond it, I saw what I knew was my dad's office. A second passed, and dad walked though it, confused.

Ah. Four chairs. My lips felt like they were being sealed by this simple act of bringing my father to this conversation. My fingers clenched, and my mind began to think of ways to navigate this whole meeting.

"Danny," Contessa spoke with a gentle voice. In this moment, she sounded like mom—exactly as I remembered. Their eyes met. He smirked sadly, and he fidgeted in place.

His voice was choked, "So this is the secret you were talking about."

What?

I blinked. Contessa nodded, "I said it was dangerous. It isn't, now."

I looked at dad. He chuckled deeply. He knew? No, he suspected? Why didn't he say anything?

"Nette," dad continued, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes, "Is that really you?"

Contessa swallowed. Her jaw was clenched. "A long time ago," she said, "I told you that when we were alone, you could call me by my real name."

I looked at both my parents in confusion. I've only been back for half a day, holding knowledge from the future, and already, I felt like I knew nothing.

Dad wiped his nose. "Fortuna," he breathed. "You told me to call you Fortuna."

"You told him," the Doctor murmured with a sense of awe.

I looked at her, then at Contessa, who took a shaky breath. Dad suddenly began to notice all the bugs in the room, who were silently staying in their places. Stilled.

"Please, sit down," Contessa said. "I'll explain as much as I can."

"Right," he said. Dad looked at me, and gave a short smile while walking towards the empty chair.

"Before we begin," Contessa said, "I'd like to introduce you to Doctor Mother." she gestured at the Doctor, who nodded with a smile.

"Hello, Mr. Hebert," she said, "I've heard much about you."

"Hope it's all good," dad gave an awkward chuckle.

"She was the one who helped me find an adoptive family," Contessa said, and dad nodded. I blinked. "She's one of the people I work with, in this organization. Its name is Cauldron, and the two of us founded it."

I felt a chill. They founded it?

"Our Contessa," the Doctor said, "or Annette, is one of our most important operatives. She is my bodyguard, due to her unique power."

"I can see the paths to victory," Contessa said. "I can see every step towards achieving any goal I set out, barring some blind spots. The Endbringers, Scion, and Eidolon. I can set up multiple paths, as well."

"Fitting," dad grinned, "I suppose. It sounds like you."

Contessa smiled, wide and expressive, and my heart nearly burst. There was a lump in my throat. Despite my best efforts, tears found their way into my eyes.

I remembered the most important question of them all.

My voice was small. "Why did you leave us?" I said.

Mom's smile fell. "I was forced to," she said. "I was ambushed, in a way that I've failed to account for with my power. When I woke up, the funeral was long done, and there was no chance of me coming back without endangering your lives."

"Why not?" I said, "Your power shows you the paths to achieving any goal you desire, right? Why couldn't you do this?"

"Because I wanted you safe, both of you," mom said, "and I wanted you safe more than I wanted to be with you, because there's no point in me endangering your lives when you could have lived life without me. I'd risk your hate more than your deaths."

Dad's voice was broken. "Oh, 'Nette."

I've heard this excuse, already. Straight from the mouth of Doctor Mother herself. She said she'd rather they go down in history as the villains, so long as it saves everyone.

My voice cracked. "Then why didn't you stop the bullying?" I asked. I cleared my throat and sniffed. "Don't tell me you didn't know that."

The Doctor opened her mouth, but Contessa beat her to it.

"I didn't," she said, voice hollow. "It was my mistake. I... I didn't want to look too much in your direction. I only knew that my paths would keep you alive."

I opened my mouth, but—"Contessa," the Doctor said, "You did that?"

Mom's voice was hard. "I've enabled those paths long before I was forcefully put out of the picture. I have not breached the constraints of Terminus."

I already knew that Cauldron didn't want to be in charge, and that Coil, the Undersiders, including me, were merely part of a big experiment. More pieces built up in my head, some of them connecting, but I wanted to ask my own mother directly.

But... I had another question, first.

"How?" I asked. "How is it impossible for you to find a way for me and dad to survive, but still allow for you to tell us that you were safe, or that you were alive?"

"The Simurgh," Contessa said. I paused. "She is targeting me, and everything I care for. Everything that I've worked for."

My blood ran cold, and my breath hitched. It made sense, in a twisted way. Brockton Bay was oddly chaotic, and so much had happened in order for Cauldron, the PRT, and the Protectorate to be weakened, and all of it happened on our turf.

I thought about others that the Simurgh had targeted. Sphere was the most obvious, in my mind. He planned to build humanity homes on celestial bodies where the Endbringers didn't exist, and the Simurgh made him mad. She made him hate everything that he once stood for. From what I remembered of his file, he'd targeted other tinkers who were trying to make the world a better place.

"The Simurgh?" dad said, baffled, "How-why would she target you?"

I already had the answer.

"Because my organization is keeping humanity stable," Contessa said. "The Endbringers are attacking in a way that perfectly destabilizes humanity, and we are doing our best to resist them."

A part of me wanted to tell dad what I knew. How Cauldron created the Case Fifty-Threes, how they had kidnapped people on multiple worlds and performed human experimentation on them, all in order to find a way to put powers in vials. How his own wife was a supervillain, and had murdered and silenced many heroes before. Or if it somehow didn't happen already, then she was willing to kill anyone who stood in her way.

But I hesitated. How much did Contessa really know? I didn't want to underestimate thinkers—I already learned from my mistakes, from thinking that Tattletale couldn't suss me out—but I didn't want to overestimate Contessa, either.

From what I understood, she could see the steps, but it looked like she didn't see much beyond the steps of her power, only knowing that it would lead to the achievement of the goal she set. And from what I've seen, and what she said, she can set up multiple paths. She's probably set up paths that would make sure the side effects of her actions could be minimized, but at this point, I couldn't even trust that.

I... I really didn't know much about my own mother, after all. Maybe she was just saying the right words. Maybe she was lying, in some way.

I remembered my own words from earlier. My hands twitched. Damn it, I made her aware that I knew she was a killer. If she didn't know that I knew, I'd be surprised.

"So then, I have to ask," Contessa said, looking at me. "How did you find out?"

I pursed my lips.

"We weren't supposed to find out now?" dad said.

"No," Contessa said. "I didn't know that this was possible in the first place."

Dad looked at where Contessa was looking, and he tracked her sight, looking at me. "What's going on?" he asked. The room began to grow noisier with the flapping of wings and the rubbing of chitin. I took a breath.

"Why aren't you madder?" I said to my dad. I tried to relax my bugs.

"You're suspicious of me," Contessa said. "I understand that. You think I'm controlling you, but I'm not. My personal life as Annette was the only place where I tried my best not to manipulate others into doing what I want."

I could feel dad fidgeting, but he said nothing. I looked down at the table, then I looked away.

She gave a sad chuckle, and continued, "I don't always get what I want. I did, however, want a normal life. With my line of work, and my power, I needed to anchor myself to my humanity, so I couldn't just shackle you all in my paths. I never wanted to leave you. I never wanted this, for you. I never wanted you to trigger. I didn't want to control all your actions, so I made leeways for everyone I knew. I respect your decisions, and I won't tell you or force you to do anything."

I took a breath, and met my mother's eyes. "How much do you know?"

"Know what?" dad said.

"Mr. Hebert," Doctor Mother said, "if you would—"

"Let him talk," mom said. "Please."

"About me, I mean," I said, and dad's eyebrows furrowed.

Contessa replied, "My power allows me to gain information merely by asking myself questions, so I could get the answers, but I want to hear you say it."

My brows furrowed.

"I'm..." I hesitated. "I think I've time-travelled to the past. If I'm not wrong, I'm from the future."

Contessa breathed out.

"And why are you here?" the Doctor asked.

"I wanted to be a hero," I said. I felt so tired. Drained. I didn't even care that Doctor Mother was in the room.

"The life I've lived..." I paused to sigh. "I thought you'd be ashamed of me. Now, I know you're even worse."

I saw dad try to open his mouth, but he said nothing.

"I know you're looking for the master of the Endbringers," I said. "I know a cape who has the powerset to find out who it is."

The Doctor spoke, "And why are you telling this to us?"

"I want to help people," I said, "and I know you're not going to screw over humanity. It's the least I could trust you with."

I set my terms, "I want control of Brockton Bay. Isn't Coil one of your agents?" I recalled Coil saying something about a woman who had more knowledge about powers than anyone else. It was easy to extrapolate that it was Doctor Mother and Cauldron, ignoring how the Undersiders—myself included—ended up becoming their lab rats, too.

Dad shook his head. "Taylor, kiddo," he said. "What are you saying? You're-you're just fifteen years old."

The Doctor spoke, "Cauldron has a non-interference policy when it comes to Brockton Bay."

Pieces clicked in my head, settling into place. I took a calming breath.

"And why is that?" I asked. "Tell me it's not because my mom wanted to be left alone."

Her mouth opened, but mom beat her to it.

"It's part of the reason," Contessa said, "but the goal was to see what would happen if Cauldron was not involved in swaying the government and the populace, all in preparation for the inevitable rise of parahuman feudalism. But..."

She looked at the Doctor, who reciprocated with a blank look.

"This is technically not Cauldron's interference," Contessa said. "Not directly, at the very least."

The Doctor sighed, "Very well."

Contessa nodded. "We can arrange for you to become Coil's main contact to Cauldron," she said. "Keeping him in line would be up to you."

She paused, "Just know that I will always devote paths to ensure your safety. That is non-negotiable."

I felt a part of myself nearly break down.

"Okay," I mumbled.

"And how would you do that?" the Doctor said. "How would that work?"

"Taylor already has a plan," Contessa said, and I sighed internally. "What Cauldron could do is simply make an arrangement with him the moment after she's done. Taylor would naturally inherit Terminus, and Cauldron would have no true intervention during the act. She'd would need help with the aftermath, and I would simply step in. Not Cauldron, but me. I'd be just another cape at play."

The Doctor hummed. I bet she was thinking about how Contessa represented Cauldron more often that she did. Still, I didn't understand what they even meant.

"Taylor," dad said. "Are you-can you say anything about the bullying?"

His eyes were welling up with tears. A knot formed in my heart, and I pursed my lips.

The Doctor stood up. "I think this is my cue to leave," she said. "I have things to do. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hebert."

Dad nodded, giving a short smile. "Likewise."

"Thank you for being here," Contessa said, not even looking.

I recalled my bugs. Heels clicked on ceramic tiles, and soon, a metal door closed. The sound reverberated throughout the room.

Eventually, it was only the three of us left. My hands clenched. Somehow, I still felt like hesitating.

"Dad," I said. "Promise me you won't do anything too rash."

He hesitated, but, "Okay."

My thoughts went back to therapy. I took a deep, calming breath. I didn't manage to do this in my past life, despite two whole extra years of everything else happening. I didn't do it even when dad pulled over and hugged me because I started breaking down, I didn't do it during prison, I didn't do it before I participated in any of the Endbringer attacks, I didn't do it before I went to go stop Jack from ending the world.

And I really didn't want to choke on my words, or stammer too much, or even revisit the emotions I'd felt back then.

I swallowed. I could feel their eyes on me.

"After mom died..." I started, looking at the table. "It was... difficult. But I had Emma with me. When I came back from summer camp, I found out that her personality changed. She made a new friend, Sophia Hess, and she told me that she's finally letting go of the guilt that I was stringing her with, and that I was a burden, and that she's always hated me."

"Oh," dad said blankly.

I coughed, and sniffed. I willed my bugs to be normal.

"Then," I continued. "A couple of months before school started, I wanted to tell you that we weren't friends anymore, and that I was having second thoughts about attending Winslow, but I didn't. I didn't even want to make you worry that maybe you shouldn't have convinced mom to—" dad's face crumpled. "—to um, help me get into the same school as my best friend, because I knew you couldn't have thought of this. I won't ever blame you for that. When school started and Emma started to bully me, I didn't tell you anything. I thought I could have fought it all alone, and I did try for a few months until I realized that... That I..."

My lips pursed as I tried not to sob. I didn't stutter, that wasn't the type of person I was. Contessa was there—my mother—and she didn't help me.

"That, um," I swallowed—I've been doing that a lot lately. "That this was going to be my entire highschool life, and that no one was going to help me. Not the adults, the teachers, the faculty. Especially not any of my classmates. Sophia was popular and athletic enough that the boys wanted to impress her. Emma just kept shutting down attempts until people stopped. Some of them even joined in."

I took a deep breath.

"And so when Emma and her lackeys filled my locker with used tampons and pads before school started—starts next year, and when they pushed me inside and laughed and everyone just stood by and watched and the teachers did nothing, I triggered."

My swarm buzzed, and I shrugged. I didn't mention me puking towards the trash, or the fact that it was possibly Sophia, a Ward, that had pushed me in. They didn't need to know that, because it already felt like I've said too much. My eyes looked up. Dad was holding back a sob, and Contessa's eyes misted, ashamed. Fuck you.

No, stop that. I needed to control myself.

I took off my glasses to wipe my eyes.

"It's good that you told me," dad said.

"But I didn't, last time." I coughed wetly and cleared my throat.

"Maybe not," he said. "But I know you. I know you wanted to tell me."

A moment passed, and I nodded.

"Uh, right," I said. "Dad, could you help me sign up with the Wards tomorrow?

"I could help," Contessa said.

"You're literally dead," I said. "How? I thought you didn't want to reveal yourself?"

"You know Cauldron controls the PRT and the Protectorate."

"Right," dad said, and I stared at him. Did he even hear what mom just said? That giant bombshell she just casually dropped? "—But Taylor, what do you want to do about school?"

I tried to speak, but I hesitated.

"Sophia Hess is the probationary Ward known as Shadow Stalker," Contessa said, and I sighed. "She's not supposed to be bullying a classmate."

"What does probation mean?"

"It means, in this case, that she shouldn't do anything that could result in a lawsuit," she said.

I remembered the restrictions put on me when I was a probationary Ward, so I knew exactly what Sophia could and couldn't do.

"Right," dad's face was thoughtful.

"No, dad," I said. "Alan is an attorney. A divorce attorney, but an attorney nonetheless. We don't have the money to fight him, not yet. And we don't have to."

He sighed. "Okay, I won't."

"Indeed," Contessa said. "We don't. Her social worker could be contacted and we could solve all this under the rug, if you want."

"I don't think she should stay in Winslow."

"We can pull off a transfer," Contessa said. "Time it just right so that no one suspects that the newest member of the Wards is Taylor."

I just stared at them. The back-and-forth between them was far too natural that felt like nothing had changed. I could remember a dozen times that my parents had done this same song-and-dance when it came to everything.

"That's good," dad said, sighing in relief. His hands on the table clenched. "That's good. What school do you want to—?"

I breathed in, and shook my head.

"Taylor?"

"No," I said.

My parents looked at me. Dad looked confused, while Contessa's face was slightly surprised.

"What?" dad said. "Why?"

"Taylor," Contessa said. "Are you sure?"

I looked at her, resolute. I took a breath.

"If I leave," I said, "if I transfer out of Winslow, they win. Emma won't stop thinking that she's right, and Sophia would keep influencing her."

"I'll transfer Shadow Stalker somewhere else," Contessa said. "Perhaps the Seattle Wards—"

"No," I sighed. "Please, just... Let me deal with them myself."

Dad opened his mouth to say something, but he hesitated. Contessa sighed.

"Very well," she nodded.

"But you're being bullied," dad said with a trembling voice. His brows were furrowed. "Are you really sure about this?"

"I'm sure," I said.

Mom spoke, "I'm always here, if you ask. Just in case."

I gritted my teeth. Those words affected me more that I wanted to show it. I swallowed and forcibly imposed my will on my swarm, trying to make them act calm.

She gave a sad smile.

I successfully kept my voice calm. "Is there anything else we need to talk about?"

I looked her in the eyes. I wanted her to—No, needed her to tell dad what she did. I didn't want her putting that burden on me.

A stray thought told me that I was acting like Emma. I brushed it off.

"Not yet," she said. "Not with you here. That has to be between your father and I."

I nodded. This was the least she could do for him.

She continued, "You've been gone for a while, Danny."

"Right," he said. "I gotta take my car back home. Is it fine—?"

"Yes," mom said. "Doorway, please."

A portal opened up behind dad, leading back to his office—Exactly where the last portal was.

He stood up, then he hesitated.

"I wish that I could take you with me," he said. "But..."

Contessa smiled. "Maybe next time."

He walked towards her, and she stood up. I averted my eyes because I knew what was gonna happen next. They kissed, the blur of his hands cradling her face, and I averted every eye I had.

The sound of their kissing stopped, and looked again. Their eyes were closed. Dad had tears running down his cheeks, and his forehead pressed against Contessa's, her face on the verge of tears, but she was smiling.

Mom always had a nice smile.

"I gotta go," he said.

"Stay safe," she whispered.

He didn't move, and so mom pushed his chest. Dad chuckled, opening his eyes

"Right," he smiled. "I'll see you at home."

My eyes moved. Was she going home?

"I'll make preparations," she said. Somber.

I took a deep breath. I felt giddy, in spite of myself. My mother was coming home.

Dad passed the portal, looking back to give Contessa a final glance. He smiled, and she smiled back.

When the portal closed, she looked at me.

"Taylor," she said. "Wait for me here. I have to give you something."

Don't leave, I almost said.

But I nodded, and she walked off, going through the same door that the Doctor went through. The metal closed with an echoing thud.

And I was alone, at last, with only my swarm to keep me company. I didn't like bugs all that much, but their presence in my mind's eye was a small comfort.

Minutes passed in silence as I counted the seconds and the pounding of my heart calmed. With my lonesome, I had some time to really think about myself and digest what we'd discussed.

The door opened, and Contessa entered.

For the first time in a while, I smiled. The conflict in me disappeared for a bit, as I tried to appreciate the good parts.

My mom was alive.

"He should be at home any minute now," Contessa said.

My eyes fell to the table.

"Mom?" I said.

"Yes?"

"I lost your flute," I said.

Contessa said nothing. I continued.

"It was one of the last things I had of you, mom." My voice felt like choking.

"I know."

"Sophia took it from my locker, and destroyed it. But... I think she deserves a second chance, despite her bullying me."

Suddenly, I felt her hands hold mine.

"Taylor," Contessa said, and I sniffed. "What makes you say that?"

"I think," I said, slowly, trying to frame my words the right way. "I think everyone deserves more chances. Not just a second chance, but a third, maybe even fourth, and so on. As long as we help people become better versions of themselves, the amount of chances don't matter. It's their responsibility to be better, too. If they don't choose that, they lose people. They lose trust. They lose things that matter to them."

I breathed in, and continued. "Sophia wants to be a hero, but she's looking at it all the wrong way, even though her actions speak for themselves. Deep down, she wants to be good."

I didn't want to be a hypocrite. I didn't want to be like Contessa. I wanted to be better, and I knew that sticking to being a hero would be the right thing.

Even if it meant forgiving these things. Sophia wouldn't be the first that I've tried to recruit, or gave ways to be better.

I thought about what I once said, about how sometimes bad people do good for the sake of doing good. I was defending myself, then, but even without the subterfuge, it was an accurate assessment of what people had done over all of history.

"If you're sure," Contessa said.

"I am," I said. "It would feel a bit like hypocrisy if I didn't."

"But you aren't like her," she said.

"Maybe not, but... I have friends who've done worse, and they changed."

She hummed. I looked up.

"I have something for you," she said.

I blinked. "Oh, right."

"Take this," Contessa said, handing me a card. "I prepared an account for you with the Number Man, Cauldron's resident banker."

My hands took the card on autopilot. The Number Man, our freaking accountant during my supervillain days with the Undersiders, worked for Cauldron.

I glanced at my own mother, then at the card. I thought about the before, of my past life. How much influence did Contessa have on my life after I became a cape?

How much of it was her watching over me?

A portal opened behind me, and I could see dad walking out. My swarm rushed past him, making him try to avoid them, and I saw that it was home.

"That was quicker than the usual," he said, chuckling. "Did you use your power on me?"

She smirked. "Only because I'm in a rush."

He started to approach us, and I began to walk towards the portal. I thought he'd join, but he just stood there. So did Contessa.

Dad hummed. "When's the last time you were home?"

"Last week, Thursday," Contessa said. I blinked. "You had an early out, and slept even earlier than usual. I snuck in and slept besides you and woke before the alarm sounded. And still, you were up for half an hour."

Dad chuckled. "That's creepy."

"I'm not apologizing," she smiled.

He smiled back, and I moved to pass them both.

"You should get a watch," she said.

"Right."

"I'll put a tracker on it," her face was serious. He chuckled.

Dad had laughed more in these past few hours compared to the years I've been with him, after Contessa faked her death.

I looked away and passed the portal, beelining for my room. I was walking up the stairs when I paused. I needed to calm down.

I performed a relaxation exercise while I waited. Instead of lingering, I just went to the couch and sat down.

My parents were still chatting when they arrived, their walk ever so slow, and the sight carved a hollow feeling in my chest. It was like nothing changed. As if my mother had always been there, as if she was never Contessa.

I cleared my throat.

"Um," I said. "Dad, do we have dinner?"

His lips parted. "Oh, right. Yeah, let's have dinner, first."

I hesitated. "I... I'm not feeling hungry right now."

"Taylor—"

"Please?" Contessa said softly. "I don't want you to go to bed hungry. Join us?"

I paused for a moment. Part of me wanted this, and I did want it so much that I've dreamt of this for so long after she died that even my nightmares weren't enough to stop it. Still, part of me wanted to be away from her, away from all this. I felt drained, so drained, that I needed to be alone, just for a moment.

I searched her face. She's not doing anything, just... Waiting for me to make a choice.

I sighed.

"Okay," I murmured.

Dad smiled.

Dinner was... normal. The two of them chatted idly, with me occasionally joining in.

We didn't talk about Cauldron, or about the future. They just chatted like they did every time we were all home together. It felt a bit strange, and a part of me thought that I should address the elephant in the room, but...

Looking at my parents, looking at my dad, I hesitated.

Of course, when they paid attention to me, it was always hedging on discussing the future.

"What's up?" I asked when I saw dad looking at me.

"Nothing," dad waved it off. "It's just that..."

He gave a sad smile. Ah.

"You changed," he said.

Hearing it again didn't feel any different. It hit just as hard the first few times that he'd said it, back then.

I smiled, and said, "I'm sorry. I wish things were better."

I knew it was hard for him to... lose me, for lack of a better word. I'd changed after Emma, and I'd changed again after traveling back in time.

Contessa, however, had this strange tension around her shoulders, as if she wanted to reach out to me. I could see her looking, at times, but I thought she knew that I still felt conflicted about her history.

Not to say that she didn't do anything.

When it was time to sleep, after dad had done the dishes, after Contessa had cleaned the table, the two of them knocked at my door.

"Taylor," she said in a low voice. "I'll be busy for the next couple of days—"

Oh.

"—and we might not meet for a few weeks, but just know that you could always ask for my help, now."

My voice was small. "Okay."

"I know you're still feeling conflicted," she continued. "But I want to make up for lost time. I want to live in a world where I don't have to use my power anymore, where Cauldron doesn't need to exist, and I'm working towards that goal."

She sighed. "Please, don't turn me away."

"I'll try," I said.

She cradled my head—her hands cold, yet gentle—tilting it down, and I felt her kiss my forehead. And she spoke,

"Good night, little owl."

"Good night, little owl."

The world turned silent. There was this feeling, right in my throat, welling up and wearing my composure down. It felt like the whole world collapsed.

Mom smiled, and walked away. Dad looked teary-eyed at the sight.

All the revelations, all the secrets spilled, the planning, the solutions given... None of them affected me as much as those words did.

I had no more tears. I've already cried everything out, so I just stood there as the two of them went to dad's bedroom.

Their bedroom. The one where dad always kept mom's things untouched, and her side of the bed empty. Where I once caught him looking at the door, as if mom would just wake up and walk out of it.

In spite of everything, I still missed her.

I missed her so, so much. Was that such a bad thing?

I thought I'd long moved on, but the feeling of losing my mother... A part of me still held on to that. The years of therapy I'd done with Mrs. Yamada weren't enough to get rid of it completely.

I remembered her words.

"You have to make the change for yourself. I'm just your therapist."

I didn't want to feel like this.

I stayed up for a bit after that. I was in the same position I woke up to, with me gingerly placing my round glasses besides me.

And when I slowly drifted off to sleep, I thought about my knowledge from the future, and how little I really knew about everything.

I didn't know if the world gave me some measure of mercy, but somehow, I didn't dream that night.

I woke up.

My bugs were there. My dad was making breakfast downstairs. I could smell the pancakes and bacon, which I realized I hadn't eaten in a long while.

Contessa was my mom.

My stomach dropped. Was last night just a dream? I got up, setting down my blanket silently.

The chilling feeling persisted as my swarm scouted the blocks around my house. I checked every doorway, every window that had our house in sight. Each step I took down the stairs felt unreal.

When I arrived at the kitchen, I paused at the sight of my dad. He looked... lighter. His shoulders weren't sagging so much, as if a heavy burden was lifted from him. His head jerked around, face surprised. Why would he be surprised?

"Oh, Taylor," he said, smiling.

"Dad," I said. I still felt that chill. That feeling that I was wrong.

"You just missed your mom."

Oh.

"She's gone?" I said, calmly.

Dad went silent for a bit. "Yeah. She said she had something to do."

"Right," I murmured, hesitating. "...Did she tell you what?"

"If you mean everything that Cauldron does, yeah," he went back to facing the stove. "She told me everything. The experiments, the waivers, the people on life support—"

Life support?

"...and the terminally ill, the—"

I remembered a girl with tendrils for a body, from somewhere. I couldn't remember, exactly, but I knew she was just a child. Who knew how many Case Fifty-Threes were children?

I tried not to shout, "And you're not even a bit mad?"

"Taylor, she's—" he piled the pancakes on a plate. "She's your mom. She's my wife. My family. I already suspected that she had blood on her hands—"

'She kidnapped children,' I thought to myself. I didn't want to make this day start off worse.

"—Back when we were dating. She's implied multiple times that I wouldn't love her as much if I knew what she did, but now I know."

Dad turned around with the plate. His eyes were fully defiant.

And he spoke, "I understand that she had no choice. That she did her best. And I still do."

A part of me felt hypocritical, yet warm, because it reminded me of how he stuck with me even after I ended up becoming something of a Warlord. Even after I killed Alexandria. Part of me felt like—No, knew—that these were incomparable to what Cauldron did. What Contessa did, from all the reports I'd seen after the Echidna incident.

I was conflicted. I didn't want to hurt my dad anymore. I didn't want to take away his happiness at mom's return. But... I wanted him to know the truth. I didn't want to assume that Contessa told him everything.

Still, a little thought entered my head. Did she tell him why they were doing these things? I knew it wasn't the Endbringers... So what was it?

I opened my mouth, "Did she tell you—"

An alarm rang, taking our attention.

I breathed. Right, the Wards.

I locked eyes with my dad.

I needed to join the Wards. The questions could come later.

"Let's eat, first," dad said. "Take a seat, I'm gonna go find where I put the syrup."

I nodded, walking away.

I didn't know why I still felt energy welling up in me. Yesterday I was so mentally drained from how much was going on. I was still reeling from the revelation that Cauldron and my mom were always related, but I...

Yeah, maybe I just had to keep being a hero. Do the right things without having to be like Contessa.

Chapter Text

Humming, droning.

A hum that felt so futuristic it felt like merely a sound effect and not a byproduct of the elevator's machinery.

A ding, and metal doors slid open.

The underground room was vast, with a high domed ceiling. A computer console with a dozen monitors sat to my right, white-colored with occasional streaks of blue and silver, and were surrounded by two groups of similarly-colored chairs where the Wards now reacted to my entrance, turning around, but I was still looking everywhere.

The far end was walled off into several smaller rooms. The doors at the sides which I knew led to the bathrooms were walled off. Huh.

It was different to the Chicago Wards Headquarters, but similar in aesthetics. The last time I was here was when we broke in, and everything was too dark to appreciate fully.

I breathed it in. The cool, sterilized air, the sheer presence of this place without me having broken into it, and the fact that I was now a member of the Wards.

Of course, I was still on probation just like every new Ward, but this time I didn't have an ankle monitor or someone needing to accompany me whenever I went outside.

I remember being surprised at the sheer amount of surveillance here. Years of being a Ward now made me chuckle at my past self. Hell, I should've been Protectorate by now, but my age didn't allow me, and I wasn't willing to risk the open knowledge of me being from the future.

I now wore a PRT-issue spandex bodysuit that was a little bit loose, and my whole head was covered in what I knew was a generic trooper helmet. The Wards had been notified of my cape name and my powers, but not my civilian identity.

As I approached, the capes stood up from their chairs. Notably absent from the group were Triumph, Aegis, the other guy whose name I forgot—the one with the almost-grotesque muscles and tacky outfit—and Shadow Stalker herself, somehow.

Hmm.

But earlier, when the elevator doors opened, I was surprised at who were the ones nearest to me.

A curly brown haired girl with a face full of freckles, and a platinum-blonde with a golden tiara.

Panacea and Glory Girl, members of New Wave. Both were in their white costumes, and both wore visitor IDs. I felt a bit subdued at the fact that Panacea was here, coincidentally, just when I'd joined. I suppressed a sigh. I really should prepare myself for more coincidences in the future.

Next to Glory Girl, I saw a maskless Gallant. Blonde-haired, broad-shouldered, and more handsome than I expected. Dean Stansfield, rich kid, heir to his parents' company.

Rich enough to buy powers from Cauldron. Was he informed of me by them? Contessa said nothing about it.

Wearing his futuristic-yet-medieval power armor, Dean approached first, and he smiled.

"Welcome to the team, Weaver," he said, holding out an armored hand for me to shake.

Of course, I took it. Idly, I thought about what I knew of him, and what he could have possibly known of Panacea. I knew he was an empath, and I thought that maybe he could have possibly known what Panacea felt for his girlfriend. What Panacea felt for her adoptive sister.

If he did know, I wonder if he ever planned on telling his girlfriend that her sister had feelings for her. I knew he died too early, too young, back then.

I should stop thinking about that.

"Sorry about the secret identity thing," I said. "I sort of have to hide it, for now. Orders from above. Maybe next week?"

Next week was a whole six days later. Enough time to deal with Coil.

"It's fine," Dean waved it off, "Wanna meet the rest of the Wards?"

No one was wearing their helmet. Vista, a blonde kid named Missy, wore green body armor with a light-green skirt with swooping lines of white and dark green. Kid Win, named Chris, wore body armor with panels of red and gold, with a red visor. Clockblocker, a redhead named Dennis, wore a full-body white costume with white, interlocking armor panels that reminded me of a knight's joint armor, but smoother. The panels were covered in various-sized grey inscriptions of clocks.

He gave a cheeky grin and a small wave. I still remembered how the internet shipped us both. Still, I endeavored to be nice.

I nodded, "Sure!"

As Dean made the introductions, and with me idly shaking their hands and saying compliments, I thought about what Panacea did to Glory Girl.

"I've heard of you, Kid Win."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I read up on—"

I could recall something about her making the Slaughterhouse Nine leave, in exchange for... something. Whatever happened, it ended with Glory Girl in an asylum, horrifically mutated, a living blob of body parts with multiple blonde heads. The files weren't complete with information, but still, what was available was graphic enough.

And I had a plan.

If Panacea could do something like that, she could possibly do the opposite, and the opposite was exactly what I needed. What Noelle needed.

When the introductions finished, I saw Panacea and Glory Girl leaving. Dean started to talk.

"The quarters are—"

"Sorry. Just—" I made an apologetic shrug. "Just one second."

"Sure," he smiled with amusement.

I rushed to the two sisters, who now turned at my approach, their eyes curious.

"Hi," I said, "I'm Weaver, the newest member of the Wards. I'm a big fan of you, Panacea!"

She was my closest hope to ever getting Noelle healed up, and we needed her healed as soon as possible if I didn't want a giant monster sitting in someone's basement and possibly attracting the attention of an Endbringer.

"Hey," Panacea said, waving a hand.

"Come on, Ames," Glory Girl elbowed her sister, "She's a fan, at least try to be friendly."

"I am friendly," Amy looked offended.

I interjected, and spoke, "I actually have a favour to ask, if you have time?"

They both looked at me at the same time. Glory Girl's smile turned fake, and Amy's face became even more guarded.

"Sorry," Amy spoke, "I'm not actually allowed to do favours."

She turned, walking away, while her sister glared at me with a polite smile.

"Maybe some other time," Glory Girl said. But I wasn't focused on her. My attention was on Amy.

I spoke just to her, "You're a biokinetic, right?"

She froze, and turned around. Glory Girl didn't hear.

"What—" Amy stuttered, squinting at me. "How did you know about that?"

"Ames?" Glory Girl looked furious. "Let's go."

"I have a patient that needs help from a biokinetic," I said.

"Back off," she said. "Look at her. You're making her uncomfortable—"

"She's experiencing a power issue where her lower half is mutated and slowly growing."

"...What?"

"It's making her life miserable," I continued. "She's been looking for years for a cure, and so far she's found nothing. She wants to be normal, to live a normal life, and get out there, but she can't. Just having her legs again would be enough."

Amy looked interested. "You're saying it like she's not a Case Fifty-Three."

Glory Girl interjected, "She can't do Case Fifty-Threes. Sorry."

That wasn't true. I controlled my reaction. "She isn't. She has no tattoo, and she used to be normal. I think she'd prefer it if the one who healed her is a hero. I'm not saying that you have to succeed, just that you try."

She sighed. "Look, I get you, but you have to think about what this means for my sister. She can't just show—"

"I mean, I'd do it."

We both looked at Amy, who averted her eyes at our gazes.

"I'll just have to try, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You don't have to do it now, just when you're ready. She's also a bit... massive. Besides, there's still a scheduling issue that we're having, so she might be available from anywhere between three weeks or more from now."

"Oh," she said. Glory Girl gave her a look.

"Yeah," I said, then I put on more cheer into my voice. "Thank you for considering my request. I don't have a phone yet, but maybe Gallant could give my info to you soon?"

"Sure," Panacea said. "Just know that my schedule could change anytime, so there's a chance I won't be able to do it."

Glory Girl smiled. "You know, maybe you could have asked for help using our official stuff—"

'I would have,' I thought to myself, 'but she was right there.'

"Vicky," Panacea hissed.

"—But you've got the guts to become a hero," she continued. "Doing the right thing even though you know you could fail is, honestly, one of the best qualities there is."

"Thank you," I said.

Glory Girl and Panacea waved farewell, then left together.

"Oh, sorry," Gallant said, his finger on an earpiece. "We just got an update. We're supposed to show you off, but if you want, we could just—"

"I'll do it."

Missy beamed at me.

"Whenever you're comfortable," Gallant said, sticking to his namesake. Hah.

"Why don't we go now?" I said.

"I was going out, anyways," Missy said, grabbing her visor. "It's better with more people."

"Let's show her the ropes, folks," Dennis said.

"I'll man the console," Chris said.

They all went to pick up their headgear, and I smiled behind my own. Sure, this was the perfect opportunity to keep scouting the city, but it would be the first time that I'd ever been introduced as a hero. No dark past, no criminal record, just...

Hero.

Nearly the entire Wards team accompanied me, barring Kid Win who manned the console. We all patrolled on foot, with Vista occasionally using her power to help us all cross roads faster.

We had just one PRT squad escorting us, which I thought was less than expected.

I looked up.

The skyscrapers and buildings around the PRT HQ were a sight to behold. The deep-blue gradient of the sky reflected off the glass windows, and the sight above was framed like a picture, clouds lazily passing by. I never really managed to see this before Leviathan toppled everything.

I missed this city.

"So what's your power?" Vista asked.

I took a breath, getting out of my stupor. Oops.

"I control bugs," I said, and I saw her minutely-disgusted look. "Fine arthropodokinesis, with me being able to sense their individual locations and talk using them."

"Holy cheese," Clockblocker whispered.

"It's not that bad!" Vista poked him. "It's good. It's good for recon, because who would expect—"

Conversation flowed. With an impromptu idea in mind, I tried gathering the butterflies in my range, but there weren't many. About thirty or so, and most of them came from some apartment garden with open windows.

Our route was along the most popular tourist spots, from Downtown to the Docks and back again.

With my power back, I had more freedom to scout the areas compared to before. I didn't need to see things with my own eyes.

And so, on the way to the local PRT headquarters, I checked for where the Undersiders would have been. I don't remember them saying if they've ever changed lairs, but I still looked. I had my dad pass within six or so blocks where I knew the loft was, searching the area for traces of their presence.

I didn't have time to visit them right then, or to check in to see their faces, so I had to make do.

I thought about the timeline of events. When did the Travelers arrive? When did Noelle get transfered to some hidden basement in Brockton? How did they do it? Where was she, before getting put inside the bunker?

While my power was still unknown to the majority, even if Coil himself knew, I wanted to scout as many of the local rogues and eventually recruit them into the Wards, if not at least try to help them keep themselves safe better.

I wanted to keep doing what I used to during my tenure with the Chicago Wards.

Everyone deserved a second chance, with or without the apocalypse looking above us all.

What did Dinah say again? Fifteen to sixteen years, or eight if Jack Slash died. Two if Jack Slash was alive. That's seventeen years at most, three if everything goes the same way.

But I had Cauldron on my side, or at least I hoped so. They didn't want the end of the world as much as I did, and as much as I disliked my own mother at the moment, I didn't believe she'd do things for vanity's sake.

Still, I doubted they'd let me chase off Jack and the Nine. I was too weak, too physically unfit, even though most of my muscle memory had accompanied me. And there was the issue with the Simurgh.

Suddenly, a voice spoke in our earpieces. Triumph. "You guys showing off the new recruit?"

"Console," I said. "They are."

I heard a chuckle. "Copy that. Welcome to the team." 

"Thank you," I said.

"Hope they're not being too tough on you," he said.

"Nope. They're being very nice to me."

"I'll keep these two in check," Gallant spoke lightly.

Clockblocker scoffed. "We're not that bad."

Suddenly, I chuckled. The memory of Triumph saying basically the same thing entered my memory.

"Don't engage her."

"That's good," he said. "If you ever need help, we'll be here on console duty."

"Thanks again."

The butterflies I could get were finally arriving, and the three of them looked. I made them fly in circles around me, then in the shape of wings, then in a spiral surrounding me—some PR tricks that Glenn taught me. I could see the more of the crowd pulling out their phones and taking pictures.

Cauldron thought they could just hide from the shadows and still have the trust of the people. With my mother's power, maybe it could have been true, but everything that had happened in my past life suggested otherwise. It wasn't enough.

I didn't want to be like them.

Some of the butterflies settled onto my helmet like a crown, and the others were free to fly around me and settle on my PRT suit. A few drifted off, flying around the Wards. Vista wowed.

"Okay," Clockblocker said. "I get it now."

I turned to look at him.

"I look pretty, don't I?"

"Uh..." he froze.

"You are!" Vista laughed.

"You okay, Clock?" Gallant teased, poking him.

"Okay guys, stop." Clockblocker raised his hands. "Just stop it."

Patrol was nice and cozy. We stuck to the streets and the sidewalks, occasionally taking pictures with strangers—Kids, adults, and elderly alike. Butterflies were unsurprisingly popular.

The kids... I wondered what happened to them, in the end.

We'd already gone past Arcadia, which was pretty close to the PRT ENE Headquarters, then we passed the bank that the Undersiders and I robbed.

On our way north, nearing the Docks, I could see Hookwolf at the edge of my range, along with a group of six skinheads, doing a patrol of their own. Young men and women, the youngest being someone around thirteen, maybe younger.

I could hear his gruff voice. "—if any one of you wants to back off, come to me, and I'll baby you since you'd deserve it. You shouldn't be ashamed, since we belong here, and they don't."

He was recruiting people, but... This sounded familiar. Instead of Lung, now I was dealing with Nazis. Another coincidence.

But I thought about the capes with me and their powers. Gallant, Clockblocker, and Vista. I wasn't exactly allowed to take lead since I was still on probation, but I could nudge us a little.

That felt a little wrong to do, and I didn't know why.

Still, I started walking in front of our group. We were heading to the Docks, anyways, so there shouldn't be much of a resistance.

"Where are you going?" Vista asked, walking faster.

"Just felt like it," I said. Not every conversation is a fight. "Is it—is this okay?"

"Vista," Clockblocker said. "It's still kinda en route, so why not?"

"Well..." she hesitated.

"Can we?" I said, making her sigh.

"I think it's fine," Gallant said. "I'm with Clock."

"Well," she made a face. "It wouldn't hurt. We just need to stay out of trouble."

"Escort," he said. "We're switching paths."

"Trouble?"

"None. Just a different route."

I couldn't beat Hookwolf. I was too unfit, too fragile, and my power wasn't useful when he began transforming.

But I could scare away his lackeys.

Stop them, before it's too late. Or maybe it was, but that wouldn't stop me from trying.

And they needed to know it was me.

I wanted to hide as much of my abilities as possible before Coil was dealt with. I didn't go all out during power testing, but I could always write that off as me being too unskilled with my power. Much as that could be believed.

With Gallant, Vista, and Clockblocker, we could survive against Hookwolf.

The crowds thinned as we approached the Docks, and Hookwolf kept chatting with his recruits.

Meanwhile, I chatted with the three.

"What's the Wards usually like?" I asked.

Vista perked up and started talking, with Clockblocker occasionally adding stuff and making jokes.

"Oh, you know," she said. "We're just like any normal group of teens. We have both good and bad eggs, or sometimes people switch between the two."

"I'm always good," Clockblocker said. I huffed.

"Well, we try our best," she tilted her head.

"I noticed not everyone was there," I said. "Where were the others?"

I haven't seen Vista this... excited. Ever.

She reminded me of myself.

We talked about how Shadow Stalker was deployed somewhere on a mission, and how she probably won't be here in a few days. I noted the sheer coincidence of her being absent during this time, how I didn't even remember this happen in my first life.

She turned to a tangent about Shadow Stalker, where Vista warned me and tried her best to make Sophia seem misunderstood and not just a bully, while Gallant supported her point and Clockblocker tried to derail it even more, occasionally laughing. We talked about other stuff, like what sort of events the Wards usually attended and how to cheat the system, getting more personal time or getting out of doing stuff. All the while, we closed in on the wandering Nazis.

They were talking about proving themselves. About hurting minorities, all to join the Empire. Officialization. Something I knew they didn't do every other week.

Even with their lack of regular recruitment, it was surprising how many recruits they always had.

Clockblocker was talking about his experience after he chose his name, about one of Glenn's understudies subtly berating him but not saying the words themselves, and we were just around one block away from the group. Thankfully, there was nobody else walking outside around this area.

My butterflies began resting on my shoulders, looking behind us. Vista made the crossing shorter, and we walked past it.

Hookwolf stood at the very back of his group, and one of the skinheads crossed the street. The rest followed. Cockroaches crawled along walls, and flies stayed on the edges of dumpsters, watching, tailing them.

One block.

Gallant talked about the difficulty of balancing being a Ward and being a student. How he felt lucky that the local PRT helped with making up excuses. Vista shortened the sidewalk, bringing it closer to the corner where both our groups would intersect.

Bugs gathered towards our location, creeping behind pipes, behind broken bricks, between every crack on the street, on top of lamp posts. Everywhere out of their sight, but not where Vista needed to use her power on.

Walk. Walk. Walk.

And then a bald woman passed the corner, revealing herself to our view, then several shaved figures followed. Six people, none wearing anything relating them to the Empire Eighty-Eight.

They turned their heads collectively, stopping, bumping into each other, and Vista turned the space between us normal, and it stretched back to its regular position.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, we stopped walking.

A moment passed.

Clockblocker's voice was serious. "Console," he said. "We bumped into the Empire."

Then Hookwolf turned the corner, not looking at us. He was barefoot and topless, showing of the lean muscles of someone who had nothing else to do but fight. His chest and arms were covered in thick hair, and one of his arms had a tattooed wolf with a swastika behind it, and the other had a large "E88".

He turned, full-bodied, and Gallant, Clockblocker, Vista, and I met his pale-blue eyes.

"Look what we have here," Hookwolf said, his masked face going over our group. He didn't use his power, surprisingly enough.

The Empire members next to him tried to put up a bravado. Cocky smirks, wide body language, swaggering. Even without my bugs, it was easy to see that half of them were awkward and new. Young, but old enough they should know better.

"Headed somewhere?" I asked.

The Wards turned towards me in shock.

"Weaver," Clockblocker hissed.

Hookwolf swaggered towards us, occupying the space between us and his group. "We're not doing anything," he said.

"Be advised," Triumph said. "Call for backup if need be, but if nothing is happening, you're recommended to just let them go on their way."

Vista muttered, "This is suspicious as hell."

"What's that?" Hookwolf cupped his ear mockingly. "Did your parents tell you to fuck off?"

The skinheads laughed, and Vista's breath hitched.

'Holy shit,' I thought. From what I remembered of Vista's file, he was closer to the truth than he expected.

A new presence entered my range, like a sphere where air didn't exist. I shifted the bugs with the best eyesight on it.

Tall and fit shirtless man, wearing loose-fitting pants. He wore chains around his forearms and calves which jiggled as he walked. A blue-white tiger mask covered his face.

Stormtiger. My stomach dropped.

"Console," I spoke. "Just say the word and we'll back off."

"Did I say something wrong?" Hookwolf continued. "Well, if you wouldn't mind, would you all kindly leave us alone?"

"Disengage. Retreat," Triumph said, sighing.

"Okay, guys," Clockblocker said urgently. "Let's go."

We turned to leave.

One of the skinheads, a young-adult man, crowed. Others joined him. "You don't mess with us!"

"Shut up," Hookwolf growled. He corralled his group away.

Clockblocker muttered, "Pathetic."

Vista was silent.

"Let's go," Gallant said, head turned to watch our backs. We made it to one block when I overheard something.

"You just missed them," Hookwolf said.

"Who?" Stormtiger patted his pants.

"Wards," he replied. "There's a new one. A brave one. Girl. Tried to stop our group from 'Patrolling' and her teammates tried to stop her."

"The fuckers keep multiplying."

Hookwolf chuckled at that.

"Ah," Stormtiger said.

"What?"

"I'm going to buy a cig," he murmured. "You can go on without me."

And he just... left. The recruits watched on in awe.

I stilled, rooted in place.

"Weaver?" Gallant noticed. The others stopped.

What was I doing?

"I'd accept it," Tecton said. "But I won't lie and say I'll be fine."

What the hell was I doing?

I closed my eyes, and I took a deep, calming breath.

"What if we wait a bit?" I spoke.

"We could just call for backup right now," Vista said. "We do still need to finish the patrol. Besides, the Protectorate heroes are stronger and more experienced. We don't need to do this. Maybe we could take Hookwolf, but you're new, Weaver. No offense."

"What if they're too late?" I asked.

"We could ask," she said. "Like, right now."

"But they haven't done anything yet," Clockblocker said. "We're not supposed to call in for nothing."

"Gallant," I spoke. "What do you think?"

"We could go with what Weaver said," Gallant said. "You can track them, right?"

I nodded.

"How does that work?" Vista asked.

Clockblocker piped up, "Probably by putting bugs on people and getting a vague topology of them using bugs as points."

Her nose scrunched. "Oh."

"He's right," I said.

"How far is your range?" Gallant asked.

"Three blocks in any direction, give or take."

Clockblocker inhaled sharply. "Wow."

"You can tell us if they start doing anything."

"Alright," I raised a hand. "But I'm just after the recruits. I know we can't beat Hookwolf, but I want to at least discourage more people trying to join the Empire."

"Hit and run?" Clockblocker asked.

"Sure," Vista piped up. "If we ask for backup asap."

"Gallant, you hang back," I said. "If things go bad, you'd call for backup. You'd be far enough from us that you wouldn't be attacked by them. Besides, your power is suited for long range."

"So is yours," Clockblocker said.

Gallant hummed. "I don't think it could penetrate Hookwolf's changer form."

"You don't need to," I said. "You just need to make his recruits run off."

Gallant felt like he was studying me. "Is this your first fight using your power?"

I paused.

"No," I said the truth. He could sense emotions with his power, according to the files I read. A swirling cloud of colors.

Besides, I didn't want to lie too much.

"Okay," he said. "If you're sure. How much of the Wards' rulebook do you know?"

"Almost everything."

"Really?" Clockblocker scoffed. "Took me years to actually finish it."

"So did I," I said.

"Wait," Vista tilted her head. "How long did you have your powers?"

"Just recently," I smiled behind my helmet. I should probably stop the teasing. "So are we going? I think they're going to do something soon."

The three of them looked at each other.

"Aw, geez," Clockblocker sighed. "Vista, are you in?"

"Fine."

"Me too," Gallant said. "Try to keep each other safe, alright?"

Clockblocker chuckled. "I'm the oldest. Aren't I supposed to say that?"

"Okay," I said.

"Weaver," Gallant said. "Keep them in your range."

"Got it."

Vista studied me as we walked. "How did you finish reading all the stuff they make you read to work with the PRT?" she asked, voice turning sceptical. "Did you even read all of them? Can you list them all?"

I smirked behind my helmet. "Sure."

I could see the group huddling around a grocery, situated on the corner of a street. Hookwolf leaned against a wall, his arms crossed, silent. Hooks and blades were poking out slightly on his entire body, like an extension of his natural hair. One of the skinheads, a boy maybe around fourteen years old, went inside and started breaking things and throwing stuff around. He then pulled out a gun.

And the storeowner was a black, aging man.

"Gallant," I said. "Stay at a distance from us."

I didn't give him a chance to reply as I rushed towards the scene, speedwalking. I was too unfit that I knew I'd exhaust myself if I ran or jogged.

A few bugs—local cockroaches from a nearby dumpster—began approaching the boy and started getting on the arm holding the gun.

"Weaver, wait up!" Vista said.

The owner saw the scene and ducked as the boy tried fighting off the bugs. Outside, the group laughed and scoffed. I could see the owner reach for a shotgun below the counter. Not a good idea with Hookwolf just outside, or maybe he'd let one of his recruits die.

"Weaver," Gallant said. "What's going on?"

My voice trembled from my steps. "They're finally doing something."

"Oh fudge," Clockblocker said. "Uh, why aren't you running?"

"Because I'm not physically fit." I said.

"Where do we go?" Vista asked. "I could use my power to help us get there faster."

"Are you sure?" I wanted her to go all in with me.

"We wouldn't be heroes if we turned away."

I smiled behind my mask.

"Okay," I said. "They're a little to our northwest. I'll tell you when to turn corners."

"Whew... Okay."

Vista began to lead, shifting the space before us, compressing it. I made sure to use my bugs to kick every rat and insect out of our way to help Vista go faster. I gave directions, with us going through alleys and crossing roads as we took the shortcut. Gallant constantly stayed a block behind us.

I felt exhilaration. I felt alive.

"Do you need help?" Clockblocker asked. "You look like you're about to—"

"I'm fine," I slowed down. "Thanks for the offer."

He shrugged.

"I'm going to attack now," I said.

"Remember not to escalate," Gallant said. "Just make sure they know we're here."

My swarm gathered as a cloud above, the shadow looming over the Nazis, making them look up.

Dread.

Teenagers weren't always scared of insects, not exactly. They felt disgusted, repelled, or maybe just annoyed. But at the numbers I was gathering?

It would be a surprise if they weren't even a little afraid. The presence of superpowers only made you number to the powers that looked cool, not powers that made you react viscerally, reaching deeper into your psyche.

At some point, people stop comprehending how strong things really are. They only feel them.

I was going to be a hero, but I didn't need to stop using the skills I've learned. I didn't need to dress myself up pretty for the ones I'm fighting. No one here would think I'd turn back to my villainous ways, because I've simply never been a villain to them.

The swarm spoke.

"Step away from the building."

"Vista," I said as Hookwolf chuckled. "I'll take point."

"Weaver—"

Hookwolf drawled, "Well, well. Who are you?"

"Weaver."

"Pull me out with your power," I continued. "Can you make a window inside your field just large enough for Clockblocker to extend a hand?"

Vista sighed. We were getting close. The store owner started looking over the counter, which I discouraged by spelling out "RESCUE STAY DOWN" in the air.

"I think I'm getting the idea," Clockblocker wheezed.

"So, Weaver," Hookwolf said. "Care to show your face?"

"Gladly."

"So you act as bait?" Vista said.

"Yeah," I replied. I took a deep breath.

"And when I pull you away, you want me to push away Hookwolf while making a small enough field inside of it where Clock can extend his hand and freeze him."

"Yep. We're almost in the corner. Stand back while you expand the space, please."

"Sounds good," Clockblocker said.

Step, step, step. A few moments passed, and we turned the dark alleyway. The storeowner cursed and muttered under his breath, hugging his gun.

"Past that, to the left" I said. "Are you ready?"

Hookwolf tilted his head. "Then where the hell are you?"

"I'm ready."

"Ready."

Gathering my bugs around me, making sure not to leave them in front of the space that Vista modified, I stepped out, and turned to my left, accompanied by another cloud of bugs.

Hookwolf chuckled.

The road shifted, and stretched, and as I stepped forward, the space behind me expanded.

"I'm right here," I spoke along with my swarm.

"Vista," he said. "She's here, isn't she."

"Why do you ask?"

"Are you scared?"

More bugs gathered to our location, creeping in and flying from the edges, and I made sure to not alert Stormtiger.

Leaning against a brick wall, he took a drag of his cigarette, and huffed.

"Fuck," one of the skinheads whispered, and thus began a cascade of mutterings.

"Why should I be?" I said. "You're not as scary as you think you are."

That made Hookwolf scowl.

"Quiet," he growled.

The skinheads went silent. If Hookwolf was stalling, I didn't want to let him.

"Where's your friend?" I said.

There was a good chunk of distance between me and Hookwolf. Enough space so that he couldn't rush me even while transforming, giving me enough time.

"You're not as scary as you think, either," Hookwolf said. "It's okay to be scared. I wouldn't blame you. You've got nothing but bugs. Weak, small, easy to kill. A hundred, a thousand, it all means nothing. Small things like you need strength in numbers, but you'll never be strong enough."

"Then why are you just standing there?"

The youths behind him were scared, but not yet terrified. Hookwolf tilted this head.

"I don't want this fight," he said, still with that cocky voice of his. "And neither do you."

"Then back off," I said.

He paused for a moment, and then he started laughing. Full-blown laughter.

"Listen," he crooned. "We go easy on you Wards because killing you would get the big guys hanging over our heads. But you? A newbie? You're not important enough. You really think I can't get away with cutting your arms off, girl?"

I sighed. You won't.

My swarms attacked, two clouds of insects swallowing the group in its wake. Bugs covered every single one of the recruits, making them scream as flies and spiders blocked their faces and tied silk around them, and carefully-selected ants stung them beneath their clothes. I made sure to send every bug near me away, for Vista.

"Fucking hell!" Hookwolf growled, breaking the silk around him.

He began transforming.

Space warped behind me, and I tried to fly back, reaching through the bugs on my pack. Nothing happened. There were no bugs.

What? My heart dropped, then I remembered I didn't have my flight pack.

I jumped back.

"YOU'RE RUNNING?!"

A hand on my earpiece.

"Confusion!"

"Firing."

My bugs intercepted his sight. It took a single second before he was out of my view, and a ball of emotion flew over my head. I turned to my left, and saw Vista breathing heavily, her arms outstretched.

"Okay," she said.

I turned around, and the space in Hookwolf's path was expanding as the space I just occupied turned to normal, like a spacial treadmill.

But then he stopped running.

"Clock!"

"On it!"

Hookwolf's massive form stayed in place as he snarled, the sound dulled by the warped space.

And then it turned normal.

The space directly between Hookwolf and Clockblocker thinned, a window that could fit an arm that fell unnoticed by the nazi himself, and Clockblocker reached out with his hand, his head tilting away, with my bugs vacating the contact point.

White-clad fingers touched a mass of blades, swords, and hooks, and the giant wolf froze. He wasn't fast enough to avoid it.

Clockblocker looked back at the sight. The space slowly turned to normal.

"No," I said. "Make the space between us bigger."

"Oookay," Vista breathed. Her hands rose again.

Clockblocker gave a startled laugh. "Should we run?"

I looked at the two of them. My mind felt more clear than before.

What the hell did I just do?

Tecton's disappointed face entered my mind.

Gallant's voice crackled, interrupting my thoughts. "Our PRT escort is sending in someone with containment foam."

"Don't," I said. "I think we should let him go."

"Weaver."

"The rest of the Empire is coming soon. You know it. Those skinheads are probably calling them right now—" For which I tied more silk around them. "We need to move fast. Don't let them make arrests, either."

A sigh. "Okay, fair point. Cancelling."

"Got it," Vista said. She began using her power, shortening our way out.

We ran.

"That was surprisingly easy," Clockblocker said.

"Sir," my swarm spoke to the store owner, who was holding his shotgun, aiming at the tied-up skinheads. Their eyes looked on with hate.

"What?" The old man said. "You going to stop me? Some hero you are."

"I suggest you leave before the rest of the Empire arrives, which is," I paused, faking thought, lying, "within the next minute."

"Shit," he said, scurrying away.

My swarm covered the recruits and began cutting through the silk, making them panic.

"Don't throw in your lot with the Nazis."

There was only so much that I could say to them before diminishing returns.

"Next time," my swarm spoke. "Make sure I don't see you with the Empire."

The silk loosened enough, and they all stilled, not knowing what to do.

"Run."

And so they got up and ran in every direction.

Within moments, and with our group and the storeowner running in opposite directions, he was out of my range.

On the way, heart pounding in my chest, blood rushing through my ears, I thought about the Travelers.

I wanted to approach them before Coil did, but I didn't know when that happened, so I endeavoured to take care of Coil first and foremost.

I couldn't access PRT resources directly until my probation was over. I could ask the other Wards, but that would clue someone in. The internet wouldn't be helpful, considering the Travelers stick to their namesake. I'd possibly miss them repeatedly.

Who did I know that had the resources to search for them, but wasn't Coil, or the Wards?

My mother's face entered my mind.

No. Who did I know that wasn't Cauldron?

A large, armored man walked into the briefing room, and I sighed internally. Armsmaster.

Blue panels with silver highlights, he looked the part of a hero—although a part of me thought that my association with him being a hero was due to PRT propaganda. Chicken and the egg.

"What you did was dangerous," Armsmaster said. In spite of this, I could see a little smirk on the corner of his unmasked mouth, his beard warping on its stylized, sharp edges.

He looked cockier than I remembered.

"It was my call, sir," Gallant's voice was firm. "Weaver notified us of Hookwolf's group harassing a grocery. I made the choice to engage."

Miss Militia entered the room, wearing fatigues. Brown-skinned, her dark hair up in a ponytail. Her sash of the American flag flattened as she leaned with her back to the wall, her hand on what I saw was a type of rifle, using it as a cane. She wore another US flag to cover her lower face, and what little I could see held a seriously expression.

Her eyes scanned us.

"Yet Weaver took point," Armsmaster murmured, voice rumbling. "Long-ranged master, yet she's in the frontlines. Why?"

I opened my mouth.

"I asked," Gallant said. "We made sure she'd be safe."

"Clockblocker," Armsmaster said. "As the eldest of the present Wards, you were supposed to be the one in charge. Why didn't you stop them?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"Clock."

"Because we had an opportunity to scare off some Nazis," Clockblocker said. "Stop them from getting new recruits. We had to show our faces for them to get the point, show that we outnumbered them. Associate her face with her power. She was safe, we had Vista ready to pull us back at any moment."

I didn't speak up.

"Besides," he raised his hands. "I don't think Weaver could have a better debut than her coming with us to basically humiliate the Empire. I mean, think about it."

"Alright, that's enough," Armsmaster said. "Vista?"

"There wasn't enough time to call for backup," Vista said. "We had to make a move before anyone was hurt. Weaver made the decision to take point so that they'd know there was someone else in the vicinity."

He frowned, but stayed silent.

"You didn't use her as bait, did you?"

"No, sir," Clockblocker lied. I wonder when Armsmaster developed his lie detection tech?

"Good. We don't want to make a bad first impression on our newest recruit. Speaking of—"

They didn't talk about Stormtiger, or how close we were to fighting two Empire capes, and Armsmaster was still relatively cheery, which led me to the only conclusion that could possibly be true...

They didn't know.

"Welcome to the Wards, Weaver," Armsmaster gave a winning smile. "And don't ever do that again. Clockblocker."

If they did know, we'd be in a lot more trouble.

Clockblocker sighed. "Yes, sir."

"Come with me."

I received my PRT-Issue phone, and surprisingly enough, Kid Win offered to build me my own flight pack so soon.

The thought of flying again made me feel a bit better.

My new quarters at the Wards HQ was finally set up, and I took the opportunity to lay in something a bit more familiar.

More familiar than home. That thought was... sadder than I expected.

I already called my dad about the PRT expecting me to stay over for at least the time being, and he said no worries.

So as I laid in bed, staring up at the domed ceiling, I thought about the results of the recent scan on my brain. On my Gemma. Unchanged, from what I remembered. It wasn't any bigger or smaller—I'd almost memorized its very shape—and even though I didn't know exactly how passengers worked, I knew I didn't gain something new.

The travelling back in time... It wasn't my power.

If it wasn't me, then how did this happen?

My phone rang.

The screen showed a number I didn't recognize, but I only hesitated for a second before picking up.

I opened my mouth—

"Taylor," my mother's voice spoke. "It's been a while."

My breathing felt heavy. An image popped into my head, of mom, in her car, her suit jacket on a chair, calling my number and failing to connect all because Emma and I put the music up too loud.

I swallowed.

"Mom," I said.

Contessa sighed. "I'm sorry if this brought up any bad memories. I'm sorry for leaving. I'm here, now."

I took a breath. "Yeah," I swallowed again. "It's fine. I'm... I went to therapy, for this."

Her voice was gentle. "I'm still sorry, little owl."

I pursed my lips.

"Okay," I said.

A moment passed in silence, and I didn't hang up. I didn't want to hang up.

"You know," she began. "Your Gram would have supported your cape career. But she'd, well..."

"Try to control me?" I smiled.

"Your image, at least. She'd try to tell you to never swear and always be polite. Stay away from heroes with bad reputations. Make friends with powerful people."

"Better than Glenn, I guess."

"Glenn Chambers is one of the PRT's most valuable assets. I devote paths for his survival."

I huffed a laugh.

She spoke, "I was originally going to ask about what happened in your future, about events before you regressed to yesterday. Will you fill me in?"

"You can't use your power to get that?"

"I could," she agreed. "But I have blindspots that mean there are certain events I would have to simulate, which lowers my accuracy."

"Right," I said. "Scion was there. He's one of your blindspots."

"That explains it," Contessa said. "Could you start off with the Killington fight?"

I began to give her a brief summary of how everything happened.

Theo's bet with Jack, the Killington massacre, the breaking of Ellisburg, Santa Fe Springs, Los Angeles...

"And then I intercepted him," I said. "Scion was one of the most powerful parahumans that existed, and just like with Eidolon, I didn't want him anywhere near this fight. So I tried to tell him to run off somewhere, but he didn't move or reply, so I went to go grab him and push him somewhere, but before I could, I found myself back in my bed at the—our uh, our house."

"So you didn't manage to touch him," Contessa said.

"Yeah," I said.

She didn't speak for a few moments.

Contessa continued, "And Jack Slash was the catalyst for the end of the world?"

"Dinah checked every day."

"I see." She sighed.

I stayed silent. I just remembered that I was going to look for the Travelers, and her timing couldn't have been more ominous.

"How are the Wards?" mom asked.

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.

"They're nice," I said, "and—"

We chatted more, after that. Talking about the Wards, of what I did in the past, my encounters with them, and my goals for now. Up on the PRT headquarters, my bugs saw troops rushing to and fro, like a bunch of disturbed ants. The Wards didn't get summoned, so I assumed everything was going well.

And then I recognized myself. Recognized where I was, what I was doing. Calling my mom, talking like there's no tomorrow. Tears welled up.

I missed this. I really did.

Aegis and I patrolled around the Docks, as far away from Downtown as possible, almost near my house. Where Grue's territory used to be. A short route that would take us around half an hour.

He wore rust-red armor with silver-white trims, and a matching helmet, with a shield emblem on his chest. Parts of it, like the eyes and his elbows, exposed his tan skin to the air.

He flew slowly, and I caught up with him using the hoverboard. Kid Win's personal one.

"Wanna try it out?" Kid Win offered. So I obliged and thanked him.

The rush of the movement. The swooping. The lifting up. I felt more normal than ever, even though the wind didn't sweep through my hair.

Aegis felt worried when he saw me using it, but after I managed to stay upright without falling off, he relented.

As I landed on a rooftop, I paused to take a breath. The view was of a familiar skyline. In the distance, I could see the neighborhood where our old lair was. The loft.

I could almost see their faces. Brian, Lisa, Rachel, Aisha... Alec.

"Weaver?" Aegis asked.

I stayed silent.

He sighed. "You know, you don't have to—"

"Sorry," my voice was clipped, and I sighed at my tone. "No really, sorry. I was just... I was lost in thought."

"It's fine," he said. They really were trying to be as gentle with me as possible.

I huffed a laugh.

"Okay," I said. "Why don't you take the lead for a bit?"

"Sure."

One last glance, memories rushing past my head.

I took off, catching up.