Railgun

*Chapter 1*: Arc 1: Loading—101

Summary: Instead of getting the power to control insects, Taylor receives a different power. A power seen before in A Certain Scientific Railgun.

Disclaimer: I don't own Worm or A Certain Scientific Railgun. Both belong to their creators. I am merely using them in my own sandbox.

AN: In my story, I have given Taylor the same powers as Mikoto Misaka of A Certain Scientific Railgun with certain small changes. I extrapolated small changes and additions to her powers based both on what I saw on the show and what she should be able to do. Some abilities have not expressed themselves yet, but will emerge in the future.

~~~Railgun~~~

Arc 1: Loading—1.01

I skipped out of class as soon as the bell rung, searching for a place of safety to eat lunch. An hour was far too long to have for lunch in my personal opinion. I slipped into the girls' bathroom, hoping for sanctuary. Finding it unoccupied, I slipped into a stall, locking the door behind me. I glanced up uneasily as the lights flickered, then sighed when it went back to normal. I quickly sat on the back of the toilet, my feet on the seat so no one would be able to easily find me.

Just like that, a sense of relief filled me. I was safe for now. Unwrapping the sandwich I brought for lunch, I ate it and an apple in quick, sharp bites, as I read the book I'd brought for company. Sadly, books were the only company I'd had for the past year and a half since starting high school.

It had all started right before my freshman year. Looking forward to seeing my best friend since first grade, Emma Barnes, for the first time in two months, having been off at Summer Camp, I had been shocked and hurt when she'd rejected me. Emma had claimed to have a new friend, Sophia Hess, an attractive and athletic African-American girl. And she wanted nothing to do with me anymore. It had made my chest hurt as little stabbing pains seemed to suffuse my heart.

Even Emma's rejection hadn't prepared me for the endless bullying that began with school. There their twosome had been joined by Madison Clements, a sweet-looking girl who always wore a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth expression. Since Sophia was a member of the track team, and my former best friend, Emma, a budding model, they appeared to those in authority an unlikely group to bully others. And were believed every time I tried to tell a teacher or the principal. Of course, reporting it only made it worse.

And it did get worse constantly. At first, it was just words. Talking about how stupid I was. How weak. How worthless. From there, it had slowly escalated to pushing me around, knocking my books out of my arms, constantly bumping into me in the halls. Then I had started finding things in my seat or occasionally dumped on me, orange juice, soda, or glue. All of these slights had hurt, but it was only the tip of the iceberg.

Then they'd started breaking into my locker and stealing and vandalizing my things. Homework assignments would go missing or be covered in soda or juice stains. My books had needed to be replaced twice, something my dad and I couldn't afford. Then, my mother's flute went missing from my locker.

I had brought it to school for a show and tell presentation. It was the most important thing I had left from my mother who had died six months before I started high school. When it disappeared, I was devastated and almost begged Emma for it back. But I had seen the look in her eyes before I asked. She had clearly wanted and expected me to plead with her to get it back and probably planned to mock me because of it. But that was one thing I wouldn't lower my pride to do.

So I had gone home and there, in privacy, allowed the tears of loss to flow. For lost memories and friends. And I retreated further into myself, trying to hide in dull colors and drab clothing.

Not that I was much to look at anyway. I wore glasses and was average in looks with my thin face, wide mouth, and large brown eyes. I was far too skinny and so lacking of a bosom that I could be mistaken for someone years younger. If I ever achieved a B cup I would consider it a personal triumph.

The one vanity I had was my long dark hair that hung in curls more than halfway down my back. It was the one thing that made me look like a girl. I remembered past-Emma telling me how pretty my hair was, back before, when we were friends.

My thoughts returned to the bullying. Yes, it got worse. A lot worse. Horrifically worse. But first, it had seemed to finally start to taper off. It was a couple of weeks before Christmas break of my sophomore year, almost a year and a half after it began. Sophia, Emma, and Madison had seemingly grown bored with me. Still insulting to my face, it seemed they could no longer be bothered to go out of their way to pursue me, as if hurting me wasn't interesting enough. I'd felt almost a feeling of victory as if I had outlasted them. Boy was I wrong. My thoughts drifted to the events of just over a week ago.

It happened on the Monday after school resumed following Christmas break. It was the end of the day and I wanted to get home. I was running late because I had to make up an assignment that I 'lost.' I was heading to my locker. Opening it, I was assaulted by the foulest smell of my entire life as I saw it filled with used, rotting tampons and dirty toilet paper.

My stomach heaved and I bent over to vomit into my locker. I was just started to come upright when someone grabbed my hair, slammed my head into the edge of the locker hard enough to make me see stars, then forced me inside, shutting it behind me.

Vision denied me by the darkness, all I could do was smell the filth that surrounded me. I frantically banged on the inside of the locker trying to get someone, anyone, to let me out. Frantically, I begged for help.

"Please! Let me out! Oh God, someone help me! Let me out! Please!"

The only response I got was laughter that I recognized from a hundred cruel pranks. Crying, I continued begging until what felt like hours passed. Finally all sounds outside ceased and I knew I was alone.

So much time passed and I was still there. At first I raged against my fate and cursed all of the teachers who wouldn't help me as well as the bullies themselves. I cursed an uncaring administration who preached zero tolerance, but required absolute proof before acting.

I could feel myself getting more and more thirsty. My stomach rumbled and ached as well. While intellectually, I knew that I could go weeks without food and days without water, I was anything but calm and logical as I stood there, cramped and hunched over in the dark, frightened and hurting.

Periodically, I would dry heave, which hurt so bad as only stomach acid would come up. It was the rotted smell. A smell that only grew worse. Of course the worse it grew, the sicker and more nauseated I felt.

I lost track of time, hurting as cramps racked my body from my hunched posture. At some point I started to give up, thinking that I would rather be dead than hurt this much. That's when I felt it.

.:Something impossibly vast and incomprehensible:.

.:Enormous, sinuous bodies hurtling through space, moving in an eerie ballet past worlds and suns:.

.:Millions, trillions, of seeds expanding forth in a cloud across dimensions and worlds:.

.:Destination:.

.:Trajectory:.

.:Agreement:.

It was too much to hold onto, and then it was gone, like something that I almost remembered; a dream from the night before.

But I could feel something else. A strange humming seemed to fill me. It sounded in my head until every one of my senses was drowned out by it. It, too, was enormously vast, but I could almost understand it. If only...

Then it seemed to vanish, or rather, diminished to almost seem so. And I could feel the locker around me, the six metal walls surrounding me. The lock that imprisoned me. And I reached out and...

With a click, it opened. I barely remembered stumbling out. After that, I lost track of things. Later I was told almost a whole day had passed and I'd stumbled out into heavy morning traffic and was almost hit by a car. I ended up stopping commuter traffic on a busy thoroughfare and causing dozens of collisions. An ambulance for me, among others, was called as I was completely hysterical and unable to answer questions. Then I apparently blacked out.

My next memory was three days later. I awoke to find my dad, Danny Hebert, there. He looked tired and drawn, as if he hadn't slept for days. Between sips of water and heartfelt hugs of thankfulness, he explained how worried he'd been when I didn't come home from school. How he'd reported me missing to the police, then gone hunting for me, talking to anyone who might know where I was.

My dad had talked to Emma and her father early on. Emma had told him she had no idea where I could be. That had gone on for the rest of the day before he got the call the next morning that I had been found in the middle of a huge accident and taken to the hospital.

Apparently, all hell had broken loose when the police had investigated the accident. There had been more than a dozen officers on the scene because of the damage done, the injuries suffered, and way traffic had backed up. The accident had caused thousands to be late for work. Investigating officers traced me back to the school by the trail of medical waste I left behind me and found my locker.

From there, it snowballed. A slow news day made this the big story of the evening and multiple news crews ended up doing stories on the incident. And follow up stories as the investigation continued. Then information of the true events of what happened leaked out. Apparently, students who couldn't be bothered to help me still wanted their fifteen minutes of fame as they talked to reporters on camera. And when they spilled to reporters their version of events, the police were quick to follow up.

As more and more students turned on my trio of tormentors, the police made them the center of the investigation. By the time I finally got out of the hospital on Friday, having to actually dodge reporters, two of my three tormentors had been arrested. The exception was Sophia Hess, who had disappeared from everyone's radar.

Dad told me that he had been approached by the school district with an offer to settle out of court for a small cash sum and my hospital bills paid. Not a fool, he had immediately consulted an attorney, who had squeezed them for a much larger sum. He had been able to at least in part because I had kept such detailed notes of the bullying, including any witnesses around, especially if those were teachers. It had created a pattern of behavior that made bullying acceptable, lawyer speak for 'you're going to pay through the nose.'

After getting out of the hospital Friday morning, I had time to think about what had happened to me. And I remembered the locker unlocking and opening. I knew, deep down inside of me, that I had made it happen. But I needed proof. So after my dad finally went back to work that afternoon, I went down into the basement looking for it.

I didn't know how I had done what I did, but I knew it had something to do with metal. At least I thought so. So I grabbed a couple of the most smallest things in there made of metal, a small half inch long screw and its accompanying washer. I set them on a worker bench, staring intently at them, and tried to move them.

Of course, nothing happened. I stared at them for most of an hour and tried to move them. Concentrating. Focusing so intently a headache stirred behind my eyes. I put so much effort into it and gained absolutely no sign of any kind of ability.

Blinking back tears of frustration, I kept trying. I knew I was special. I knew it! Sadly, the evidence did not support my assumptions.

Think, Taylor, I told myself. Put yourself back in the mindset of that day and do it again. Easier said than done. I had had nightmares almost every night because of the events of that day. Nightmares of being back in that darkness, horrific sensations bombarding my senses. It made me more than a little reluctant to revisit those memories.

Then I had an idea. I closed my eyes as I acted on it. Instead of focusing on the memories of the locker, I thought about the humming sound. I focused on how it had filled me. How it had overridden all of my other senses. How I had been able to...

I felt them. The metal screw and washer. And with just a little effort, I moved them, sending them skittering across the the worktable. Opening my eyes, I felt a sense of triumph. I was right. I was special. I had superhuman abilities. And I was going to be a superhero.

That brought me back to the present. It was Monday. It had been a week since the the locker and I was back in school. Fortunately, my tormentors were not. Emma Barnes and Madison Clements were on suspension while the police finished their investigation. I heard that they had both been charged, then released to their parents custody. A detective investigating the case said that the likely scenario was that they would get a year's probation and a couple hundred hours of community service for their part in my assault.

The best part was that neither would be returning to Winslow High. Emma's father had already enrolled her in a private Catholic school, Immaculata, while Madison's mom had pulled her out to home school her for at least the remainder of the year.

Of course, I had yet to mention Sophia Hess' fate. It turned out that Sophia was already on probation for something and had been sent off to juvenile detention. The officer had been vague about the exact circumstances, but had told my dad that much. Dad, in turn, had told me. So, all three of my tormentors routed, someone might wonder why I'm hiding in the bathroom.

It was the students. The ones who came up to me on a constant basis and told me that they had always been behind me. Had always supported me, but had been afraid to come forward. I found the hypocrisy stifling. And all the while, they stared at me, as if expecting me to flip out. As if I was a sideshow freak there for their entertainment.

Despite the thick skin I'd grown under the tutelage of Emma, Sophia, and Madison, I kept getting angrier and angrier by the minute as I was watched and talked about endlessly. I had a pressure in my head that was fueling a constant headache. It was all I could do not to go all Carrie on them all. Hence the hiding in the bathroom.

Finally, though, lunch was over. And I had to face things once more.

Walking toward Mr Rockwell's biology class, I could feel eyes on me. Still, I had almost made it to the door when Greg came up to talk to me.

"Hey, Taylor! How's it going?"

"Just fine, Greg." After a second, when he didn't go away, I asked, "Did you want something?"

It was just what I needed, I thought, Greg and his stream of consciousness speech. The boy in question scuffed his foot, then gave me a grin.

Greg Veder, one of my classmates, and the one least likely to understand any form of polite deflection, had been difficult to deal with of late. I wasn't sure when he'd gotten the idea that he liked me, but it was there, it was persistent, and it was driving me crazy.

In a lot of ways, Greg was a smart guy, but he simply had no filter between his mouth and his brain. He said whatever came into his mind, no matter how much trouble it caused him or others.

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah. I... uh... wanted to see if you wanted to hang out. After school."

I shook my head. "No, Greg, I don't. I'm busy this afternoon."

The surrounding eyes, still ever present, were now intently focused upon the two of us and our little social interaction. If Emma and the others had still been here, I would have heard about this for the next month. Of course, if my bullies were still around, it was unlikely that even Greg would have risked their wrath by talking to me. It was just another example of the hypocrisy displayed by my classmates.

I walked away from Greg, not waiting for him to reply. I didn't like hurting his feelings, but he made it incredibly hard not to when he was oblivious to more subtle hints. Refusing to feel bad, I went into class.

School was over. I was able to get home and continue my experiments on my new abilities for day four of my training.

Setting my stuff on the counter, I hurried downstairs to work on my ability. I needed to get done before Dad got home at six. The last thing I wanted was for him to find out that I was a cape, a Parahuman with a scary power to manipulate magnetism. Neither of us needed the strain that would cause in our relationship.

I had progressed since that first day of screws and washers. The last couple of days, I'd moved a few slightly bigger things like a screwdriver and pliers. Today, I was going to try moving around tools like a shovel, a saw, and a crowbar. Even the old cast iron weights that my dad hadn't used in years that were piled under a bench at the back of the basement.

I prepared myself, centering my mind, after first setting out all of the various items onto the worktable. There was a strange feel to doing all of this. It was less as if I were training a new skill and more as if I was relearning something that I had forgotten or allowed to fall into disuse, only to begin again. I shivered slightly at the lingering familiarity of it all.

Carefully, I extended my field of magnetism over to the metal of the shovel. It stirred, but didn't really move. Then I pushed myself just a little harder, then harder still.

With a lurch, the shovel moved exactly as I had wanted it to, lifting up and heading across the table. At the same time, there was a snap and crackle as a huge spark leaped from the shovel to the table.

What the hell was that?

Dropping the shovel with a clang, it bounced off the handsaw, then settled to the top of the table. Carefully, I poked it.

Nothing happened. Okay, I needed to try to figure this out. I repeated my action, lifting the shovel a second time, feeling the drag of the wood's additional weight. I saw again a fat spark leap outward from the metal of the shovel's blade, then another.

With some trepidation, I reached out to the sparks, feeling them touching me almost like a caress. But other than that, they had no real effect. Okay, that was cool. Briefly, I wondered if the same effect would apply to regular electricity or if it would still shock me?

I did the same thing with the handsaw and also with the crowbar. Each lifted the same way, snapping sounds of electrical discharge happening with each flex of my will directing my power.

As I prepared to move the next item, a twenty kilogram weight, I felt the now familiar crackling of electricity over my skin. With a snap and crackle, electricity arced from my hand to the weight. I moved the weight several feet away, then back, being a little more precise each time I did so. Yes, it was exactly as if I were relearning a lost skill. In some ways it scared me, while in others, it was reassuring, as there appeared less chance I'd make a mistake and hurt someone.

When I had first used my ability, I had thought it was some type of magnetic one. Or possible a ferric one, able to move or work with metals. I hadn't been completely wrong, but I had been a little incomplete in my diagnosis. It looked like it was turning out that my abilities were based around some form of electromagnetism, using magnetic fields to manipulate electricity and ferric metals.

It appeared that the larger the item I tried to move, the greater the discharge of electricity. Was it some form of static electricity, or something more? I resolved to read up on magnetism and its relationship with electricity over the next few days and see what I could discover.

Since I still felt good, I decided to push myself just a little harder today than I had been doing. I reached out toward a second weight and lifted it as well. Then I added a third. Oddly, as I added more weight, it seemed as if things got easier, rather than harder.

I tried several different combinations of the weights, until finally I was moving them all at once, arcs of electrical energy leaping about as it bled off the magnetic fields connecting me to them. It was surprisingly easy, although for the first time a sense of nonphysical fatigue set in. I allowed them settle back in place and moved to the next test of my abilities once I'd taken a few minute to recover.

The electricity that had come off the metallic items I'd been moving hadn't harmed me in any way. Instead, it had felt almost good as it caressed my skin. So if that were true, how about electricity straight from the source?

I walked over and grabbed an old lamp. I unscrewed the bulb, then plugged it in. I reached for the socket, then froze.

I couldn't do it. Come on, Taylor, I told myself. You can do this.

But I apparently couldn't. I was freezing up as if I were facing the open door of a plane from which I was supposed to parachute.

I told myself that this couldn't hurt me. But the truth is, I didn't know that. Despite my earlier resistance towards the sparks, touching raw current could still hurt me badly.

On the other hand, even if it froze me in place, my legs would likely collapse out from under me, unable to carry my weight. So I wouldn't be that hurt. Oh the lies we tell ourselves.

In the end, it took a leap of faith for me to stick my finger into the light socket. When I did, it was not what I expected at all. I could feel the electrical current flowing through my body, filling me in some strange and wonderful way as it somehow became waves of magnetism deep inside of me. At the same time, fatigue in my muscles cleared away. I felt wonderful.

What the hell was happening, I wondered? Was I acting akin to some kind of adapter, converting one form of energy to another? Or was this a lot more complex than I'd thought? Only with reluctance did I pull my finger out from the socket, the feeling of near euphoria vanishing.

I still felt stronger and with a sense of well being, all vestiges of fatigue still gone. Of course, I still had to eat, as a rumbling stomach reminded me to grab a snack as soon as I finished. So I couldn't just live on electricity and magnetism alone. Not that I'd want to, thinking about my favorite dish, lasagna.

Of course that also made me think about my recent craving for salt. Since getting out of the hospital, food had been tasting more and more bland. The last couple of nights, I'd been trying a bunch of things to make my food taste better. Right now, salt seemed the best solution by a rather large margin.

I was looking forward to eating more salt again with food tonight. Or rather food with salt, I thought, amused by my little Freudian slip.

Which reminded me that it was time to break off and start dinner. I hurried upstairs to get things ready by the time Dad got home.

~~~Railgun~~~

Danny walked into the house, tired from a long day. It had been a little frustrating, and he hadn't been able to bring in any contracts for work. Plus the damn Merchants were still being a pain in the butt, junkies and addicts trying to come into the office to nominally use the restroom, but once there, making themselves a nuisance.

He kicked his shoes off after he walked in. Almost immediately, he saw Taylor busily working on dinner. Then he did a double-take, an involuntary smile creasing his lips.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Hey, Dad. How was work?"

"Good. How was your day?"

Taylor smiled as she started putting food on two plates. "It was pretty boring actually. Which is good as boring means I didn't have to worry about bullying."

Danny felt his smile grow. "Anything unusual happen?"

Puzzled, she said, "No. Why?"

Danny started chuckling, then those chuckles turned into full-fledged laughter. As the puzzled look on his daughter's face deepened, he just pointed. After a second, vague comprehension came across her face. Taylor reached up and touched her hair, which was standing out from her head in a hairstyle that was almost reminiscent of an afro. Suddenly, there was a look of complete horror on her face as she ran out of the room, heading upstairs.

Danny shook his head, still chuckling. "Kids."

~~~Railgun~~~

Since the horror of the giant afro, I had been a lot more careful when I touched electricity. It turned out that I could remove the charge from my body that caused my hair to stand out from my head, I just had to concentrate. I could also seemingly turn electricity to magnetism, and magnetism back to electricity. Or rather, use magnetism to to excite electron flow, creating electricity, or taking electricity and creating a magnetic field with it. The ability to manipulate the relationship between magnetism and electron flow seemed an utterly natural one to me.

Today was day six of my training and I had a couple of new ideas for things to try. So after I was done stretching my abilities by moving around metal items, I pulled out a piece of old gear that Dad kept around, a voltmeter.

Aiming at the voltmeter, which sat upon a heavy wooden worktable, I hit it with a blast of electricity, using my magnetism to force electron flow. I used an ever increasing series of blasts, checking the readings between each. I appeared to be able to easily reach the maximum reading of the meter. Unfortunately, it maxed out at only forty kilovolts. I suspected that I could hit a number several times that. Much more if I were fed additional current or let my magnetic fields build up for a while.

Being a living taser was a good ability to have for a superhero. Not only a great nonlethal ability, but it would take people down quickly, and in great numbers. And I didn't even have to touch them to do so as the electricity arced out the way I wanted, magnetic fields directing its flow.

I took a half hour to make sure that I had a pretty good idea of how powerful my blasts actually were versus how much voltage I was actually producing. No point in getting in trouble by hitting normal people too hard.

Moving on once I'd rested a bit, I tried the next idea I had. I'd been reading up a lot on things to do with electricity and magnetism. One of the things I'd read about was electrostatic cling. It might be able to allow me to stick to a surface, giving me the ability to climb and making me more effective at patrol.

Altering my charge, just as I had with my hair a few days ago, I placed my hands on the wall and tried to lift myself off the ground. I had to play with the sense of charge for a bit, but I finally managed to make my hands stick to the wall. Then, I had to practice sticking and releasing.

Finally, though, I was ready to try. Tentatively, I put one hand on the wall and managed to stick. Then I did the same thing with my other hand. I then tried to pull myself up, barely managing to move myself. I hung there for a little while, but after just a few minutes had to let go as actual physical fatigue got to me. My muscles simply weren't strong enough to hold my body up on the wall.

I tried a few more things with the static ability, then finally had to give up. I collapsed onto the dirty concrete floor, sweat rolling off of me as I thought about what I'd learned. Of course my fatigue was as much because of the use of my power as it was physical.

If I was careful, I could squat, my back against a wall, bracing with my feet. I could hold that one a little longer before the burning in my quadriceps got to me. I would even be able climb a shorter wall eventually, once I wasn't running out of strength. It wasn't like rock climbing exactly, sticking to a wall being a bit more fatiguing with no actual hand holds present while I worked on changing the electrical charges on different parts of my body.

That lack of shape was one of the reasons I had started running every morning as well as going through a series of calisthenics. I hoped in a couple of months I would be in good enough shape to be able to climb a mid-size building. At least until I figured out the Holy Grail of abilities also known as flight.

It was another of my new ideas and damn if I didn't want to be able to do it more than I could say.

I focused my ability upon myself, and tried to move my body into the air. Electricity crackled over my form, and for just a moment, I thought I felt like I was lighter. But, sadly, when I jumped as high from the floor as I could, I did not actually get any higher than I had the day before.

Okay, so that didn't seem to work. Now to try the next idea on my list. I changed the charge, not just on my hair, but on my entire body, to one that 'felt' identical to the one on the floor. Then I tried to leap off the ground. Again, I thought I felt lighter, but when I actually checked the mark on the wall, it turned out that I wasn't.

Sighing, I made a note in my journal. No significant progress, but then again, I'd only been testing and practicing for six days.

Taking a deep breath, I moved on. What I was about to do now was something that I had only theorized should be possible, but I wanted to try it today.

I had been reading up on electromagnetism, and had read an entire section on weapons that were based upon the principle. The one that had immediately caught my attention was a railgun. It used magnets to accelerate a metallic round made from a ferrous material to accelerate it to a high enough speed that it was able to destroy things through kinetic force.

Now, picturing it in my mind, it seemed almost too easy to do so. Again, it was another of those half forgotten skills that I seemed to just know. I picked up a tiny washer from the worktable. It was only a thin quarter inch washer with barely any mass, but I dared not use anything larger for a first attempt. Not because I didn't think I could move a larger item, but because I was scared of the effect it might have.

I supercharged my ability, onto and out from my right hand, as I visualized lightning lashed rails extending into the distance, just visible in some kind of other sight. Finally, I breathed out, flipping the tiny washer into the air just for the visual effect, although I might have to rethink that for actual combat, as dropping it would be embarrassing and potentially dangerous. I ruefully shook my head as I realized unless I really screwed up by the numbers, it would be almost impossible to drop something made of metal as I controlled magnetism.

Focusing back on my current task, I released the energy just as the washer touched back down. The sense of acceleration was immediate and intense. It was immediately followed by a loud crash that completely overshadowed the snapping sound of electricity as the washer blew a hole in the concrete wall at the back of the basement.

I stared at the wall, stunned, as little pieces of surprisingly hot concrete rained down around me. Stunned, I walked up and almost touched the concrete surrounding the hole, but drew my hand back instantly because of the heat. Okay, I both had and hadn't expected something like this to happen. Regardless, there was going to be no more training on that particular skill at home. I think if I had used a larger item, like a medium sized nut or bolt, it would have blown a hole in the wall so big that shrapnel from it might have hurt me badly. Worse, I hadn't even charged up my imaginary energy rails up nearly as much as I thought I was capable of.

I'd need another place to train was the thought that immediately popped into my mind. Considering possible solutions, one that stood out was the Boat Graveyard that occupied the north end of the bay. It was isolated enough that any sound or sight would probably go unnoticed. That way, I could truly test my 'railgun' ability. Especially apt as I was now considering that for my hero name. Or maybe Magneto.

Nah. The latter sounded far too pretentious, while Railgun had a great ring to it, although it might be a bit too revealing of my power's source. I just needed to get to the Boat Graveyard to test its full potential.

Plus, if I could get to the Boat Graveyard, I could scavenge up some more scrap steel. It might be useful, it might not. I'd know a little more after today.

Looking over the work table, I immediately saw what I needed. It was a small, flat piece of sheet steel, likely cut off of some larger piece, its edges sharp and jagged. I'd noticed it the other day when I was looking for things to move with my power.

I'd grabbed it, then promptly cut my finger on the edge. I was balancing the piece on my other hand while sucking blood from my 'injury', my power just prickling my skin. That was when I realized that I wasn't actually touching the metal sheet. Instead, it was lying just above my skin, held there by my power.

I wanted to do the same thing today. I had an idea that I might be able to use it as a last ditch defense to keep metallic objects from injuring me. Whether it would work or not was still up in the air.

This time I was more careful in picking it up, and didn't cut myself. Using my power, I felt it leave my hand, floating just above it. I wasn't attempting to move it, rather, it was repelled from me by magnetism or charge alone somehow. Oddly, I could feel how the distance between it and me changed depending upon the contour of my hand.

I concentrated more power on the plate, then more still. Each push pressed it a little closer to my skin, while making it that much harder to get even closer still. It was actually kind of amusing, but not that useful as I didn't see how I could do much if, say, my hands were stuck flat.

I casually tired to bend my fingers, then stopped, utterly shocked. Because the metal plate, so closely pressed to my skin had bent with my fingers. Then I opened them back and and immediately noticed that the plate was no longer smooth. Instead, it resembled a topographical map of my hand, down to the tiniest pore and wrinkle.

That was just weird. I couldn't really imagine a use for this ability. But that didn't mean there wasn't one. So I kept playing with it, over and over again. After a while, though, the metal seemed as if it was getting a lot harder to work.

Suddenly, I was conscious of sweat dripping down my face and a sense of fatigue more intense than when I'd worked on moving all of those metal items. Relaxing my power, I let the plate fall into my hand. I immediately dropped it as it was a bit hotter than felt comfortable to the touch.

I ran upstairs and grabbed a cold bottle of water. Then I went back down and stood considering the piece of metal that was lying on the work table. What had I done? It didn't appear any different, but I knew there was some kind of change, based upon how the metal felt to my magnetism. Not more or less magnetic, but rather more... durable?

Had I made it stronger? I looked around for a hammer, finally finding one in the big toolbox on the bottom shelf of the work table. I carefully raised it, then brought it down as hard as I could onto the metal image of my hand.

It skidded slightly, while sparks flew, but upon inspection, appeared undamaged. Rolling my eyes in exasperation at my idiocy, I used my power to raise the hammer, then bring it down probably at least ten times as hard. The noise was loud enough to make me wince, but the plate itself was undamaged.

Okay, this could be useful. I wasn't sure exactly how yet, but it almost had to be. Metal that was much, much tougher than any currently available? How could that not be useful?

Suddenly, I had an idea. I used my power to pick up the metal plate, bringing close to my face. Then I set my power to work upon it. It took literally everything I had left in the tank to mold it into a close approximation of my face, while also creating eye, mouth, and nose holes on it. The metal fiercely resisted being reshaped, and felt like it became even more durable under the lash of my power.

In the end, as sweat streamed down my face, I had a mask that covered my face, closely approximating the shape, but with the features just a little... blurred? Or reshaped might be a better way to describe it.

I ran upstairs again to the downstairs bath off of the kitchen. Looking into the mirror there, I couldn't help but grin at what I saw. I was now wearing a mask that showed the visage of a girl, but with higher cheekbones, looking a great deal more idealized than the real me. Maybe I could consider it me 2.0?

I'd contoured the inside of the mask to match my face for the most part, but the outside I'd reshaped slightly into the image in the mirror. Could I do that for more armor? If I could, how cool would it be to show up to cape fights wearing a bad ass costume of my own manufacture?

Though would I be able to lift it if I carried out my tentative plan? I almost smacked myself as I realized that I was thinking like someone who needed muscles to move metal. My power could do the work. Hell, if I had a suit of armor that surrounded me I might even be able to fly. Screw that. I would be able to fly!

I felt a hell of a lot more positive about things when I went back downstairs to the basement to clean up. Plus, I needed to make sure that hole in the wall was covered up. Dad would kill me if he saw it, not to mention it would out me as a Parahuman. Whistling, I went to work.

~~~Railgun~~~

I heard the front door open as my dad came in, his tall skinny shape briefly outlined in the light. He always went in that way as if ignoring that broken step out front would just make it go away. Sometimes, I had the impression that he thought that if he just fixed it, something else around the house would break. Calling out, "Hey, Dad" I went back to chopping lettuce for the salad I was making.

He smiled at me as he walked in, taking in the smells of pizza and garlic bread. "Hey, kiddo. What's all this?"

I could feel my chest hurt ever so slightly at the happy look in his eyes as he took in the normalcy of the scene in front of him. Just his ordinary teenage daughter making dinner for her hardworking father with not a care in the world. I wanted to confess to being a liar, but instead, I said in a bright tone, "It's dinner. Pizza and garlic bread from Manny's Pizzeria and a salad by yours truly to round things off. I figured we could use some of that settlement money to order out."

Dad walked up and kissed me on the top of my head, then looked over what I had laid out. "Looks great, Taylor. Let me get washed up and I'll be down by the time you finish with that salad."

I smiled, knowing from his answering one that it wasn't as false as it felt. "Sound great. Then you can tell me all about your day fighting for the rights of the little man."

For a second, his smile faltered, then it grew even firmer. "I'll do just that. See you in a bit."

That's my dad, still fighting the good fight as a representative of the local dockyard workers association. I was proud of him for never giving up even when it appeared that things were futile. That the port would never reopen. But Dad persevered because he believed that tomorrow would be a better day.

I stared at a tomato as I chopped it, red leaking out. It looked far too much like blood. Staring at the chunks of red, I couldn't really see a future, despite my earlier positivity. Unless tomorrow carried a crimson sheen to it. Shivering slightly, I dismissed the dark thoughts.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 2*: Arc 1: Loading—102

Arc 1: Loading—1.02

AN: I have an entire list of skills that Taylor will attain with her abilities over the course of exploring and training. If anyone has any ideas that fit within the framework of electromagnetism, feel free to leave it in a review or PM. Also, if you see any typos, you won't hurt my feelings by pointing them out. Let me know and I'll fix them. Thanks.

~~~Railgun~~~

The next day at school found me eating my lunch once more in the girl's bathroom, perched on the back of a commode. I'd managed to avoid Greg so far today, despite being in Mr Gladly's class with him, and if I could just get through the next three hours, I was home free.

My progress with my power was going well. Magnetism seemed easier and easier every day to manipulate and I couldn't help but feel special because of the things I could do. I could almost hear my mom telling me to be careful of hubris, but was being proud of yourself for what you accomplished through your hard work wrong?

I didn't really know, but didn't think so. Of course, maybe I would have an answer if I could get up the courage to actually go eat lunch in the cafeteria instead of here. I gritted my teeth at my own timidity, not seeing how feeling this way was going to help me become a hero.

I took a bite of my sandwich as I stared off into space. Why the hell had I suddenly become so much of a recluse? Even now, I could almost feel the crowds pressing in on me. It was an irksome feeling, like ants crawling all over my skin, brushing the tiny hairs there and making me want to rub myself, flinging them away.

In front of me I imagined a vast crowd. It actually made me vaguely nauseous, not something conducive to eating lunch. I stuffed the half eaten sandwich back into its bag and decided I was done. Maybe if I thought about something else?

But my thoughts seemed determined to dwell upon people and crowds and my claustrophobic feeling intensified. Dammit, why did I feel this way? There weren't even any people here in the bathroom with me, having chosen the one furthest from the cafeteria to hide in. Glumly, I wondered if my power was driving me crazy.

I was concentrating on one spot in front of me, as if to somehow discern the mysteries of the universe contained therein, when it happened. It being a flash as I suddenly saw bright glowing shapes all around me.

I nearly fell off the toilet tank and had to use the handicap rail to stabilize myself. What the fuck was happening?

All around me blazed brightly glowing objects in all shapes and sizes. Some where brighter, while some were almost dim. Some were long and thin, while others were almost square. Some emitted a consistent, continuous glow, while others flared and pulsed and seemed to move from place to place.

I tried closing my eyes to escape the barrage of information into my brain, but I could still see them, even through my closed eyes. Okay, this was bad. I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything if all I saw all the time were glowing shapes.

In an effort to regain control, I focused my attention on one of the shapes. I immediately felt better, a lot less overwhelmed by the deluge. The shape I was focused upon was kind of rectangular, but weirdly blurred, as if I was looking at a 3D movie without the supplied glasses.

That was when I realized that I was seeing the shape of something real. Something that actually existed in the real world. But why was I seeing it this way? And what the hell were all of those other things?

It took me a little longer, but by the end of lunch, I'd figured out that the long thin shapes were power lines. Also, the first shape I had seen was almost certainly the copier in the assistant principal's office upstairs. The shape was right and it was just down the hallway from the bathroom I was in.

The moving shapes that never maintained a consistent glow turned out to be people. A few minutes ago, someone had come into the bathroom I was in and stood in front of the mirror, probably fixing their make up. I'd seen their glowing shape moving in much the same way as I imagined a girl would putting on make up. It was a fairly weird sight.

Now I just had to figure out a way to turn it off. Closing my eyes, I focused upon being calm and peaceful and relaxed. A few seconds later, as if a switch had been turned off, the glows disappeared and I was once again alone in here. Blinking a few times, I got ready to go back to class.

I had to have been seeing electricity, but why then was I able to see people? Dimly, I remembered reading something about bio-electricity. Was that something that people had in them, like electric eels, but less? I took out my journal and added it to my list of the one hundred and more things that I needed to research.

I just didn't seem to have time to get done all of the things I wanted to. I was looking forward to the weekend when I would have most of two full days to work on figuring out things about my power as well as exercising my railgun ability in a different setting.

Later that evening, I had a bit of an epiphany. It hadn't been hard to figure out that the moving, glowing, flickering shapes that came in and out of focus were people. People, whose movements, health, and emotional states all affected how they appeared to my Othersight. It wasn't hard from there to start to understand just why it was so stressful to my mind to have so many people around me.

As they went about living life, the continual changes in their glows had almost a strobing effect, putting pressure on my senses and giving me a residual headache, something which the steadier glows of electric current did not. Heck, if I had been epileptic, the strobing effect would have probably given me a seizure.

Maybe I could do something about it now that I knew what the problem was. Or maybe not. I'd find out over the next few days.

~~~Railgun~~~

Thank God it was Friday, I thought, as I waited for the bus to go down to the library before going home. I wanted to download stuff about armor so when I went out to the Boat Graveyard tomorrow, I could at least get started.

Today hadn't been all that bad really. I still hadn't eaten in the cafeteria yet, but maybe I'd give it a shot by next week. But the pressure I'd been feeling had been reduced, maybe if for no other reason than I now knew what was causing it.

My powers were stranger than ever, but at least I was getting a handle on them. I could mold and move metal, see and generate electricity, as well as see bio-electricity, all using my magnetic fields.

Glancing over at the row of cars that were parked not far from the bus stop, I wondered if my power could move one of those? I looked around, but I didn't see anyone nearby, the closest being all the way over by the entrance to the school.

I casually strolled over to the nearest car and nonchalantly touched it with my hand. Definitely metal. If I was careful, I could probably make it move without generating a visible discharge of electricity, so long as I remained in contact with it.

Bringing up a strong magnetic field, I was just about to see if I could actually lift the car, when I felt something inside it... short out was the only way I could describe it. There was a slight popping sound, which I realized was the bulbs on the headlights exploding behind their plastic lenses.

I immediately stepped back, then stepped back forward and rubbed my denim-clad bottom against the place I'd touched. I wasn't sure exactly what I'd done, but I had a deep suspicion that I had just completely destroyed the car's electrical systems. If I had, there was no point in leaving evidence of a crime. Wincing slightly, I hoped whoever owned the car had insurance.

~~~Railgun~~~

I groaned, pulled out of sleep by the sound of my alarm. Was it already 6:00 am? I glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand, but couldn't read the numbers there. I fumbled for my glasses, then promptly dropped them beside the bed. Stretching my arm out, I reached out for them, but all I manage to do was knock them further under the bed.

Dammit! I squinted at the alarm clock, wanting desperately to see the time, when suddenly, I was able to read the numbers there as clear as day. Utterly shocked, I glanced around the room, just as mysteriously in focus as the clock had been. Then it blurred again.

I had no idea what was going on. Tiredly, I rolled out of my warm bed and crouched down on the cold floorboards next to it. A moment's search had my glasses in hand and I saw the time again. 6:03 am now.

Had I hallucinated what I'd seen earlier? Could my power do that to me? I wasn't sure one way or another. But I planned to be careful.

It was finally Saturday, day nine of my training. I had set the alarm for 6:00 am to give me plenty of time to go on a run and do calisthenics before heading off to the Boat Graveyard to train and experiment. Ten minutes later found me dressed and tying the laces of my shoes before heading out the door.

I was hoping to make it at least a mile before I had to stop and walk for a bit. Then I'd turn around and head home, trying to do the same. As I ran, I considered what I'd learned about my ability so far.

I'd been getting better and better at moving metal objects, both in the sheer number I could handle, as well as the complexity of the movements I could direct them along. I wasn't sure if it was normal to be able to track over a hundred items, following the path of each one, knowing exactly where it was at all times, while at the same time being able to still think about other things.

I knew the term for it, of course. Multi-tasking, the ability to do more than one thing at a time. It was something that shouldn't be as easy to do as it appeared to be for me, but then again, it might just be some aspect of my powers.

Besides multi-tasking, I could also mold metal, which I had been practicing every day since I'd discovered it. I'd had to retire messing around with my mask as it had finally gotten too damn hard to work with. Instead, I was using a couple of the metal plates from the weight set, figuring Dad would never miss them. Or so I hoped.

I reached the halfway point of my run, wheezing and exhausted and had to walk for a while. The city around me was still mostly quiet, likely because this was a Saturday, and the air tasted fresh and clean, as well as vaguely of salt.

Which reminded me. I grabbed a small bottle out of the pocket of my sweat pants. Taking out four medium-sized tablets from its contents, I popped them into my mouth. Oh God, that was good.

The tablets were salt pills, each holding a bit more than twice what was in one of those packets you get in a fast food restaurant. I wasn't sure why, but I'd been craving salt like crazy lately. It had to be related to my power, but I couldn't see how magnetism and an addiction to sodium chloride coincided.

Regardless, I loved salt now. I was up to about fifteen of these tablets a day, as well as upping the amount on my food to sometimes ridiculous levels. I figure it was just part and parcel of the weirdness and mystery of being a Parahuman.

Once I felt human again, I jogged back home. I actually managed to make it the entire way without stopping to walk, something I considered a personal triumph. Then it was time to do my calisthenics.

Nothing too complicated. Just some jumping jacks, sit ups, push ups, side lunges, and knee bends. I still couldn't do real push ups, having to do girlie ones from my knees instead, but I was up to twenty of them at least. I was hoping that it would get easier as time went by, but I was probably weeks away from being able to do even one real one.

Not that I let that get me down. Because today was the day that I was moving my stuff out of the basement and into the Boat Graveyard.

I was finally going to get a chance to test my railgun ability with something heavier than a tenth of a gram metal washer. Excited at the thought, I ran upstairs and stripped off my sweaty clothing. After showering, I got dressed and left the house with my backpack full of odds and ends of the things I'd worked with. I caught the bus and rode it out to the far end of the docks, as close as possible to the derelict ships, then walked the rest of the way.

Once there, I waited until I reached the first ship then closed my eyes and reached out with my 'other' senses. The world fell away into a blur of glowing shapes, all of them things that contained some form of electricity. There were no power sources closer than two hundred yards, and that one was a buried power line. So there should be no cameras to worry about.

Reaching out again, I focused even more intently as I tried to detect the bio-electric fields of people. Those were a bit harder to locate, as they weren't as bright as regular electricity, especially dim after a flare. There weren't any in my range, which I had tentatively figured out to be approximately four hundred yards based upon the area around my high school where I had been seeing them the last two days.

No one being within my range made it relatively safe to exercise my abilities. Or so I hoped. Breathing a sigh of relief, I thought about a couple of things I'd figured out since first discovering this newest method of harnessing my power.

It had definitely turned out to be people viewed by my Othersight, which had caused me problems. After taking the last couple of days to practice, I was getting the sensation under control, at least enough so as to not to want to flee from a crowd. I still wasn't comfortable at school, but maybe I wouldn't hide in the girl's bathroom anymore at lunch.

Of course, I had felt weirded out when I had tested it on myself, raising a hand in front of my closed eyes. Instead of another ghostly shape, instead I saw one that fairly blinded me with the light it was emitting. After a moment, though, I decided it went a long way to explaining just what I had become, an electromagnetic dynamo or something similar. It was just another piece of the puzzle that was me.

With one final closed eye look around, I began to scout around for a way aboard one of the ships. It took a little time to find a safe way to get aboard, but I eventually found a ladder on a ship about six down that led up onto its main deck. Staring out over the Boat Graveyard, I noticed that the next ship over had a gaping hole near its waterline, which would allow someone inside to look out. I also saw that the ship I was on was in contact with that other ship up by the front. The bow, I corrected myself.

I walked toward the bow, and surveyed the situation. It was not quite touching, but the gap was less than eighteen inches. That shouldn't be a problem.

I leaped carefully across onto the next ship and made my way inside, trying to find the hold with the hole in the side. I was eventually able to get down to that level, making my way through what seemed like a labyrinth of ladders and passageways. Once there, however, I found the perfect testing ground for myself. Or rather testing pool.

Salt water from the bay filled the area between the two ships with the other ship about a hundred feet away at this point, as they weren't exactly floating parallel to one another. I set my bag down and removed from it several different weights of flat metal circles that I had stamped out using my ability. I had weighed each one, then labeled it using a magic marker. I was going to use two point five, five, seven point five, and ten gram circles for today's test.

But first, I decided to mask up. I wanted to get used to wearing one. I took the one I'd made days earlier from my backpack. I placed upon my face, allowing my power to support all of its weight. Without the effects of my power, the mask was fairly heavy. It had also changed fairly a bit since I had first made it, now a bit bigger, so that it covered all of my exposed features forward of my ears.

I had added to the original metal piece using a bit off of the cast iron weights, essentially molding smaller ones into the larger until I was able to cover my face. I had also worked on the style. The mostly anatomically correct features, with a nose, eyebrows, cheekbones, a mouth, and a chin, were still there. What I had done was to work on it using a mirror, which let me redo it so that it looked more artistic.

Not necessarily human, though. The mask now featured sharper planes than a person possessed, with a squared off nose, high, sharp cheeks, and a strong, square chin. The mouth of the mask didn't frown, but neither did it smile, projecting a stern guise. Even the brows I'd put on added to the strength of the features, being thin, sharp upside-down check marks above the eye slits. The only concession to femininity I'd given the mask was to imbue the features with a certain delicacy, that fortunately didn't seem to steal any of the strength I was trying to project.

The inside was molded to exactly follow the contours of my face, even if the outside looked like an idealized face of strength, allowing my power to float it a fraction of an inch off my skin. All in all, I was fairly satisfied with how my mask had turned out.

Which turned out to be a good thing as the iron and steel it was made from had become so incredibly difficult to work with the more I 'tempered' the metal with my power. As bad as it had been that first day, it had only gotten worse. I'd tried to damage it, but hadn't found anything so far that would, although maybe my railgun might, though I'd be loath to attempt it.

I wasn't completely sure why this was happening to the metal I worked and had done research in the library after school on super-strong forms of iron. So far, I had found a few things it could be, but nothing that truly resembled it. There were things like iron whiskers; pure, single-crystal forms of iron, that possessed tensile strength and hardness so far above ordinary iron and steel that it was considered a super material. I didn't know if that was what I had created or something even more exotic.

What I did know was that even though the thinner areas were less than a quarter inch thick, no amount of hitting it with the heavier sledge hammer I'd found, wielded by myself, physically or electromagnetically, so much as scuffed it. I had pounded on it until the hammer itself had deformed without so much as a mark showing on the mask. My ears on the other hand...

Now I just had to figure out how to make more armor, maybe along the lines of a medieval knight, until I had a full set. I also wanted to color it, as the metal was a dull gray in color as is. I did have an idea or two along those lines. First, though, I needed to begin today's test of my powers.

This was the one I had most been looking forward to. Testing my railgun. The big pool in between the two ships was the perfect place, as any sounds would be muffled by the ships themselves, making it virtually impossible to locate the source, assuming someone heard it in the first place.

Standing at the edge of the gaping hole and staring out over the water, I readied myself. I pictured the rails I'd need, then allowed myself to fall into a pool of electromagnetism.

I flipped the first, and lightest, metal circle into the air. I charged up, invisible rails disappearing from even my vision after a few feet, and then, as it landed on my hand, blasted it into the water. The resulting explosion from the collision blew a huge column of water in the air. I stared, stunned. That had been basically the weight of a dime. Clearly, I'd accelerated it to, or even past, hypersonic velocities. And I still hadn't used my full power. I could feel so much more potential there, like a stream of electrons aching to arc from positive to negative. As I contemplated the feeling, the beginnings of a tentative grin stretched my lips. Railgun, indeed.

I went ahead and used the remaining metal weights, with the last one causing a spout of water that dwarfed the first. Almost against my better judgment, I went ahead and used another two point five gram against the hull of the ship opposite me. As loud as the others had been hitting the water, the noise this one produced was as if an enormous hammer had struck the ship opposite, the clanging sound echoing across the space.

Meanwhile, I stared at the hole several inches across in the hull opposite, edges glowing white hot from the energy released. Holy shit, that was actually pretty terrifying.

Heart pounding, I decided that was enough of testing of my most dangerous ability. I didn't want to draw the Protectorate or PRT down on myself, picturing Armsmaster in his blue and silver armor walking through the hatch behind me and commanding me to cease. Another time I would work on measuring accuracy against floating aluminum cans as well as any fatigue factors that might build up. For now, I was going to move onto training my next skill once I'd given it a few minutes.

I stepped to a flat section of wall, or since I was on a ship, the bulkhead. I was going to work on my electrostatic skill now. Adjusting my body's charge, I jumped as high as I could against a metal bulkhead. I was shocked to death to feel how easily I was able to cling to it. I was only using a fraction of the energy and concentration I'd needed before when adjusting my charge. I climbed until burning muscles drove me to start back down, staring up at the wall I'd just climbed. Why had that been so much easier here than at home?

I wanted to slap my forehead in consternation. God, I felt like an idiot. Of course it was easier. The bulkhead was steel, a ferrous metal. Clearly, I was able to cling to a wall with that much metal present much easier. Even better, it had been almost like climbing a ladder, as the hand holds were so much more secure.

As opposed to a house where I had to go so much slower with all of my weight hanging from the contact points of my hands and knees as I carefully put out my hand or leg for the next point of contact, adjusting the charge at that point. It was a good thing to know. I wondered how it would feel to climb bigger buildings? Maybe not so bad if they had steel beams and lots of rebar used in their construction. I dismissed the thought as it was time to move on.

Then something else occurred to me. I tentatively tried climbing again until the burning in my muscle drove me back to the ground. Okay, that had to be the best workout I'd had since starting. Maybe I should do this instead of calisthenics? Or maybe in additional to calisthenics. I'd have to think about it a bit more as I didn't have unlimited time to work out, needing to get the most bang for my buck as possible.

I trained my ability to lift metal next, once my inner fatigue had subsided, and was extremely satisfied as I moved what I tentatively estimated to be at least a thousand pounds of scrap iron and steel. Which was far better than the disaster from yesterday. I now knew what I'd done to the car which I'd tried to move while waiting around for the bus after school. I'd definitely destroyed the electrical system, from the lights to the circuits to the wiring. The latter I had literally felt disintegrating. After researching it in the library, I now knew what I'd done was the equivalent to an EMP.

Cars might be very resistant to electrical shocks because of their rubber tires, but those didn't seem to work well against my own electromagnetic powers. It made me wonder what would happen if I really tried to produce a large EMP. Could I become a city-killer like Shatterbird of the Slaughterhouse Nine? It was yet another reminder of just how dangerous powers could be if you weren't careful. I resolved to not ever use that ability again no matter the reason.

Which brought me back to the present. One of the problems I was currently dealing with was that there was a visible discharge whenever I used my power to move metal beyond a very small weight. Worse, the coronal discharge was loud and ridiculously bright even in the daytime, consisting of streams of waste electrons randomly arcing away from whatever I was doing. .

While in combat, I was never going to be one of those fly-under-the-radar heroes. I lit the world up around me with surges of highly visible electrical blasts. Only if something was touching my skin did the electrical effects cease to be visible when I manipulated it with my magnetism. And even then, if I poured out enough energy, coronal discharges began to appear.

Trying to minimize the light show, I worked on moving that heavy weight of metal over and over, until I was too tired and sweaty to do it anymore. After I popped a handful of salt tablets to suck on, I worked on picking up as many smaller pieces of metal as I could, moving them in complex and intricate patterns that I hoped would help protect me, until fatigue and a burgeoning headache forced me to cease.

Wishing I had remembered to bring a towel to wipe the sweat out of my eyes, I tried something that I'd read about at the library on Friday. Concentrating, I tried to push the heat away from my body. After a couple of minutes, I thought I felt a bit cooler. Maybe.

Deciding that was enough for now, I focused my ability on myself again and cut loose, pouring energy into trying to lift off the ground. Okay, I had not imagined that. I felt lighter. Staying focused, I jumped into the air as hard as I could and to my surprise, rose about six inches higher than usual before falling back to earth. Even the fall felt slower than normal, though that might have been my imagination.

I repeated the action using a change to my charge identical of that of the ship's deck, trying to repel myself, but that had far less effect. It looked like I was going to have to cross that one off of my list of possible ways to fly. But I still had hopes for the first.

Releasing my power, I sucked in huge lungfuls of air as sweat poured off my face and soaked my clothes. Great, I thought. Now I was going to have to ride the bus back all sweaty and stinky. Shaking off the dismay, I focused on the positive.

I had lightened myself significantly. There was not a doubt in my mind that I would be able to fly when I finished some of my armor if not before. I had even started taking iron supplements to increase the amount of the element present in my body, although I was being careful not to poison myself by overdosing. Although, with my control over iron through my electromagnetism, I was wondering if that was even possible. I also wondered if any of this had anything to do with my cravings for salt.

I tentatively tried to access the same power that had briefly allowed me to see the alarm clock that morning, but ended up frustrated as it didn't work at all. I finally gave up, deciding to try again tomorrow when I was fresher.

Once I'd recovered enough, I finished off my test slash workout by using my power to project electrical energy, pulling from the deep well of magnetic force inside of me, and using it create a charge and thus electron flow. I projected the streamers of blazing electricity out into space. For this, I was using the cargo hold of the ship, a space more than four hundred feet long. Setting down my back pack, I settled in for an extended session of blasting.

Taking a deep breath, I extended my hand and poured out electricity in the form of coruscating streamers of energy. Similar to what I had produced for the voltmeter, they were considerably more powerful. They also fell quite a bit short of the far end of the hold.

I next tried guiding them with my magnetism, and this time, the bolts crossed between a third and a half of the distance involved. I smiled as I was actually extremely happy with the resulting tightening of the streamer's spread as well as the extension in distance. That was way more range that I had imagined I would have.

I tried testing my accuracy over the same distance and immediately lost the smile as I saw what I had suspected would happen. The electrical blasts tended to spread out over longer distances becoming almost area effect in nature, only nominally held in check by the magnetic fields that spawned them. So there wouldn't be any long distance tasering of a villain who was holding someone hostage. Not unless I wanted to taser them both. And a half dozen of their friends. Which might not be such a bad thing, although I didn't know how the hero community would view such a tactic. Probably not favorably, I concluded glumly.

Still, it would let me take down large gangs of normal people at a respectable distance. Gangs being the operative word here. With the ABB, the Merchants, and Empire 88 all operating here in Brockton Bay, their Parahumans supported by large numbers of non-powered members, taking out groups of gang members would be important. I briefly considered each of the gangs that I had been learning about during my research sessions after school.

ABB, or the Azn Bad Boys, was an all Asian gang led by a particularly nasty cape named Lung, who had the singularly scary ability to continually grow stronger the longer the fight went. He had been known to take down entire Protectorate teams by himself. I know he had at least one other cape in his group, Oni Lee, a teleporter who left short-lived copies of himself behind that disappeared into a burst of ash after a certain amount of time. All in all, a nasty duo, although Lung, alone, was like having an entire team of capes around.

Then there were the Merchants, a gang of bums, addicts, drunks, and other dregs of Brockton Bay society. They were the most numerous gang, but also the weakest. They were led by Skidmark, a cape with the power to create a layer of effect on flat surfaces that create a push towards one direction and corresponding resistance towards the other. Another cape that was a member was Skidmark's girlfriend, Squealer, a Tinker able to modify vehicles into huge, ungainly monstrosities.

That left Empire 88, who name was drawn from the first letters of Heil Hitler, HH. H just happening to be the eighth letter in the alphabet, therefore 88. They certainly lived up to their name and recruited racists and white supremacists from all over the country, both powered and non-powered. They had the most powerful group of capes in the city, even stronger than the local Protectorate, led by Kaiser. Kaiser had the ability to form and manipulate steel, creating dozens of different shapes with it, although a lot of them resembled blades. That was likely a personal fetish, though.

I had a long way to go before I could take on any of these guys, even the Merchants. I sighed as I hefted my backpack, and started looking for several smaller pieces of plate steel I could stuff inside for my use later. It was time to leave, plus I was getting hungry.

~~~Railgun~~~

I went in the back door avoiding the broken step on our front porch. I grabbed a shower after I put my backpack away. Afterward I started making lunch. Which was when my dad came in.

Dad's soft, brown eyes seemed to examine me minutely even as he greeted me, "Hey, kiddo."

It was his eyes that I had inherited, although mine looked a lot bigger in my thin face. Maybe someday I'd grow into them, I thought facetiously. "Hi, Dad."

He seemed to swallow, then walked over and gave me a hug. I hugged him back, then released him after a moment.

Almost casually, Dad asked, "How did you sleep?"

It looked like I was in for a game of Twenty Questions, but I knew it was concern, not nosiness that drove him. In an effort to head this off, I answered more than just his question. "I slept fine, dad. I am fine. I'm not having nightmares that often anymore. And with no more bullying at school, even that's tolerable. I'm more worried about you. Anymore problems with the Merchants down at the Docks?"

It was something he'd told me about over dinner Wednesday evening, likely in an effort to help get us closer. I wasn't sure how effective it had been on that front, but it did make me worry more about him now than I had before. The part of the Docks where he worked was supposed to be safe.

He shook his head. "Not in the last couple of days."

Relieved, I asked, "Are you hungry? I was just going to heat up some lasagna."

Dad's tired, intelligent eyes had a knowing look in them as he gazed back at me. He seemed to realize the futility of pushing me, though, and merely said, "I'd love some lasagna. Might as well heat up the whole box."

I nodded, putting it all in and turning on the oven. "Want to watch a movie later? We could rent one of those Earth Aleph movies that we haven't seen before."

A smile creased the lines of his mouth and he nodded. "Sure thing. So what did you spend your morning doing after your run? I heard you showering again."

"I was just over on the Boardwalk window shopping. I got splashed by a car while I was waiting for the bus so I needed another shower." I hated how easily I lied to him, although by his expression, Dad believed me.

Dad nodded at that. "Don't forget to put your clothes into the wash before the movie. You don't want any stains to set."

I forced myself to smile. "I won't."

His return smile was genuine. "So what movie did you want to watch? I'm leaning towards Ferris Bueller's Day Off, myself."

~~~Railgun~~~

On Sunday, I decided to try to see like I had the morning before. I spent more than an hour being frustrated after trying everything from meditation to pushing so much magnetism into myself that the lights overhead flickered as the forces involved stimulated the electrons of anything remotely conductive around me.

Dialing back, I considered the issue. Somehow, I had seen without my glasses yesterday. I hadn't done anything special to do so, merely needing it. Had I actually tried something as simple as that to activate the power? Glumly, I decided that I hadn't, caught up in more complex solutions.

Taking off my glasses, I sat in my room staring at the alarm clock, which I placed on my dresser on the opposite side. I could barely see that there was a shape there, but couldn't make heads or tails of the hands or tell the time.

I tried to see the numbers on the clock, pushing so hard that it started to give me a headache. There was a sudden flicker, then another. At the third, my headache bloomed full bore. I didn't give up, however, just focusing upon trying to see as flickers of clearer vision happened over and over again.

Finally, though, with a sensation akin to a snap, it was as if the ability just fell into place. The world was as clear as if I had never needed glasses at all. Wow was the only thing that I could think as I examined my suddenly visible world.

It took me a few seconds to realize that I was also seeing as if the room was super bright, instead of only dimly lit by the late afternoon sunshine. Trying to be careful not to turn it off, I got up and walked over to my closet. Opening the door, I stepped inside and shut it after me.

Okay, I thought, this is beyond cool. I could still see as if it were bright as day. Of course, now I would need to break out the broom and dust cloth as my closet was actually kind of filthy, especially the floor. But it was worth it. Definitely worth it.

I don't know why I wanted to see back into my room, but the only thing I could think of was that I wanted to know what time it was. I was suddenly able to see the face of the alarm clock.

What the hell? Was I seeing right through the closet door? Okay, this was pretty damn cool and I was suddenly glad I was a teenage girl as the number of ways a teenage boy could abuse it were infinite.

I was a bit less sanguine about my Othersight as I was taking to calling it when I could still see as clear as day at 9:00 pm that evening. Tired, I wanted to go to bed, but I could see whether my eyes were closed or not. Much the same as when saw detected electric and bio-electric fields, my eyelids did nothing to block the effects.

Which scared me. Because I wasn't sure I would ever be able to sleep if I couldn't shut it off. Finally, I just decided to go to bed. Oddly, almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, my Othersight shut off and I stopped being able to see. Sometime shortly thereafter, I went to sleep.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 3*: Arc 1: Loading—102 Interlude A

Arc 1: Loading—1.02 Interlude A

~~~Railgun~~~

On the bad days, Emily Piggot sometimes wondered if being the director of the Parahuman Response Team here in Brockton Bay was worth it. She didn't feel that way on the good days, of course. On the good days, she felt she was making a difference. That humanity was just a little bit safer from the threat of Endbringers and the Parahumans themselves. That discipline and hard work could overcome anything, even the monsters out there that she had seen with her own eyes. Unfortunately, today was not a good day. Instead, today was a really bad day.

They had finally received the official report of the Sophia Hess aka Shadowstalker Investigation. It was bad in so many different ways. A member of the Wards had bullied and terrorized a classmate to the point she could have potentially caused the young girl's death. Bullying that had been consistently happening for at least a year and a half. In the latest case, only good brakes and better reflexes by the driver of the car that had just missed Taylor Hebert had saved her life. Unfortunately, many of the following drivers lacked Mr O'Neill's reflexes and had crashed into him, creating a domino effect, causing dozens of injuries, some serious, and a large amount of property damage.

It had also led to a police investigation that, because of the amount of media coverage, could not be squashed. Emily cursed slow news days. It was such a day that had led to a tidbit about a teen being bullied becoming a lead story. It had burst across the airwaves, interrupting regularly scheduled programming as it captured the sympathies of the entire city. Emily had been left holding a phone with the police commissioner on the other end of the line, completely unable to force him to act.

So, instead of a blackout of the story followed up by Hess' probation being overturned and her being sent to a Parahuman Juvenile Facility to serve out the rest of her sentence, Emily had had to work behind the scenes. Oh, Hess' fate hadn't been any different in this new reality, just faster, as she'd been immediately detained pending the outcome of the investigation. But Emily had needed a way to mitigate the fall out from the various parties involved.

Panacea had just 'happened' to visit the hospital where those injured in the accidents had gone, healing everyone. And the PRT had quietly taken care of vehicle repairs for all of those involved with complimentary rental cars handed out in the meantime. Most painfully, Daniel Hebert had received a much larger settlement from the school than even he had expected, one that would end up coming out of her discretionary budget for this year.

The money wasted on this incident hurt. It meant fewer officers on the street, and those that were, being less well-equipped. The public would thereby be a little less safe. The other ramifications hurt as well. Such as her budget for next year being examined under a microscope and losing some amount of future funding as a less-than-subtle punishment. Then there was the possibility of investigations of herself, Armsmaster, and Aegis as to their knowledge of, and level of culpability for, Hess' fuck up.

It meant that every single person in the PRT who learned about Hess would be just that little bit less trusting of capes in a time when they were an absolute necessity for the survival of the human race. After all, most them were parents, too. While Emily didn't think this one incident would cause the tide to turn, she didn't really know one way or the other. There were whole teams of Thinkers in the Protectorate whose sole job was to watch and contemplate for when a tipping point of public opinion would be reached, doing everything possible in the meantime to prevent it from happening.

At least the knowledge that Sophia Hess was a Ward was being kept suppressed from the public. It hadn't taken much arm bending for the police to allow them to deal with Hess in house. Harder had been dealing with Emma Barnes and her scum-sucking father who had tried to hold the PRT hostage for the tuition for Emma to attend a prestigious private school. Alan Barnes had even tried to have them pressure the police to drop all of the charges against his own daughter, but Emily had countered with the not-so-subtle threat of arresting him and his daughter and charging them with treason for violating a PRT nondisclosure agreement.

She'd even mentioned what happened to those who were discovered trying to out a cape, something that tended to draw the ire of heroes and villains alike. While heroes would likely stick to lawful means of addressing something of this nature, villains were likely to blow up your house with you and your family in it. In the end, she'd vanquished Barnes, but it had left a bad taste in her mouth.

The only good thing to come out of this fiasco was that a threat to the teamwork of the Wards had been neutralized. It was only after the investigation began that Emily understood just how much the girl's own teammates disliked Shadowstalker. Actually, dislike wasn't nearly a strong enough term, as even Vista, who Emily considered a quiet, reasonable girl, had hammered Shadowstalker's reputation flat in interviews, her disgust clearly visible on the video recordings.

Emily's thoughts were interrupted by her door opening and a figure entering. With suppressed hostility, she demanded, "In the future, please knock before entering."

Armsmaster, the person who had just walked into her office, had the grace to look at least slightly abashed. Still, there was no trace of apology in his tone as he said, "I'm here to talk about Hess."

Emily gave no outward indication of how much she wanted to throttle Armsmaster as he appeared ready to revisit a decision that had already been made days before. "I don't see the point, Armsmaster. You were there for most of the interviews. You've seen the final report. Not only is Shadowstalker dangerously unstable, but she's an actual detriment to the cohesion of our Ward Team. We can't-"

Armsmaster declared flatly, "She's another cape that could absorb some of the damage from an Endbringer attack, potentially leaving a more important hero able to make a more effective blow-"

"Enough." Emily leveled a glare on the arrogant man across the table from her. "There's nothing to stop her from joining in fights against Endbringers on a case by case basis while serving her time. You're free to try to persuade her. What you will not do is promise her any kind of leniency regarding her time or the conditions in which she serves it in. She's done the crime, now she needs to accept responsibility for her actions. Or she will never have a chance to change for the better, and we'll have another villain out there."

Armsmaster's eyes were hard as steel as he stared her down. "It's far from impossible to put controls in place that will force her to toe the line. Understand, I no more countenance her actions than you do, but if there is any way to salvage her and keep her from turning villain in the future, it behooves us to take it. Perhaps some kind of intensely supervised parole where her actions are kept under a microscope. I would be willing to donate ten hours a week towards something of this nature. I am certain that the other Protectorate members would do the same.″

Because you've already asked them, Emily thought, furious that he wouldn't let it go. Still, it was in character for the man to behave this way. He was nothing if not tenacious when going after what he wanted. Still, she needed to squash this right now. ″Even if I wanted to approve this, and I'm not sure that I do, there is no way Youth Guard would approve. What you're proposing functionally makes Hess part of the Protectorate, for all intents and purposes. There are too many rules in place to prevent actions of that exact nature. Even Chevalier two years ago couldn't get a similar approval for Domino.″

″Who turned villain almost as soon he got out of juvenile detention. Now he's running with the Panzers down in Atlanta.″

Emily barely kept from yawning, more a function of exhaustion than boredom, but didn't think she hid her feelings for the subject of the conversation as well as she would have liked, based upon Armsmaster's expression. It was time to end this conversation. "If you have nothing else, I am very busy today."

Without another word, Armsmaster left. Emily stared at his retreating figure, fighting back her anger. There was one other reason that she wasn't going to allow Sophia Hess to dodge her punishment. Useful or not, reviled by her teammates or not, what she had done to Taylor Hebert was vile and disgusting and Emily would not allow it to stand. Even if it had been done by a normal person, she would have pursued them to the full extent of the law. That it was done by a cape only made it worse.

In Emily Piggot's eyes, Parahumans should be held to a higher standard that the ordinary people around them. They had been gifted or cursed, depending on who you talked to, with great power. And with that power came a responsibility to use it for the good of all. Because of that power, which could often kill at a touch, they couldn't be given the benefit of the doubt when they made mistakes. Instead, they needed to be dealt with fairly, but also sternly. Maybe if they did that, there would be a few less human monsters walking around out there. Maybe.

In the meantime, she'd needed to have someone head over to Winslow and emphasize what would happen if any of those NDA's were violated. Plus, it wouldn't be a bad idea to remove the Hebert girl completely from the environment. She'd already applied to Arcadia. Moving her application to the top of the waiting list so that she would be transferred immediately would make sure she didn't have an opportunity to ask questions of staff. Emily decided that between those two measures she shouldn't have to worry about anything becoming public and embarrassing the PRT or Protectorate. After all, dealing with these matter was all in the details.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 4*: Arc 1: Loading—103

Arc 1: Loading—1.03

~~~Railgun~~~

I stared at the results of my latest attempt to make a vambrace. Okay, I decided, it wasn't too bad, just the tiniest bit off. If I added a bit more metal to it, and stretched it out just the tiniest bit, it should line up with the point on my elbow that was the perfect spot.

As it turned out, making armor was a lot harder than I had thought. When I said harder, I meant 'I hated doing this more and more every day' harder. But it was ever so slowly becoming easier, mostly because I had decided upon a style of armor from the medieval period.

Based upon Milanese armor circa fourteen hundred and fifty AD, I'd decided upon it as the best possible solution to what I wanted to accomplish. What I wanted was armor that would protect all of my exposed skin, not just my torso, head, and legs. That meant, I needed armor that would fit together like a puzzle, and still be able to move freely when I did.

Which armorers all the way back in the tenth century had figured out. The suit I had chosen to emulate was a lot more advanced that initial armors. It was also pretty damn complicated, with a huge number of pieces which all had to fit together perfectly.

What I had done was download a set of blueprints off of the internet, then I had used the accompanying directions in the text file to cut down the sizes based upon my measurements. Nominally intended for a LARP group, I wasn't sure that the damn thing hadn't been modified at some point by a Parahuman Thinker, as it seemed that the directions were almost too good.

Take the vambrace I had just been working upon. Designed to protect the lower arm, it was essentially a metal tube that enclosed that part of a person's body, keeping it safe from slashing and stabbing attacks. It also had to be perfectly sized to keep it from chafing or being immobile when it was worn, not that I had the first issue, as my power kept it off my skin.

But the immobile part sucked ass as I had found out when I attached it to the revebrace that I had already made. That part of the armor protected the upper arm and attached to the pauldrons, which covered the shoulders. Attached, I hadn't been able to bend my arm at all. Which annoyed me to no end.

I'd already remade both of the latter items half a dozen times before I finally got them right. The pauldrons were one of the pieces of armor where fit was the most important. Even being off by the slightest amount, made wearing it untenable, especially as a base for all of the other arm pieces.

My completed pauldrons and rerebraces were sitting on a steel stand that I had put together a week ago, once I actually had a piece of armor to put on it. Hopefully, they would soon be joined by the vambraces, once I worked out the remaining bugs.

Then I was set to work on my gauntlets and helm. The gauntlets might just be the most complex item I would make, as they needed to be able to flex like real fingers. There were well over a dozen pieces that needed to be made and fitted for each one, something which was going to be a pain.

However, that wasn't any worse than the helm. I'd figured out that I made a mistake when I'd made my earlier mask. Not just because there was no way to attach it to my helmet, at least not without a drastic reworking of the metal, but also because of the eye slits.

The idea of something getting through those small holes, something which you simply couldn't discount when fighting other Parahumans, scared me. Plus, the vision through them sucked.

While I could see using my Othersight whether my normal vision was blocked or not, it wasn't something that I wanted to solely depend upon in combat. No, I needed a better idea than that.

Which brought me to my latest experiment. I had read up on how lead glass was made and wondered if I could do the same thing with iron. In front of me was about a pound of clear broken glass as well as a large pile of metal shavings.

I used my power on the pile of glass, slowly ratcheting up the level until I felt waves of heat hitting my face. Absently, I flexed my power, pushing the heat away from me and directing it back into the glass that was starting to melt.

I had gotten a lot better at redirecting heat since my first attempt a couple of weeks back. Now I could use it to cool myself, as well as direct it to wherever I wanted. Which came in handy when I was working out now, as I was able to cool my body without even the need to sweat.

I did the same thing to the pile of metal shavings, heating them until the metal started to run like water. Now for the mixing part.

Deciding that the glass in front of me was molten enough, I slowly add the molten metal to it, using my power to lift the metal into the glass, then to stir them together until the resulting material was completely homogeneous. Then I tested the resulting mixture to see if it had magnetic characteristics.

The molten material stirred under the lash of my power, but not enough. Or so I thought. To tell the truth, I was completely feeling my way on this. I added a bit more molten metal, then did it again, until the final mixture seemed sufficiently magnetic.

Then I allowed the resulting material to cool.

While I was waiting, I worked desultorily on the helm, shaping a few pieces of metal into a round shape, minus the front part where my face would be. I adjusted the shape further based upon something I had seen on the internet as I didn't want the helm to look as medieval as some of the rest of the armor.

Turning back to the glass, I reached out with my power and lifted it up. Deciding it was cool enough to work now, I tried to mold it into a new shape. There was a sudden crack and I instinctively shielded myself with my power.

There was a sphere of broken glass about three feet across hanging in mid-air where the piece of glass had been. I silently whistled. That would have been incredibly dangerous if I hadn't managed to grab it before it scattered.

Clearly, I was off on my mixture. Or maybe I had to keep the glass molten while working it with my power until it toughened enough to attach to my helm. It was something I was going to have to work on over the next few weeks.

Shaking my head, I went back to square one. Maybe I'd spend some time making the room more secure while I figured out another approach.

~~~Railgun~~~

"What's wrong, Taylor? Emma got your tongue? I heard about the two of you, now I can see that it's true."

I tried to not allow Sarah Mitchell's words to get to me, but I was failing. Sarah Mitchells was a a popular and pretty junior who had never really followed along with my trio of tormentors. Instead, she'd stayed aloof, avoiding becoming involved. Not that she hadn't laughed when Emma had dumped most of a Red Slurpee all over me, as well as other times, but she personally was never involved in bullying me. Out of the blue, she had started in on me about two weeks before. I didn't know why, and I didn't care. It was annoying, but after Emma, not something I couldn't handle.

I figured I would just keep my head down and she would probably get tired of it before I did.

Sarah's cruelly sly tone sounded again, "You know, Taylor, if you want to go find a place to cry, we can probably find another locker for you do it in."

What the hell had that bitch just said? I looked directly at her and it was all I could do not to attack her. I think she saw something in my eyes, because there was just the slightest apprehension in her eyes as she looked back at me.

"Ms Mitchell, exactly what do you think you're doing?"

We both turned at the sound of the voice behind us. Stunned, I stared at Mr Gladly, who was standing there with his hands on his hips, glaring at my tormentor. "I believe that I asked you a question."

"Mr Gladly, I was just teasing Taylor."

"It didn't sound like teasing to me. It sounded a lot like bullying."

"No sir, it was just a little friendly banter between friends."

Mr Gladly didn't look convinced. In a determined voice, he stated, "I don't care. If I hear anything else even slightly along those lines from you again, we can take this before Principal Blackwell and see what she thinks about what I just witnessed. Am I clear?"

Sarah nodded sulkily. "Yes sir. Crystal clear."

"Good." Mr Gladly gave me one final look, then with a nod, he walked off.

What the hell had just happened?

~~~Railgun~~~

Okay, this was not going to work. I stared at the mess that was supposed to be the equivalent of a chain undershirt but was completely worthless. How the hell was I supposed to make something like this?

I'd tried so far to make a shirt out of metal links, but it wasn't working well. The links themselves, tiny things that they were, weren't that hard to make, nor to combine. But somehow, when I tried to turn them into a shirt, it all went wrong.

Maybe I was approaching this entire thing from the wrong direction. Maybe if I made material first, I could then cut it out and make a shirt from it. Heck if what I made was nice enough I might even be able to wear it out.

I felt a blush heat my face as I contemplated some of the metal outfits I had previously seen when doing research on the web. Both the dress and the halter top weren't even close to anything I would ever consider wearing, as you couldn't wear a bra with either and they clung far too intimately for modesty's sake.

But if I could make material, then shirts, I could use whatever pattern I wanted. So first to make material.

I started out by making a few thousand pieces of metal that would become superfine chain mail. Or chain cloth, rather. Then I used my power to start weaving them together. Almost immediately I learned the benefits of this type of fine control on my power.

It was as if I had extra senses available as I wove hundreds upon hundreds of tiny electromagnetic fields together. It actually felt like I could do a lot more pieces than just the ones in front of me. Surprisingly soon, I was done.

I fingered the twelve by twelve inch swath of gray metal cloth that I had made. Could it really be that easy, I wondered? Cautiously, I picked up the scissors and tried to cut the material. Not surprisingly, it didn't have any effect. I had already felt the material beginning to toughen up, so I had figured it wouldn't cut with just scissors.

Next, I tried cutting the material using my power. That went a lot better. Joining it back together was a bit harder, but I managed. So it could be made into clothing.

I took a deep breath. Now to try the final experiment.

I had been looking for a way to color my armor and had stumbled across a type of paint that had a metallic base, specifically ferric iron, that gave it its distinctive glittering finish. I'd bought one can to try it out before buying more.

In front of me I had the swatch of cloth, as well as piece of metal that I had worked my power upon. I wanted to see how it would look on my armor as well, although clearly I didn't want glittering gold for that. Still, it would be a good first test.

Shaking the can vigorously, I began spraying it in slow, careful strokes across my items. I ended up putting three different coats over the piece of metal. It ended up looking great. However, the metal cloth, once I lifted it up, looked anything but right.

The paint had ended up not just covering the metal, but the spaces in between, so when I moved it, it cracked and broke. I had half expected it to happen and had an idea, but first I wanted to see if I could even get the paint to stick to the metal once I began using my power upon it.

I took up the piece of metal, which was almost like a larger version of one of my metal rounds, about ten inches across. Then I tossed it into the air, hanging it there with my power. Then I began using my power to do tiny, micro-adjustments in the metal and its surface. I focused on trying to blend the two of them together.

It was amazing how much my earlier work with the micro links helped in doing this. I had to use my power on such a small scale, but at the same time, putting a lot of power into it, that I wasn't sure I would have been able to do this immediately without that practice. I could feel the iron in the coating and the iron in the flat piece slowly melding together until they became one piece.

I focused more power on the metal piece and tried to flex it. Okay, that was damn hard. Which meant it was ready. Lowering it into my hands, I carefully examined what I had created.

The flat metal round was a beautiful, glittering gold in color, light reflecting off of it in waves. It really was stunning to look at. But I needed it to be more. So I set the metal on a makeshift table I'd built, picked up a solid pieces of I-beam steel with my power, and began smashing into it as hard as I could.

Almost immediately, I stuck two fingers into my ears, because the noise was nothing less than insane. I kept it up for about five minutes, then finally stopped, ears ringing despite my fingers. I leaned over to carefully examine the metal round.

There was a bunch of rust, metal fragments, and crap all over it, but with a gust of magnetism, it flew off. That left the surface of the metal round exposed. As I looked at it, I managed to activate my Othersight, and was able to take a very close look at it.

The surface of the round was still just as smooth and glittering as it had been before. Not a single chip had been knocked out of the top. It was every bit as perfect as it had been before. A grin of delight curved my lips as I felt like I literally couldn't wait to try some of my chosen color on my actual armor. Now I just needed to solve the situation with the chain cloth.

Using my power, I managed to tear off all of the old paint from the piece I had made. I decided to try it again, but this time within my magnetic field. What I was going to try to do was make sure that every single link was covered with zero over spray in between. I wasn't sure if it would work, but it couldn't be worse than the earlier trial.

Shaking the can again, I extended my magnetic fields, then began spraying. I could literally feel the tiny particles of iron in the paint, and did my best to use my power to flow them into a light coating over the entire surface of the micro-links. Then I continued to hold it in mid-air while I waited for it to dry.

I was just about to put on another coat when I realized that it didn't really need it. By using my power, I'd ensured such an even coating that it didn't really require a second one. Now, hanging in front of me was a beautiful, glittering piece of metallic gold cloth.

Huh. I slowly pushed my power into the cloth, bind the paint to the metal, working the tiny magnetic fields over and into the material again and again. As I felt sweat start to break out over my skin, I shunted additional power to radiating heat away from me, all the while I continued working on the metal cloth.

After a few minutes, I decided that was enough. Looking it over, I didn't need my Othersight to see that the metal cloth was pretty much perfect. The glittering color of gold, it hung there in the air so bright and beautiful that it took my breath away.

Now for the real test, I thought. Bringing it over the metal table, I used the same I-beam to smash the cloth as I'd used on the round. For a moment, I was a bit concerned as I was probably hitting the material I'd made harder than even a bullet would have, but if it was going to rip or tear, now was the time to find out.

In the end, though, it looked just as good as the metal round did, once I cleared off the detritus. Okay, I was in business. Now I just had to make a few yards and color it either the gold I'd already bought, or the same color as my armor, an ebony black.

Don't ask me why I'd decided on black, but the color just appealed to me, and not just because it would make me at least a little stealthy. I could actually picture it in my mind's eye. A flying, battling knight wearing gleaming black armor. It almost made me shiver at the thought of how it would look once done.

Of course I wouldn't be able to feel the air upon my face, but that wasn't such a big deal as I would-

My brain stuttered to a complete halt. Slowly the details of a plan that would allow me to fly whenever I wanted to percolated down from the innermost depths of my brain.

Okay, so what if I made not just the inner body suit for going under my armor, but a few sets of clothes, tops and pants and such? I was fairly sure that I could easily lift my body using a shirt and pants with my magnetism. Wearing clothes like these, I would be able to fly.

I also had to admit that flight wasn't my only criteria here. For a very long time, I had been bullied by Emma and company, who had done their very best to utterly destroy any vestige of my femininity, likely in an effort to completely break me. I had managed to hold onto my long, curly brunette hair through sheer stubbornness, but sometimes it had been a close thing.

But ultimately, I was a girl, dammit, and had a desire to look pretty. I knew that I wasn't all that much, tall and skinny, and plain, but maybe if I wore something beautiful, it would rub off on me. Then again, maybe it wouldn't. But the New Taylor I was trying to be wouldn't be afraid of at least trying.

So then and there I decided that I would try to find a seamstress to make me some clothing of metal cloth once I had made enough to matter. I'd also get them to make me an undersuit for wearing beneath my armor to make sure to cover all gaps, not that there would be many with the full plate mail I'd chosen to emulate.

As I stood there contemplating all of this, a slow smile stole over my mouth, even though I knew it would mean even more work than I already had planned.

~~~Railgun~~~

I quickly climbed down into the interior of the derelict ship which I had made my 'official' hide out. I had cordoned off a room just off the main hold that held my workshop. I had made it as secure as humanly possible using my power. I had reinforced the metal of the walls, roof, and floor, and the metal was now very tough, although not as tough as it could be, as the exercise of using my power on so much material had kicked my ass and I'd had to cut corners.

Still against most threats, it was virtually impregnable. It was also a great place to keep my armor and other gear while I was working on it, as well as anything else related to my new future as a cape. Even better, the nearby main hold was great for working on my power as it was as private a place as I was likely to find.

I had now been running, doing calisthenics, and free climbing with my power for just over six weeks and I could feel the difference in my wind and general level of fitness. No more noodle arms and legs after a work out these days. Instead, I felt tired, but good, and my general energy level had been steadily rising. My slight paunch had flattened out, and when I flexed my arm, there was a visible bicep there. Not large, but very firm.

My triceps had the same firmness, no longer jiggling when I moved my arm. My legs were still far too thin, but they, too, were getting stronger the more I exercised. Even better, my mood also seemed to rise with my increasing level of fitness, which was a good thing because of the short bout of bullying I'd dealt with recently.

After Mr Gladly had stopped her, Sarah Mitchell hadn't bothered me too much since, something for which I was grateful. I didn't know why she had started doing it, nor did I know why one of my least favorite teachers had stopped it.

I hadn't been the only one surprised that day. I had seen the faces of my classmates and Mr Gladly's intervention had been the last thing any of them expected. It had virtually disarmed Sarah, limiting her to gossiping with her friends and spreading rumors about me, but none of them to my face or anywhere a teacher could overhear. And it had made me think. Why had the teachers turned a blind eye to Emma, Sophia, and Madison's bullying, but not to Sarah's? What was so different about the two situations?

I had come up with a few explanations. The most reasonable being that, after the settlement with my dad, the last thing the school administration wanted was for it to happen again. So they had informed the teachers to be on the look out for it. Which made sense in a self-centered kind of way as it was driven more by self-interest than a desire to do the right thing. But somehow, it rang hollow. I wasn't sure why, just that it did. I suspected I was going to have to ask Mr Gladly directly if I wanted a better explanation.

I shook off the dark thoughts and focused on something positive. My future status as a hero for example. I had made significant progress on the costume that I would be wearing when I made my debut. As I climbed down into what was swiftly becoming my home away from home, I looked forward to working on my costume more today after I worked on my ability.

Setting my bag on the floor, I walked over the stands that held my armor, each piece spread out. So far, the completed pieces consisted of the face mask and the matching back half that together made a helmet, a gorget, a breastplate and corresponding backplate, pauldrons, vambraces, rerebraces, and a tasset.

It had been surprisingly difficult making the armor. But, then again, I should have known it would be. As it turned out, I knew nothing about the actual mechanics of how a suit of armor was made and fit together. Even with the plans I'd downloaded, along with their directions for alterations as needed, hadn't answered all of my questions.

Fortunately, I was a quick learner. I had, for example, rapidly figured out how badly I'd messed up making my face mask. While it would float on what was essentially a cushion of electromagnetic force above my skin, it still needed to be fastened to the other pieces of my armor to make it more secure. I had not allowed for that. In the end, it had actually been easier to make another face mask the right way, than to adjust the one I'd already made. The metal, once I had shaped it with my power, was that tough.

Another mistake I'd made originally was to not allow for any kind of eye protection, such as lenses, to keep my eyes safe in a fight. Later, I had considered ordinary glass or possibly plastic lenses, but neither had seemed strong enough.

In the end, the ironglass I'd gone with had worked out well, even if I had to repeat the original experiment several times to get the mixture right so that it was clear enough to see through. And so it wouldn't explode when I was manipulating it with my power. That wasn't something I would forget anytime soon, the glass erupting out from its original shape. Fortunately, the last batch had a high enough iron content to be stable and allow me to manipulate it with my power.

After I'd finally come up with a formula for my visor, I had to change the design of the helm twice because I had not liked the lack of visibility. I had ultimately decided on a different look entirely after testing the new material and finding out just how durable the addition of the iron made it.

After getting rid of any features that gave away my sex, I made the front of the mask a single visor of ironglass that was vertically flat and horizontally curved, running from ear to ear. At its widest, along the bridge of my nose, it was four inches tall, while tapering up to about one inch by the time it reached my ears. It allowed a fantastic amount of visibility versus just having lenses for my eyes and blended seamlessly into the surface of the mask, which was now much flatter and more starkly modern looking. Unfortunately, as easily as I could see out, someone else could see in.

After further experimentation, I finally discovered a solution. With the addition of an ultrathin coating to the interior of the ironglass, I eventually managed to make the glass mirrored so I could look out, but no one could see me. Even better, the ironglass was only the slightest bit less strong than the armor around it, so I wouldn't have to worry about anything getting through and into my eyes. I had also solved the connection problem for the two pieces of the helm.

The connections for the helm and some of the new pieces I'd made now had a very important thing going for them. They attached together with metal pins, whose heads fit into keyhole slots, fastening them together securely. Just as important, they could be removed without using my power, a solution to a just-in-case scenario where I was too weak to use my powers to remove my armor (or unconscious, which I did not like to think about). I wasn't one hundred percent sure if I would have the physical strength to remove them in that scenario, but I was getting stronger every day. If it turned out I didn't, I could probably get someone to help me take it off.

Regardless, I was making some seriously cool armor, one piece at a time. The breastplate was the last piece that needed to be finished. It was exactly as it sounded, a solid plate of treated steel ranging from a quarter inch to a half inch thick that would be ridiculously tough, as was the corresponding back plate, which should provide my torso with protection from most threats.

Being based almost completely on a set of Milanese plate mail, there was nothing to give away my sex, something which I was happy about. I had actually added a thicker line in the center of the breastplate so as to aid shedding force from projectiles or explosives to either side, making it even more asexual. All that remained to complete it was to extend the bottom of the breastplate, to cover any gaps, then infuse it with my power.

I looked at the stand with the completed pieces. First, there was the gorget, a rounded piece of steel that transitioned from the helmet to the breastplate to the pauldrons. It protected the neck and kept someone from cutting or stabbing your throat. The one I'd made actually worked very well, and allowed a range of motion that I hadn't believed at first. However, as I saw just how perfectly fitted my armor was, I began to understand why I was able to move as well as I did in it.

When I had originally read up on plate mail, I wasn't sure I believed that a knight could actually not just fight in a complete suit, but they could do most things short of a somersault while wearing it. As it turned out, most of the stories of knights being almost like turtles when they fell over were based upon specialized tournament armor that was a lot heavier and less flexible than regular plate.

No, all of my armor worked well together to give me a complete range of motion. I'd tested it myself on a couple of occasions and it hadn't been that hard to move, although that had been without the breast plate and back plate on. With those, the armor would be heavier, but still not impossible. I wouldn't be turning cartwheels anytime soon, but I could fight if I had to.

Now that I had completed so much of the armor, I could focus on painting it. I had finished all of my experiments with paint and had picked my color from the color palette from the paint manufacturer. Ebony Black was what it was called and it was absolutely perfect for the look I was going for.

So far I had only painted and cured the two pieces of the helmet, which I looked over before putting them on. The resulting helmet literally gleamed in the light coming in from outside. I could even see clearly through the helm's visor, whether with my glasses, or using my Othersight.

With my helmet now on, I started working on the different applications of my ability. I was pleased to see that I was up to five shots a minute when firing metal discs, using my 'railgun' ability before fatigue set in. I had started out only able to do three and had already improved substantially. Eventually, I wanted to be able to work up to at least ten shots per minute or even more. As the last splash started to subside, I moved on to electrostatic wall climbing once I'd rested a bit.

I was getting a lot better at this too through my practice, growing a just little stronger every day. At the end of my session, I had a smile on my face despite the sweat dripping off me, something which even bleeding off heat hadn't prevented when I was working this hard. Everything was improving. I was now able to lift three tons of metal and simultaneously manipulate several hundred individual smaller pieces, moving them in extremely intricate patterns as my control continued to improve. My electrical blasts were now powerful enough to melt steel, blasting out like bolts of lightning. But I still couldn't fly no matter how I tried.

Shaking my head, I finally gave up. I hadn't made any significant progress recently in using my power to fly and it irked me. At best, I had reduced my weight by just over half, and that was after taking iron supplements. While I wasn't giving up just yet, I was starting to doubt that I would ever succeed in actually flying just using my power. At best, I might end up being able to hover or slow a fall.

It wasn't as if I needed to fly like that, as I would be able to lift the entire suit with myself in it, a version of flight. It was also something I had already succeeded with just wearing the incomplete upper half of my armor. I had just wanted to be able to do it without armor, to feel the wind in my hair and on my face. However, that would just have to wait until I finished more of the metal cloth and found a seamstress for it. Thinking about everything I still had on my list, I almost felt dismayed. I still had so much to do.

~~~Railgun~~~

I finished my computer assignment in Mrs Knott's class and emailed it to her to grade. Then I set out to do a little research on Parahumans dot net. I was really only killing time until Mr Gladly's class. I had decided that today was the day I confronted him regarding his about face on the bullying. While in some ways I was dreading the answer, I felt like I really needed to know.

More importantly, it was my last day at Winslow High as my request all those months ago to transfer to Arcadia had finally come through and I was starting there tomorrow. Principal Blackwell had made sure to let me know that she had found a way to make it happen and that I should be suitable grateful. I had managed to say thanks while gritting my teeth. Still, it was a new start and I was actually looking forward to school tomorrow with people I didn't know and who didn't know me.

After a few minutes, I actually got interested in my research as it had turned up a potential name for a seamstress. It turned out that a local rogue named Parian was supposed to be a whiz with a needle and thread, and who primarily focused her efforts on parades and animating huge figures, mascots, animals, and such. Still, there was no reason that she wouldn't be able to make clothes as well. I actually preferred the idea of working with another Parahuman rather than a normal person.

I'd need to talk to her. I was pretty sure I had enough metal cloth to at least get started. The only sticking point was money, but I hoped we could work something out. Heck, maybe I could make her some super scissors or something.

All too soon, the class was over and I headed to World Issues. I sat in my usual seat, now that I didn't have to worry about the presence of anything from glue to orange juice anymore and waited more or less patiently for the class to finish. Of course, it dragged along forever as today was a day for discussion groups, and my misfit one was a complete waste of time.

When the bell finally rang, I stifled a sigh of relief and lingered as the last of my classmates filed out the door. Mr Gladly had an almost apprehensive look on his face as he noticed me still sitting there. After a moment, when I didn't leave, he asked, "Taylor, is there something I can do for you?"

I took a deep breath, ignoring the sick feeling in my stomach. Getting up, I walked over to stand in front of him. "I wanted to talk with you. About what happened a few weeks ago. With Sarah Mitchell." There. I'd said it. Now I waited for his response.

He didn't look surprised and his questions seemed more rote than genuine. "Why? Did something else happen? Is she bullying you again?"

I shook my head. "No. No. It's nothing like that. I just wanted to know..."

Mr Gladly's face wore an expression of dread, as if he were afraid of me even as he asked, "Know what?"

With a rush, I got out, "Why you never helped me before with any of the bullying that Sophia, Emma, or Madison did?"

His eyes slid off of mine as he looked down and away to his left. He hedged, "I don't know what you mean, Taylor. I encouraged you to come with me to talk to Principal Blackwell, but you refused."

With more courage than I thought I possessed, I stated, "Mr Gladly, you are not a stupid man. You know what I mean. You saw them do far, far worse to me than what Sarah did. So did other teachers. And none of you ever did anything to stop them. I just want to know why. Please tell me."

Mr Gladly wearily perched on the corner of his desk, shoulders slumping. His eyes looked dull as he looked down at the floor. "Taylor, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that."

In a flat tone, I responded, "You mean you won't."

His eyes met mine finally. There was a look of such shame in them that I wanted to turn away. "No, I mean I can't tell you. I can't talk about it. None of us can. We all signed- look, I could get in trouble just talking to you. Please leave this alone for both our sakes. You got your transfer. You're out. Live your life. Forget about this."

I stood there, frozen, my mind working furiously. What was he talking about? What had he signed? A nondisclosure agreement or something else? If it was the former, the only thing he would need to fear for prosecution was the government. Who else could scare him? So it almost had to be them in some fashion. Was it the FBI? US Marshalls? Was Sophia or one of the others in witness protection? It seemed unlikely. Was it...

Like lightning, a thought hit me. The Protectorate and the PRT. Teachers wouldn't need to know about someone in witness protection, but if a teenage cape, a member of the Wards, was going here, they would need to be told to be understanding of their extra duties. To give them the benefit of the doubt. To let them slide if they did something minor wrong.

I could feel bile rising in my throat as my mind grasped the ramifications of someone like Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, or Madison Clements being considered a hero and a member of the Wards. Bit by bit, I could feel numbness spreading through me as my dream was ground away by this new, brutal reality. Bitterly, I realized that even after all of this time I wasn't free of them. They were still finding new ways to hurt me even when they were no longer here. To take away the things I loved, leaving me with ashes.

"Taylor, are you okay?"

I heard the concern in Mr Gladly's voice and wanted to scream at him. I wanted to use my ability and burn him down where he stood for his part in what had happened. Instead, I held it in. I counted to ten, then to ten again as I struggled to regain my composure. But there seemed to be no number that could contain it.

"Taylor?"

I could feel tears starting to sting my eyes and blinked furiously. I would not give them the satisfaction of making me cry. Never again. I placed the words like armor across my heart. Never again. I would die first.

As if from a great distance, I heard the worry in Mr Gladly's voice. "Taylor! Are you all right?"

Suddenly, I was aware of the flickering light from overhead. An icy feeling washed over me as I realized I could be outed. If I lost control here, they would know I was a cape. And if I were revealed, I could be pressured to join the Wards. I took an iron grip on my emotions and managed a reply, "I'm fine."

Mr Gladly stood, almost wringing his hands as he stared at me. The lights had finally settled down. Glancing upward, he offered a weak joke, "Darn power company. If that had kept up, we'd need to be breaking out sticks for people to bite down on to keep the convulsions from breaking their teeth."

Unfortunately, I couldn't even offer him a weak smile in return. I wanted to ask him if he thought I was a Parahuman after that little display. Instead, I just stood there impassively until he finally asked, "Was there anything else, Taylor?"

I shook my head and shouldered my pack. I started out the door, then paused. I half turned back towards him. "Thanks, Mr Gladly. For talking to me. And... for everything."

He hesitated a second. "I am truly sorry, Taylor."

Wordlessly, I turned back around and left, feeling his sad eyes following me until I was out of sight.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 5*: Arc 1: Loading—104

Arc 1: Loading—1.04

~~~Railgun~~~

It was my first day at Arcadia High and I was justifiably nervous. I was going to be in new classes with new people. People who didn't know about my social isolation at Winslow. Who didn't know me, Taylor Hebert. It was a new start and I, for once, had hope of making friends and improving my life.

The only downside to attending Arcadia was that members of the Wards attended as well. I did not fool myself into thinking I was smart and perceptive enough to know who was and who wasn't a Ward in their civilian disguise. The last thing I wanted to do was make friends with someone like that, both because I didn't want to jeopardize my secret identity and because of what had happened with Mr Gladly and the theory I had come up with.

I had made a decision after going out last night and working on my costume. A decision that I was not going to let my feelings for the PRT and the Protectorate destroy my new start and my life going forward by dragging my perception through a poisonous filter of hate and fear. I might not like what I believed that they had done, but I needed to be strong enough not to allow others to affect me in that way. If I did allow them to affect me, to fill me with dark emotions and even darker fears, I would have no one to blame but myself when things self-destructed.

No, I would give this new start every chance to make me happy. I owed myself that, no matter how it came about. I was not the fastidious nun who turned away drug money as a donation because there was blood on it. No, I would take the bloody money and bleach it by using it to make the world a better place. And maybe destroying its source so there wouldn't be anymore.

I shook off my fanciful thoughts as I walked down the halls of Arcadia. Instead, I spent some time admiring my new school. There wasn't a trace of gang graffiti here on any of the new looking plaster and stone walls. While it would get painted over eventually, there was always something from either the ABB, Empire 88, or the Merchants on the hallway walls of Winslow High. Arcadia looked and felt so much cleaner, like maybe Winslow had back when it was brand new. It was also nicer in a lot of other ways.

One example was my first class. I was again taking Computer One, the equivalent to Mrs Knott's class. Here at Arcadia, instead of being limited to using a terminal in class, we were all issued top-of-the-line laptops, which we were allowed to take home to work on our projects there. I was fortunate that I had been doing 'advanced' work in that class because their regularly assigned work was the equivalent of what I had been doing at Winslow High. At least I wasn't behind and could even work on stuff at home, connecting to the school server through a built in wireless aircard that would reach the school from all over the city.

I was smiling as I left my first class. A smile that continued even when I found out I was behind in Chemistry. It wasn't anything I wouldn't easily be able to make up, especially since no one here was destroying my books and homework on a regular basis. Parahuman Affairs was another interesting class I was taking and a lot better than its equivalent at Winslow, World Issues. For one thing, it was structured with none of the social aspect of Mr Gladly's class. For another, it actually talked about things like the moral issues of possessing powers and what the individual owed society and vice a versa.

I had enjoyed the rousing class discussion, even if I hadn't really participated. I told myself that it was because I was still getting acclimated, but the truth was I wasn't sure what the individual person who gained powers owed to society other than to be a law abiding citizen. Especially, when part of society was a group that lied and abused its power. Of course, I couldn't say that in class. With the overwhelming majority opinion coming down that if you had powers you should join the Protectorate and help save the world, I wasn't going to put myself in opposition my first day.

No, better to quietly fit in and find a place to eat my lunch, I thought, as I searched for an unoccupied table in the busy cafeteria. I was balancing my tray in one hand, filled with food that for once actually appeared edible, while holding my drink in the other when I finally spotted a table. I reached it just as someone else was sitting down and hesitated, not wanting to be intrusive or to stand out.

The other, a boy with short, light brown hair framing a thin face, smiled at me. Looking at me with intelligent eyes, he said, "Go ahead and sit down. I won't bite." He spoke with confidence, despite appearing a little younger than me, and I couldn't help contrasting the two of us.

I almost fled in a panic, both because of his attitude and because he made me feel a little weird. There was something about him... But this was a new start, so taking a deep breath, I went ahead and sat down. Unfortunately, I didn't seem able to talk, which made me start to panic more. Luckily, my table companion rescued me.

He held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Chris. What's your name?"

I shook his hand briefly, then stopped, my hand instinctively reaching up to push up glasses that I no longer wore. Thank God using my power was becoming pretty much automatic. I managed to get out, "I'm Taylor. I'm new here."

Chris, who had been taking a bite of what appeared to be a passable meatloaf, stopped midway, and asked, "Seriously? From where?"

The intensity of his gaze made me want to hide, but I answered anyway. "W-winslow High."

I fiddled with my fork while he whistled silently, his gaze speculative. "Is it as bad as everyone says?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. How bad does everyone say it is?" I took a bite of the same meatloaf. It was more than passable. Just needed some more salt, which I set to adding.

Chris shrugged in return. "Gangs. Graffiti. Fights. Bullying. All the things Arcadia High parents don't want their kids to have to deal with."

I could feel my appetite diminish. I made myself finish chewing my own bite of meatloaf before answering, "It wasn't that bad. The gangs pretty much left you alone if you weren't in an opposing gang. Not that much fighting. There was a fair bit of graffiti. Seemed they never quite caught up with covering it."

From his sharp look, I knew that Chris had caught my lack of explanation about the bullying part of his statement. He appeared to be okay with leaving it alone, though, and the rest of our lunch went okay. We were putting our trays up when another boy walked up, tall and thin with short curly auburn hair. I blinked rapidly as the odd feeling increased. He immediately spoke to Chris.

"Chris, I need to talk to you. Have you heard the latest from Carlos? He said-"

Chris interrupted him. "Dennis, this is Taylor. She's new to Arcadia. Just transferred in from Winslow."

Dennis spared me one look and a quick, "Nice to meet you. Can you give Chris and I a minute, please?"

I quickly nodded and started to walk off, only to have Chris grab my arm. "Taylor, you want to grab something after school? I know a pretty good place in walking distance that makes a great burger, fries, and shakes?"

Was he asking me out? No, it was probably just a friends thing. Taking a deep breath and repeating my mantra of new start over and over, I nodded and said, "Okay. I'll see you after school." Maybe then, I could figure out the weird vibe I was getting from him.

Chris headed off with a wave. "Great! Dennis, now what was so important that it couldn't wait for our next..."

Their voices faded off into the distance as I hurried to my next class.

~~~Railgun~~~

The place turned out to be called Fugly Bob's and served a huge burger, great onion rings and fries, and homemade shakes. Chris and I had met out front of the school and walked over together, chatting about nothing much.

Sitting in a booth, he said, "We should get one burger and split it, that way we can get fries and onion rings. Trust me, you'll want to try them both."

I gave the idea serious consideration before finally nodding. "That sounds fine."

Chris gave me an odd look. "Do you always do that?"

My heart stuttered as I wondered what I had done wrong. "Uh, do what?"

Chris shrugged. "That thing you just did where you acted like ordering was something incredibly important. It was like making a decision was life or death." At my stricken look, he rushed to reassure me, "It's not a bad thing. I just don't usually see people our age that serious."

Be strong, I whispered silently. Out loud, I said, "I guess... yes? I mean, that's just how I am."

He smiled in return. "It's cool. Be right back."

Chris put in the food order along with a couple of chocolate shakes. We engaged in small talk while we waited. "So what's your favorite class so far, Taylor?"

I struggled to meet his eyes, but eventually did. He was smiling at me again. So maybe he thought this was a date. It made my heart beat fast and not in a good way. "Well... I like Parahuman Affairs, but they get a little..." I trailed off, having a hard time putting my feelings into words.

"Intense? I know what you mean. I'm taking that, too. I have it after lunch. You'd think people would be all sleepy and disinterested after eating lunch, but nope. Instead, they're all keyed up and passionate. Must be the subject matter. Parahumans and all."

I nodded. "Exactly. So maybe Computer One is my favorite. What's yours?"

"Well, it's not math. I suck at it. Probably English." He sounded glum as he talked.

I was surprised. "Really? You seem like a pretty smart guy."

Chris shrugged. "Maybe. But I've got this weird learning thing when it comes to math. Makes it really hard for me." He looked a little surprised at himself for admitting it.

"Dyscalculia?"

His mouth gaped. "How did you know what's its called?"

I shrugged. "My mom used to teach English at the local college and she always made sure I was more than literate. That was before she..." I trailed off, not wanting to talk about my mom's death. I'd felt the pressure of confiding something in return, but now was regretting it. "Anyway, I like English, too."

Fortunately, Chris picked up on my reluctance to further share. He nodded in lieu of replying. An awkward silence fell.

Just then, our food arrived and I was saved from further talking. Chris cut our enormous burger in half while I divvied up the fries and rings. While he went ahead and took a bite, I opened my half of the burger up and liberally salted the patty and lettuce. I could tell that Chris thought the amount I was using was a bit excessive, which was probably only reinforced when I did the same with the fries and rings, after first dousing them with ketchup. He didn't say anything, though, and we ate in silence for a few minutes.

Our mutual silence made the ringing of the bell at the front door surprisingly loud. A moment later, I felt a presence alongside me, as if someone was brushing against me. It made the hairs stand up on my arms. Then someone slid into the booth next to me. "Hey, Chris."

I turned my head to see a younger girl with dark blonde hair sitting next to me wearing an impudent smile. It was weird how intensely I could feel her presence. Focusing my ability, I could see just how strong her bio-electric field was. It blazed and pulsed under the surface of her skin, definitely stronger than the average. Weird. I'd met a few people with fields like that so far, so it wasn't that unusual. But still... weird.

I turned back to see Chris feebly waving, looking tense. "Missy. What are you doing here? Should you be out on your own?"

She shrugged. "I'm meeting some of the others here. Plus, I'm not six. Mind if I have a fry?" Missy was eyeing my fries as she asked, Chris having already devoured his.

Chris shrugged. "Those aren't mine. Maybe you should ask Taylor."

Missy smiled at me. "Nice to meet you, Taylor. I'm Missy. Can I have a fry?"

I feebly nodded. "Ahh... sure. Go ahead."

Missy enthusiastically grabbed a fry and stuffed it into her mouth. She immediately started coughing and got up out of the booth. She disappeared for a minute, then came back with a glass of water. She took a long drink. Sputtering slightly, she demanded, "What's up with all of the salt? That was terrible!"

I shrugged and ate another fry myself. I didn't see the problem. They tasted fine to me. I ate another as Missy watched me with horrified fascination. I was wondering about something. "How do the two of you know each other? Do you go to Arcadia, Missy?"

Chris gave the girl an odd look as she said, "Not until next year. I don't know Chris from school. He, ah, tutored me before. In English."

It was weird seeing him relax as Missy explained things. I was definitely getting an odd vibe from the two of them. I started as I noticed a group of boys that must have come in when the bell rang earlier were now standing next to our booth. I recognized Dennis, who I'd already met. I didn't know any of the others. I registered a tall Hispanic, an extremely muscular African-American, and lastly, a handsome brunette with incredible eyelashes. They were all staring at me and I was feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Plus, there was something just a bit off about their bio-electric fields. I wasn't sure what it was, but it almost felt like they were rubbing up against me, making every hair on my body stand up. Weird.

"So, Chris, this why you couldn't meet us after school? Got a hot date?" It was Dennis speaking, a smirk on his lips.

I was starting to not like him even as the Hispanic boy said, "Back off, Dennis. Going to introduce us, Chris?"

Chris dutifully made the introductions, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. "Taylor, this is Carlos, Dennis, Teddy, and Dean. Guys, this is Taylor."

I got a chorus of "Nice to meet you's" and responded appropriately. But I was definitely ready to get out of there. I did have other things to do. So when they suggested getting a bigger booth, I made my getaway and headed out after making hasty goodbyes.

I hated leaving Chris with the check, but I was hoping to start on a solution for my metal clothing problem today. After reading about Parian yesterday, I was hoping she would be able to help me with the problem of making my clothing. Even if she couldn't, she might be able to suggest someone who could.

I had my mask and a couple of samples of material with me, about a square yard total. I also was wearing a hoodie that I hoped would mostly conceal the mask once I put it one. Hopefully, between the two of them, it would sufficiently hide my identity. Just before I reached her shop, I stepped into an alley, putting on the mask and raising the hoodie so that it was hard to even tell I was wearing one. Keeping my head down, I walked over to her front door, then stepped through.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but the interior was disappointingly normal. There were a lot of pictures of large animated stuffed animals as well as college banners and mascots. Then I turned around and came face to face with the proprietor.

Parian's costume was a bit odd, consisting of a frock-like dress, a doll's mask, and a wig of golden curls. It didn't go with her darker skin, that showed a probable Middle-Eastern ethnicity. However, I wasn't here to judge.

"Hello, my name is Parian. Can I help you with something?" Parian's voice was pleasant, but again had a hint of the Middle-East in it. She also sounded just a little nervous, having spotted my mask just visible beneath my hoodie.

I spread my hands in a reassuring way as I nodded. "I hope so. I know that you can make all of these animated figures, but I was wondering if you were also able to make clothes as well."

Parian stilled. If I didn't know better, I'd have said I shocked her. "Why would you ask that? What have you heard?"

"Uh, nothing? I'm just trying to get some custom clothing made and I was hoping that even if you didn't know how, you could connect me with someone who did."

Parian relaxed, whatever I'd said to alarm her apparently forgiven. "Sure, I can make clothes. What exactly do you need?"

I shrugged off the backpack I was wearing and set in on the counter. Then I took out the smaller bag inside with the samples I'd brought. I dumped them out on the counter where they lay in a shimmer of gold and crimson.

The first sample I had used a gold metal flake paint that gave it a beautiful gleaming appearance. I wasn't sure I'd wear something made from it, but I wanted something flashy to show Parian. The second sample was a glimmering metallic red that shone brightly and was so beautiful that I knew I wanted something made from it, even if again I probably wouldn't wear it.

Parian grabbed the cloth up and immediately began to lay it out and smooth it down. She scolded, "You should never dump metallic cloth out like that. You can bend it and then it'll crease and be ruined."

Parian continued to stroke the cloth even after it was smoothed flat. She breathed, "Where did you get this?"

My reply was noncommittal. "I made it."

She gave me a disbelieving glance, so I picked up the red piece, wadded it up to her dismayed cry, then tossed it back to her. Parian smoothed it back, seemingly unable to believe that it was undamaged after that.

"How the hell isn't this ruined?"

I shrugged. "It's really tough. That's part of the problem. I want clothing made from metallic cloth like this, but no regular seamstress would even be able to cut it."

Using a pair of sheers from the table behind her, Parian tried to cut it, but she had no better luck. "Huh. So you can cut it? Show me."

I used my ability to levitate the piece of gold cloth, the cut it in half. Parian had gone completely still as I worked. She watched me warily while I worked. When I was done, she asked, "Can you rejoin the pieces afterward, as if you were sewing it up?"

"Sure." I then reattached the cloth, though it was a lot harder than cutting it had been. I was sweating slightly by the time I tossed the result back to Parian, who examined it carefully. Discreetly, I bled off some heat in order to cool off.

She declared, "The seam is perfect. Look, I can help you with this, but you are going to have to do all of the actual cutting and sewing using a pattern I'll provide. I'll measure you and cut out patterns that you'll match with cut out pieces of this cloth. Then I'll show you how to attach them together to make clothes, as well as how to attach zippers, buttons, and the like."

Suddenly nervous, I asked, "Is this going to be expensive? I don't have a lot of money right now." Dad hadn't significantly increased my allowance, putting most of the settlement we'd received away for my college fund after paying off the house. It was hard to argue, when he had my well-being in mind. Plus I had several ideas for getting money once I debuted as a cape.

Parian tapped her mask with one index finger in a considering way. "How about this? For every two outfits we make you, we'll make one for me with material colored to my specifications."

Anything where money didn't exchange hands sounded great to me. I nodded in agreement. "When can we start?"

"When will you have more material made?"

"I have the gold, red, brown, and black already made. About five square yards of each."

She looked startled again. "That's more than enough to start. What all colors can you do?"

I took out a can of metal flake paint and showed it to her. "Any color that these come in. I think there's about eighty colors. They have a website online or you can buy them in a couple of different specialty paint shops here in Brockton Bay."

Parian took the can from me and stared at it a moment. "That'll work. I do need to bring up another point which I'm not sure that you considered."

"Ahh... what's that?"

Fingering the beautiful golden mesh, she hesitated. Finally, she said, "Look, if we're the only two people who have these clothes, and we run into each other, we'll both know who the other is. Understand?"

I felt crushed. How could I have not considered that? I refused to cut myself any slack because I had so much on my plate with all that I was doing each and every day. Quietly, I admitted, "I hadn't thought of that."

Parian nodded. "I thought not." She hesitated a moment, then said, "I do have a pretty good solution, though. I don't know if you'd be interested in selling any of the cloth to make clothes for other people, but I am pretty sure there would be a good market for it. I can design the clothes while you make them using your metal cloth. We can split the profits."

I nodded, more than a little interested. It actually sounded like something that I could do. I could definitely use the money. "So you think we could make money doing this?"

Parian nodded. "Definitely. People pay through the nose for Parahuman-made items. It's one of the reasons I can charge what I do for my services. How much does it cost you to make the cloth? We can take that off the top, then split the rest."

I hesitated. "Actually, it's just the cost of the paint. I have a source for the metal that is basically free.″

Parian shook her head in disbelief. "That is such utter bullshit, but lucky for us. So we can take the cost of the paint from the clothing, then split the remainder of the profit. Wow, this could actually mean some really good money.″

Curious, I asked, ″How much would you sell an outfit made from the metal cloth for?″

″I'd price the tops from ten to thirty thousand, depending upon the design. Pants and skirts would be about fifteen to forty. A dress made from it? I would start at twenty-five thousand, then go up from there."

It was a good thing that Parian couldn't see my face as my jaw had fallen nearly to the floor. ″Seriously? Why would someone pay that much for clothes?"

"I am completely serious. Look, ahh..."

"Railgun," I supplied.

Parian looked taken aback for a second, then nodded warily. "Look, Railgun, how much do you think haute couture outfits cost?"

Since I didn't have the slight idea, I just shrugged. Parian nodded in satisfaction. "That's what I thought. The top four design houses in France charge prices like twenty-five thousand dollars for a simple silk dress. For an embellished ball gown, four to five times that or more. The clothes are made from the most expensive materials and are all completely hand-made; hand stitched, hand finished and hand embellished. Sound familiar?"

I nodded dumbly. "I had no idea."

"I don't claim that my designs are equal to Dior, Chanel, or La Croix, but I do understand how to design clothes. Your material and workmanship will make up the difference. Eventually, once we build our reputation, we may charge even more for the clothes. Look, do you understand all of this?"

"Yes." Then I had a thought. "Does it matter that the clothes are also bulletproof?"

"They're what?" Parian's body language showed her shock, her hands palms up in surprise.

"Uh.. bulletproof? I mean, the material is really tough. I don't know that it would survive a armor-piercing round from a cannon or something, but rifles and handguns aren't going to hurt it."

Shaking her head, Parian muttered, "Bulletproof."

After a moment, she regained her composure. "Okay, we need to find out just how tough this stuff is. I can send in a sample to the PRT for testing. And let them know that I'm available to make costumes for their capes for prices starting at half a million dollars per costume."

"Isn't that too much? I mean, who would pay that?"

"A lot of heroes would pay that. Or the Protectorate for them. Considering what they pay for costumes that don't provide nearly as much protection, they would probably consider them a bargain."

″Completely. So what do you think?″

I nodded. ″Sure. I mean, I agree.″

Parian held out her hand to shake. "Then it's a deal. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Railgun"

~~~Railgun~~~

Sabah watched the girl leave her shop. Railgun. It was bit menacing as far as cape names went, she thought. But if the girl who she was going to be working with wanted to use it, who was she to argue?

She still couldn't believe the deal that she had just made with the girl. Clothes made from that metal cloth Railgun made would sell like hot cakes to the rich and famous. It was incredibly beautiful and equally durable, enough so that someone could wear it to protect themselves from bullets. Those qualities added value, as did overall feel of it, heavy, but not so heavy it would be wear down the wearer.

The last thing that Sabah had expected when she opened her shop today was to have something like this drop into her lap. Sometimes, though, fate, or kismet, or whatever you wanted to call it intervened upon a person's behalf.

The money from the sale of the clothing would easily pay for her schooling, despite the fact that the fashion college Sabah went to wasn't exactly cheap. Even better, she'd be able to use the knowledge she was gaining there and apply it to the real world of design for these clothes.

A drawback, though, was that she wasn't one hundred percent sure that Railgun could be trusted. Sabah could tell the girl was young, but that didn't always matter when it came to Parahumans. Some of the youngest could be incredibly vicious. Her naivety, on the other hand, spoke to her likely not planning any kind of double-cross, as she had apparently not given any thought to how information could be used against her. Still, naïve didn't mean reliable.

Until she knew one way or another, Sabah would keep a close eye on the girl. If Railgun was genuine, she'd use their partnership to make money for them both. Maybe even keep an eye on the other girl as she probably needed someone to help her navigate the dangers of being a rogue Parahuman.

~~~Railgun~~~

Over the next couple of weeks I was incredible busy between the clothing, my training, catching up in school, and working on my armor. Plus I had hung out with Chris a few more times. It was turning out more friends than anything romantic, which I was actually glad about as he didn't exactly bowl me over in that way.

I had seen the group that had shown up at Fugly Bob's around school, minus Missy of course, but hadn't made any real effort to get to know them. They seemed okay, even Dennis, who was more of a smart ass than any kind of real bully. But none of them had shown up again during any of the times that Chris and I had hung out, leading me to wonder if he'd said anything to them.

I had also seen a couple of minor celebrities recently at Arcadia. Amy and Victoria Dallon, Panacea and Glory Girl respectively, had been just walking down the hall, probably going to class. It was a bit surreal to see two members of New Wave in my school, but the rest of the kids around me just took it in stride. Not wanting to stand out, I made sure not to gawk.

I didn't have any classes with them as they were a year ahead of me, but that was probably for the best. I could imagine meeting them and acting like a complete fan girl in front of them. I'd probably die of embarrassment.

Parian and I had finished several outfits. She had actually talked me into more than the mostly utilitarian clothing that I had originally planned for myself. I had just wanted to be able to fly in my clothing. I hadn't known well designed clothes could make even me look good as it flattered my too slender body. But Parian had said that whatever I wore, in school or out, would be an advertisement for the new clothing, so I needed to look great.

Parian had also suggested not telling anyone that the clothing was mine. Instead, I would be wearing the outfits as a kind of walking billboard for the clothing line she was starting. If anyone asked why I was chosen, I was to tell them that usually I was a lowly assistant, toiling in the back, doing whatever I was told. Those duties had been expanded now to wearing the outfits out and about. It would be a great cover for why I was at the store as well as how I could afford the clothing.

Parian had also mentioned letting others know that the clothing would be available for rent, although anyone doing so would be required to take out an insurance policy in case of the outfit being lost. The prices she'd suggested for renting a simple outfit, pants and a top, or a skirt and a top, for just one day was several times what I would have considered paying for an outfit in the first place.

Tomorrow, I was going to wear a pair of metallic black pants in a duller shade with a shimmering crimson top that Parian had persuaded me I would look great in. I was terrified, but at the same time I did wonder what Chris or Dean might think of me in it.

It was nice playing dress up with Parian, but I wouldn't let it distract me from my mission. I had another training session tonight and should finish up my armor as well. I had set April second as a hard date for my debut. It would have been April first, but I didn't want the obvious ramifications of becoming a joke if something went wrong.

~~~Railgun~~~

I hesitated a moment, then spoke up, "Carla? Do you have a second?"

The short busty brunette girl who wore glasses that would have given my prescription a run for its money before I'd developed my Othersight, turned to look at me. "Yeah? What's up?"

"My name is Taylor Hebert. Mr Brooks said that you would be a good person to help me with tutoring in chemistry. Do you have a second to talk about it?"

Carla eyed me a second, then nodded. Crisply, she said, "Sure. Come on over and sit down with me."

We were in the school library, which wasn't all that different from Winslow's. Mainly the books just appeared to be newer and it had a lot more electronic books and periodicals.

I took a seat across from Carla and looked at her. Wondering where to begin, I finally said, "My chemistry grades are suffering right now. I talked to Mr Brooks about the best way to bring them up and he suggested going with the in school tutoring program. Then he gave me your name."

Carla nodded. "Yeah. I've been doing it for the last two years. It's a great way to get a letter without having to play actual sports or an instrument. Here's the deal, though. I don't do slackers. So since I get to choose who I actually tutor in my limited time, what's your deal?"

I took a deep breath and released it. "I transferred recently from Winslow. It turns out that Arcadia and Winslow aren't at the same levels in all classes. So while I am doing fine in English, Math, and Computer, and holding my own in Parahuman Affairs, chemistry is still kicking my ass. So that's why I need your help."

For the first time, a warm smile stole over Carla's face. "Hey, no worries. That's a legit reason if I ever heard one. Winslow sucks ass from everything that I've heard so I completely understand. So when do you want to meet up? I can do afternoons after three until five on Mondays and Wednesdays or Tuesday and Thursday mornings before class, starting at six thirty."

I wasn't sure how I felt about Carla's succinct summation of Winslow. While I mostly agreed, it wasn't too cool that everyone else seemed to assume that someone couldn't get a good education there. So long as bullies didn't bother you that is.

"I actually run in the mornings, so I guess Monday and Wednesday afternoon."

Carla gave me a critical glance. "Yeah, you look like you run. I mean, you look in shape. You should try out for the track team. Yeah, so Mondays and Wednesdays then. If you want, we can start this Wednesday."

"Sure, that will be fine. Thanks very much."

"No worries. See you Wednesday in the library."

~~~Railgun~~~

I scrambled up the side of the ship, climbing effortlessly, a combination of my power and general fitness allowing me to move so much more quickly than before. I had upped my morning run a while ago using the time I had devoted to calisthenics as soon as I realized that climbing was even better at building my body's strength and endurance that regular exercises. I was currently trying to climb at least thirty minutes a day.

I had even done a little climbing in the mornings around abandoned buildings when I was able to ascertain no one was nearby. While harder than the ship, it was not nearly as hard as at my house, as the metal beams within were easy to grasp with the electromagnetic energy.

Finishing up, I used my power to cool myself off, allowing it to bleed heat off from my body. That had turned out to be a lot more useful as I got better at using my power. I mean, I had at least the gestation of a lot of ideas, but this one was eminently practical. I could keep myself warm in winter through a kind of induction and cool in summer by bleeding off heat through radiation.

I especially liked it as it was practical and solved a potential problem with my armor as I hadn't been sure exactly how I was going to keep cool in a fight. The last thing I wanted was to pass out from heat stroke, a very real possibility when wearing a few hundred pounds of metal on a hot day.

I could even do it while exercising, but actually preferred to break a sweat as it made me feel I was accomplishing something. Finished cooling off, I set out for home, a pleasant warmth suffusing my muscles as I now lightly heated them just enough to stay pliant. Tomorrow was another school day and I was going to be wearing something that just thinking about had me on edge.

~~~Railgun~~~

Well, I had worn it. It being the outfit that I'd promised Parian I would. Now I was about to die of embarrassment as it seemed the entirety of the student body was talking about me and what I was wearing. It probably was only a fraction of the students doing so, but that was how it felt to me. It wasn't even as if the top was particularly daring. The neckline was discrete and didn't show more than a T-shirt. It did show off a sliver of my stomach, which at least was toned and flat from all of the exercise I'd been doing for the past few months. Still, that wasn't why I was getting so many looks as there were a lot of girls dressed far more daring.

The problem was the color. The bright shimmering crimson hadn't seemed so bad in Parian's shop, surrounded by other equally bright colors. There, it had faded into the whole, no better or worse than the others. When I'd gotten it home, I'd had second thoughts, seeing it in my bedroom. At the brightly lit school, it made me look like a peacock among a flock of lesser birds, and the center of attention. I should have worn the brown or the gray top, I thought as my eyes slid past yet another speculative look, this one belonging to one of the girls in my Parahuman Affairs Class.

"Hey, Taylor, cool outfit."

I turned at the familiar voice. "Hey, Carla, how's it going?"

She gave me a friendly grin. "It's going good. Where did you get that top? And those pants?"

I began the explanation that I had practiced in front of the mirror several times, "I work at Parian's shop over on the corner of Broadway and main. I mostly work in the back, hauling stuff around, but since she started a line of designer clothes, she wants me to wear them out and about. Kinda a walking billboard. She's going to be selling and renting them starting on April fifteeth."

Carla's eyes lit up. "Ooohh, made by a Parahuman, huh? That is pretty damn cool. Pricey, though, I bet."

I nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. I did mention you can rent them, though, right?"

"Cool beans. Hey, did you get that assignment for Mr Brooks done?"

"Uh? Oh, yeah. It's done. It wasn't all that hard, either."

She looked surprised. "Really? I always thought that calculating moles was pretty hard. At least for most people. I'm not surprised, though. It's easy to tell that you're pretty smart."

"Uh, thanks?"

Carla laughed. "See you at three in the library."

Feebly, I muttered, "See you then."

At least it was finally lunch time, although I'd have to walk through the entire cafeteria wearing this. I really longed for a jacket at that moment or even my hoodie. But I thought the new Taylor could wear something like this without hiding. At least, that's what I had told myself when getting ready this morning. Now I was rethinking that decision.

I headed to my usual table that I shared with Chris, only to find several of his friends there as well. I murmured a greeting to them all as I sat across from him, putting my head down and quietly eating my lunch. I kept feeling distracted, though, as if the hairs on my arm were standing up.

"Taylor, you look great in that. You should wear bright colors more often."

Surprisingly, it wasn't Chris who said it, but rather Dean, who gave me a kind smile as I looked up. It looked like Chris agreed, though, as he kept sneaking looks at me from across the table.

"Uh, thanks. I almost didn't wear it, but I'm trying to be more bold these days." I wasn't sure why I said that, but it might have been the accepting expressions on the faces of the boys around me. Even Dennis had a smile on his face, even if it was paired with an odd expression in his eyes, as if he were seeing me for the first time.

Then I looked up and froze as a certain blonde Parahuman walked up and stood looking down at our table, greeting everyone with a quick, "Hey." A quick glance at her and her companion showed me their bio-electric fields were brighter than most. But then, everyone at the table was like that, except for Carlos, who had one of the dimmest fields I'd ever seen. It was beyond weird.

Dean spun in place, saying, "Vicky, what are you doing here? I thought you had a project due that you wanted to finish."

Before Victoria Dallon, aka Glory Girl, could get a word out, a voice to her side spoke, "She put it off because she wanted to check out the new girl's outfit."

Victoria shrugged as she stared at me, or more likely, at my top. I was blushing from the hairline to my neckline as everyone eyed my outfit. I shifted uncomfortably as if to keep it from clinging to me so well.

"So sue me. She has on the most interesting thing that I've seen anyone wear to school yet this year." She pointed directly at me as she said it. I could feel my face getting hot as everyone's attention focused n me.

"So, new girl, where did you get that great metallic top?"

Flummoxed, my carefully rehearsed speech went completely out of my head. I did manage to get out, "Parian."

Victoria pounced on my words. "Parian? The doll girl downtown? What does she have to do with it?"

Dean intervened at this point. "Taylor, this is Victoria, a tactless girl I know. Victoria, this is Taylor, who is new to Arcadia, so we're all trying to make her feel welcome." He gestured in the general direction of Victoria's sister. "Behind her is Amy. Amy, Taylor. Taylor, Amy."

Pulling up chairs for her and her sister, Victoria grumbled, "Fine." In an overly sweet voice, she said, "Hello, Taylor. It's nice to meet you."

If my face had been hot before, it was incandescent now. I caught myself unconsciously using my powers to cool down and stopped, worried I'd get caught with another Parahuman present. It was enough, however, to help me regain my composure. I managed to get out, "It's nice to meet you, too. And you... ahh... Amy. But I already knew who you both were."

Dennis grinned. "The whole school knows who she is." It was said in a fairly sarcastic tone. His follow up was a lot kinder. "And the wonderful Amy Dallon."

It was Amy's turn to look embarrassed as everyone looked at her. She mumbled, "Thanks, Dennis." In a clearer tone, she said, "It's nice to meet you, Taylor. Welcome to Arcadia."

It seemed that at least one person in this group was as shy as I was. Amy was also another person who had a brighter bio-electric field that average, practically alight in my vision. I muttered, "Thanks."

It was weird how well everyone got along with the two famous Parahumans who went to our school. I would have thought they would have been at least a little intimidated, but it sure didn't seem that way. And what was that feeling almost touching my skin? I started to rub my arms, but stopped myself.

"Okay, now that the social niceties have been satisfied, where did you get that shirt, Taylor? And those pants, too." Victoria didn't seem like she was going to be distracted from her goal.

I decided to stick to the truth, not wanting to seem like I was hiding something. "I got them from Parian.."

Victoria looked faintly surprised. "Parian? When did she start making clothes?"

My voice was low as I said, "She's starting a new line of designer clothing. Tops, pants, and dresses."

Victoria's look turned speculative. "Parian was able to make those? She must know more than just making big stuffed toys and stuff, because that top is haute couture. It looks like something from one of the big designers. And that material? It's beautiful."

I was blushing again. "Thank you."

"Can I touch it?"

I held out my arm to her and she fingered the material of one of the three quarter length sleeves. A second later, Victoria breathed, "Fantastic. I have to talk to this girl. Are the pants the same?"

I shrugged. "Pretty much. Not quite as soft. They have to be a little more durable." Of course, I was ignoring the fact that both were more than durable, being pretty much bullet proof.

Victoria turned to her sister. "What do you think, Ames? Should I contact Parian? Wouldn't you just love something like that?"

Amy looked torn. She demurred, "I couldn't wear something like that. It's a little bright."

"There are similar tops in other colors," I offered, then wished I hadn't as Victoria looked more determined. Of course, she would likely look less so when I told her she'd have to wait to buy them. "Victoria, she's going to be selling them at her shop starting April fifteenth. You'll be able to rent them as well."

Briefly, Victoria looked upset, then gave me a frankly assessing look. "Huh. Well that sucks."

"Why does that suck?" Amy asked, looking puzzled.

The blonde explained, "It means that the clothes are going to cost the earth. So only rich people are going to be able to actually afford to own anything."

Feebly, I said, "You can rent them."

Victoria waved her hand. "Yeah, for what? A couple of hundred dollars for one night? No thank you."

I had a sudden thought. "Maybe she'd make the same deal she made with me?"

Looking curious, Victoria asked, "What's that?"

"I don't actually own these. I usually work there in the back of her shop, but Parian asked me to wear these around as a kind of walking billboard. She might do the same with you."

Looking excited, Victoria agreed. "Hell yes, I would do that." She gave me a critical glance. "You know, Taylor, if you weren't so skinny, I could try on that outfit you have on now."

Dean spoke then, "Vick, that's uncalled for." He really was a nice guy and seemed ready to defend anyone.

Victoria protested, "I wasn't insulting her. Taylor looks great in that outfit even if she's skinny. But I would never fit in her clothes. I'm too busty. Am I right?" She stuck out her chest to emphasize her point.

I didn't feel insulted, but again I was the center of attention. Plus, having my chest compared to Victoria's made me feel like a ten year old boy. Still, it wasn't that big of a deal since I knew I would never really be able to compare myself to the blonde girl looks wise. Regardless, I was going to be so glad when lunch was over. "Uh, sure."

"So, did you guys hear that there's going to be a dance in a couple of weeks? Amy and I thinking about going solo, but I hear Brian has a date. Anyone else coupling up?"

As all eyes turned towards me and Chris I decided that I was going to be really happy when lunch was over. Between the conversation and the skin-crawling sensation I was getting, I don't think I'd been that uncomfortable in months.

~~~Railgun~~~

"So, how did it feel meeting Queen Victoria and her entourage?"

I looked up. "Excuse me?"

Carla made an offhand gesture. "You know what I mean. Victoria Dallon and her sister Amy."

"It was fine. I guess. She was nice, although maybe a little..."

"Pushy? Yeah, I get it. Girl's got a rep around the school. Bit of a hothead, so watch out. Whatever you do, don't make any moves on Dean or she'll kick your ass."

I squeaked, "She beat someone up for flirting with her boyfriend?"

Carla laughed. "No, dumbass. But she did kinda threaten her. Although maybe that was more that weird emotional projection thing she has going. You either love her or fear her. Let me tell you, that day, Lindsay Freeman feared her."

"Ooookay..."

As it turned out, Carla was a bit of a gossip and very much tuned into the local network. She was also the opposite of malevolent in the gossip she passed on, most of it being silly or just a little embarrassing. Cue the next bit about Victoria Dallon.

"She's okay, actually. I mean, for someone who's also a cape. And ridiculously beautiful. I mean, who wears a tiara anyway?"

I couldn't help returning the cheeky grin she sent my way. I was beginning to think we were becoming friends. Which was nice, because as good a friend as Chris was becoming, having someone who was a girl as a friend filled a deeper void inside of me.

Judiciously, I said, "Well, I can't comment on the tiara. I haven't had one since I was eight, but I'm not really against them. If I had to question any of her fashion choices, it would be wearing a skirt when you're a flying cape. I mean, if someone looked up my skirt while I was flying, I would die."

Sharing a look, we both cackled helplessly. Then we got a 'shh' from the librarian. I guess we were getting a little loud. Still, it was nice to talk like this to another girl.

~~~Railgun~~~

I was working out again, this time at home, trying to increase my ability to see into the electromagnetic spectrum. I was hoping to increase my range of seeing the bio-electric fields of people. That would have all sorts of advantages for scouting out villains, as well as helping to find victims of crimes. The only problem was that bio-electric fields were faint and not easily seen at a distance. Well, other than a few people, but even those had their ebbs and flows. Around our house, I was able to see everyone in the various nearby homes, even through the wooden walls of their houses.

I noticed two fields that seemed to be mingling, which was pretty weird. When I realized what I was seeing, I felt myself blush. There was only one thing that they could be doing, so I quickly turned away in another direction. Now I was staring out towards the front of our house. I started trying to see past the houses across the street and into the next block.

I squinted as hard as I could, but it didn't make any difference. It wasn't having any effect. Sighing, I decided to switch to my Othersight.

Like my ability to see electric fields, both normal and bio-electric, my Othersight seemed to have nothing to do with my actual eyes. Even when I blinked, I still saw the same stuff, so my vision was never interrupted.

I could also see past stuff other than just my eyelids. Which I did now, trying to look past the walls of my room. It took a moment, but eventually I pushed my vision out past the front of my house out into the neighborhood.

I looked out and thoroughly examined all of the houses of my neighbors, occasionally even looking past the surface and into their homes. I was very careful not to do that on the house behind me where a couple of my neighbors were doing... that.

Pulling it back, I next tried increase the arc of my vision. I still needed to measure just how far it was. I knew it was over a hundred and eighty degrees, but not exactly how much over. Try as I might, I couldn't make it increase. Instead, it remained exactly the same as when I first did it. Maybe my brain just couldn't process more and it was protecting me from some kind of overload. Slowly turning my head, still with my eyes closed, I looked around my room.

The level of detail still freaked me out. I could see textures on everything I looked at. The walls, my comforter, even the small desk in the corner. All of them were littered with tiny imperfections that were visible to me now. I stared at the carpet at my feet, then at the light over my head. It remained one of the most frightening and exhilarating things I'd ever experienced.

Slowly, I allowed the feeling to fade. Unlike when I had first tried it all those weeks ago, it wasn't hard to get it to stop. I got into bed, the smile on my face so wide it almost hurt.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 6*: Arc 2: Aiming—201

Arc 2: Aiming—2.01

I put my head in my hands. I'd been considering names again. I'd reconsidered using Railgun, both because it gave away one of my deadliest attacks and because, ultimately, it misrepresented my powers.

I was so much more than a glorified piece of artillery. At first, I'd fallen in love with my ability to fire projectiles, but in the end, it wasn't as useful as I would have hoped. Too powerful, too deadly, to be used on a day to day basis. If nothing else, the last few weeks' practice in the Ship Graveyard had shown me that. Killing someone while proclaiming yourself to be a hero was no joke. Besides, everything I could do, from moving and shaping metal, to seeing people through walls, to manipulating one of the primary forces in the universe, cried out to be described to the world.

Unfortunately, I didn't have that amazingly descriptive pronoun currently available. I was still searching for it. Until then, I was leaning towards Electra. Or maybe Surge.

I stepped into Parian's shop after masking up, and automatically locked the door behind me, turning the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Giving her a wave, I walked back to the rear area where she actually made her items, everything from clothing to giant animals. Parian looked up with a smile.

"Hello, Railgun, what can I do for you today?"

I felt my face heat. "Uh, actually, I'm reconsidering that name. So, uh, could you call me Electra? At least for now. I looked it up and it wasn't taken by anyone."

I couldn't see her face behind her mask, but I got the impression she was amused. At least she didn't laugh at me over what I'd just told her. "Sure thing, Electra."

I hesitated about the next bit, but finally got out. "I've got some news for you. Victoria Dallon... err... that's Glory Girl, saw the top and pants I wore to school the other day. I told her who made them and that she would have to wait until April fifteenth to buy or rent anything. Then I had a great idea."

There was interest in Parian's voice as she asked, "What was you idea?"

I tried not to sound too enthusiastic as I said, "I mentioned that you might be willing to give her the same deal as me if she were willing to wear your outfits while out. So she would be a kind of advertisement for your apparel line."

Slightly reprovingly, Parian said, "Our apparel line. That's a great idea, by the way. Victoria Dallon wearing our clothes will lend them instant credibility. Plus, since she's so beautiful and popular, anything that she does is news. I can guarantee you that the first time she wears one of our outfits it will be all over the gossip columns by the next day. I am actually stoked to have her come in now. Why don't you ask her to come by the store tomorrow and I'll see if I can fit her with something from our existing stock. If not, I'll get her measurements and you can make her something when you have time."

"Sure. I can do that."

"Great. It saves me from having to go by and try to catch her there myself. Plus, they frown on costumed Parahumans, even rogues, making school visits. It would be different if I was a member of the Protectorate."

I nodded as that made sense. It occurred to me that if Parian hung around my school at all, she would be able to identify me if I wore more of the clothes before their debut date. Then again, I didn't think Parian would do that. Nothing that I had discovered about her since we'd decided to go into business together suggested that she was anything but a Parahuman trying to make money off of her skills.

Plus, if I did run into her outside of the store while she was dressed as a civilian, I would immediately know who she was from her own bio-electric field. I hadn't told her as I didn't think that she would take to kindly to that little factoid, but it wasn't as if I could shut the vision off. Especially when it came to certain people, those that shone just a bit brighter than the average.

Parian was one of those with a slightly brighter bio-electric field, as was Chris and some of his friends, and I could recognize them easily, even through walls and out to my maximum distance. Because while parts of their fields flared and fluctuated, probably according to things as diverse as what they ate the day before to whether they were having their period (if they were girls), there was a certain consistency that underlay it all. That was what I had come to recognize. Almost like fingerprints in a way, each unique to that individual.

I'd briefly considered that the people I was seeing with the brighter fields were Parahumans as Parian, Amy, and Victoria all shared that characteristic, but that didn't really compute. After all, Greg Veder had been one of the people with a very bright field, coruscating chaotically as he went about doing his day to day activities. No one would be able to convince me that he was a Parahuman.

Recognizing people through seeing their bio-electric fields was one of the things that actually concerned me about my power. While I still couldn't see behind me as my vision still stubbornly refused to extend beyond an arc of about two hundred and twenty degrees, I would definitely recognize anyone in front of me. In costume or out, I'd know them again. Especially since I didn't seem to be able to forget someone I saw that way. For some reason, it seemed imprinted on my brain.

It was yet another oddity of having a power like mine. The more I explored it, the more questions I had and the more I didn't understand either the diversity or the limitations I'd encountered. Still, I had a feeling that I was going to find a lot more uses for it before I was done. Then my thoughts were interrupted as Parian spoke again.

"Did you have time to work on outfits today? I have patterns for that top with the sweetheart neckline in all sizes now."

I considered, then decided why not? "Sure. I have somewhere to be later, but I can spare a couple of hours, if that would work"

If she was disappointed, her mask concealed it. "That's fine. With how fast you work, you could probably make twenty tops in that time."

I didn't know about that, but I would do my best. I headed over to the room in the shop that Parian had set aside for me and got to work.

Stepping back out of the shop after flipping the OPEN sign back over, I briefly considered what to do with the rest of my day. I was a little sweaty from making the clothing, but I'd used a portion of my power to keep myself cool, so I wasn't too bad. I had made tentative plans to eat dinner with Chris at Fugly Bob's, but I wasn't sure I wanted to. Especially since I thought he was going to ask me to the dance the Saturday after next.

Fortunately, the plans were tentative enough that if I didn't show up, I wouldn't have to feel bad. As suddenly as that, I made up my mind to instead go on a quick run down the Boardwalk and maybe back through one of the slightly more dangerous sections of town.

Heading home to change, I considered why I was doing this. It was a relatively safe excursion, going in the late afternoon, as there was unlikely to be much crime beyond a few prostitutes and drug dealers. I wanted to get at least a brief lay of the land before I started going out at night in costume. Which would hopefully be very soon.

Setting out at a steady pace allowed me plenty of time to think about things. I was using my new vision all of the time these days, which let me see cracks and uneven sections of sidewalk that might have tripped me up before. Now I was able to flow like water across that same space, hopefully at least somewhat graceful in appearance.

I didn't know if what I was doing would be classified as a Thinker or Breaker power. But whatever it was I was doing, it made for a much easier run, as I knew exactly where to place each foot to contact the surface beneath. I could see exactly how far away things were in relation to every part of my body, which was pretty neat.

As I ran, I moved my head from side to side, seeing the world in infinite detail around me. It was a heady feeling, although less so on my return trip through a seedier part of town.

If seeing the world in such detail around the nicer area of the Boardwalk had been wonderful, seeing crack whores and junkies the same way was infinitely less pleasant. I tried not to wince as I saw a drug deal go down, penny ante though the amount looked to be. I did wince as I passed a shadowy alley containing two figures, one on her knees in front of the other.

I actually turned my head in disgust as the alley wasn't remotely shadowy to me and the prostitute performing oral sex was doing so in clear view. This was the world of the Docks, once you got away from the Boardwalk. I couldn't say I was surprised as I'd known, at least second-hand, that it existed. Sickened, yes. Surprised, no.

It was also Merchant territory, the weakest of Brockton Bay's three gangs. These people were typical of the dregs that filled its ranks. Lost souls, defeated by life, they'd given up and immersed themselves in drugs, violence, and other sensations. I hated the idea of interacting with them, but they needed to dealt with, if regular citizens were to remain safe.

The thought of one of them breaking into my house and hurting me or my dad to get money to support their habit filled me with a quiet rage. Dad wasn't even safe at his job as they tried to shake down the Dockworker's Union on regular basis, even as recently as a few weeks ago. I couldn't quite find it within myself to pity them, maybe because I couldn't see myself descending to their depths under any situation.

It was here that I was going to strike first, I decided, even as I increased the cooling of my body, my sweat drying as my core heat bled off. As soon as my armor was ready, I was going to hit these people and hit them hard. I'd use my innate taser ability to weaken and terrorize them until they left. I'd destroy their drugs and steal their money to donate to others wherever I found it. After all, I didn't need it and refused the temptation. In the end, I vowed I would be stronger than them.

Smiling fiercely, I finished my run.

~~~Railgun~~~

"Taylor! Hey, Taylor!"

I turned towards the voice calling my name. It was Chris. He walked up to me smiling. Despite myself, I returned his smile. It was nice to have a friend. I just hoped that I wouldn't have to refuse to take our relationship any further than friendship. But it seemed Chris had other plans.

"What's up, Chris?"

He stopped in front of me. To my slowly growing horror, Chris scuffed his shoe as he refused to meet my eyes. He wasn't...

He was. "Taylor, can I ask you something?"

No. A thousand times no. "Uh, sure."

It came out all in a rush. "WouldyougotothedancewithmeonSaturday?"

Sadly, I could easily interpret it. Prepared to refuse, I hesitated. Would it be so wrong to go to one dance with a boy? I'd never have gotten that chance if I was still going to Winslow, of that I was sure. There I was a victim, or if not that, a freak. Here at Arcadia, I'd had a new start. Was the new Taylor going to be a coward and refuse to live? Refuse to experience new things?

Watching the nervous face of the boy facing me, I realized that I wasn't the only one battling fear and uncertainty. Chris felt the same way. Yet he'd summoned the courage to ask. Could I do anything less?

"I... Yes, Chris, I'll go to the dance with you. But as friends. Okay?" There. I'd set limits on the 'date.' It was up to him to accept or refuse them.

However, from the look on Chris' face, he didn't seem to mind them. He might be even be glad for them. He gave me a big smile. "Great! I'll... uh, pick you up at seven on Saturday. Okay?"

"Uh sure. Wait! How about we meet there?" I smiled. I wasn't anymore suave than him, so maybe this was the perfect kind of date.

"That's fine. We can meet up just inside. It's okay that we'll be going with Dennis, Brian, and Dean and their dates, right?"

Way to make an impression of a fish, Taylor, I silently told myself. I nodded, despite my misgivings. After all, what could go wrong?

~~~Railgun~~~

I stared at the armor that was finally finished. It was frankly beautiful in a terrifying war-like sort of a way. Gleaming black, every single piece looked like it had been made in some kind of high tech factory instead of by hand, lines and surface being perfectly crisp and smooth. Most factories couldn't have come close to how finely I had formed the edges and surfaces, their machining efforts falling far short of the perfection I demanded of myself

Wearing it, I was going to look like a cross between Boba Fett, a Spartan super-soldier, and a medieval knight. I only knew about the second because of the time I had spent researching ideas for my armor's appearance.

Being happy with my armor, I set myself to working out. Class had been a bit stressful, if only because I'd agreed to go with Chris to the dance in just over a week's time. I needed to work off some of that stress here.

This time I was heading over to a ship far to the north of my usual hide out. I needed to really push my ability to move around metal and so was here, in what was probably the most damaged ship out of all of those in the graveyard.

This ship had been nearly split in half by some collision and huge pieces of structural steel littered the hold. It was to one of those that I headed, an enormous piece of tangled metal that probably weighed thirty-five to forty tons. Setting my will to the task, I went to move it.

My power lashed out, bolts of electricity flying off as an after effect of the sheer magnitude of the forces I was attempting to harness. It wasn't easy, and sweat poured off my face as did I did so, but eventually I got it to move. I could literally feel a deep fatigue beginning in my body as if I was at the end of much longer run than usual.

As I moved the huge chunk of metal back and forth, struggling with its sheer inertia, I could feel the endless well that I was tapping with my power. As always, it wasn't even close to being drained, feeling as bottomless as ever. It always felt that way. When I struggled after a prolonged use of my power, it wasn't because the well was running dry, but rather that I was too exhausted to still draw from it. I hated being the weak link.

I didn't understand why that was. From all of my readings of other's powers, most did not work that way. I don't think that those who had powers that did not appear to have limits like Tinkers, for example, felt like this. On the other hand, most of those who did have physical powers usually got tired after a long period of using them with some exceptions, like Alexandria. Other powers, such as a Stranger's, did not appear to have any limit to how long they could go.

It was a mystery. But I was growing stronger, my mind and body more capable of tapping into that endless fount. As I grew stronger and more able to work with it, I started to wonder if I was tapping something like the Earth's own electromagnetic field. If so, it would be, for all intents and purposes, endless in supply.

Just the thought that this was the source of what I was doing, went far beyond intimidating. It was too much like one of the Endbringers, Behemoth, the dynakinetic who was capable of generating enormous bolts of lightning as well as intense radiation and other effects. Maybe I was being ridiculous, but anything smacking of them or their abilities would be enough to rattle anyone.

Still holding the massive metal piece up in the air, I took a running leap high onto the wall, using my ability to make myself as light as I could. I managed to jump nearly ten feet into the air, landing on the metal hull. I climbed around as quickly as I could while still moving the metal around. If I had been sweating before, I was doing so doubly now. I automatically shunted more power into cooling myself off, excess heat radiating off into my surroundings.

Shortly after that, I hit a wall. I tried to pick up up another piece of tangled steel that probably weighed only a ton or so, and it didn't move beyond trembling in place. Blood was thundering in my head as I tried to push myself past this point. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to continue moving along the wall while again attempting to move the second piece. I almost had it when dark spots began dancing in front of my vision and I had to release everything except my grip on the wall to keep from blacking out.

I was panting as I shakily climbed down. The spots were clearing, but I could feel a deep weariness that went beyond just the body. I could admit that those spots worried me. As had the brief blurring of my vision.

I had finally figured out that my eyesight hadn't improved because of any manipulation of my own bio-electric field. I hadn't changed anything about my body at all. Instead, it appeared that I was seeing without actually using my eyes at all. My... brain, maybe, was seeing directly into the electromagnetic spectrum itself. In this case, it was the spectrum visible to everyone. In others, I was pretty sure that with more practice, I'd be able to see a lot further in the infrared and ultraviolet frequencies.

However, regardless of the frequency I was using, to have it start to fail like that meant I was pushing myself past where I could maintain even my vision, which I considered more passive now than anything else.

In the end, none of it mattered. Tomorrow night, I was going out. I'd be Electra. I would kick ass and take names. And I'd start the process of cleaning up my city. I'd start to be a hero.

~~~Railgun~~~

As I silently hovered there, over a brightly lit cityscape beneath me, I felt like every single thing I'd had to deal with to get here was worth it. The bright lights of Brockton Bay looked like jewels beneath me. Even as I switched my vision over, it still looked wonderful, even if I could see too many things as clear as day now.

I slowly lowered myself, using electromagnetic energy to move my armored body in the direction I wanted. It took only a couple of minutes to find the same street that I'd seen a couple of days before. As I moved across the landscape, I kept an eye out for criminal behavior.

Not that I had to look very far. Almost immediately, I spotted what could only be a drug deal, as cash and small baggies exchanged hands. Even from a hundred feet above them, I could see the details as clear as crystal. My new vision was almost eerie. And sometimes disgusting as I spotted yet another couple engaged in sex.

I turned away from what was likely a prostitute and her john. Tonight I was after bigger game. I wanted to find at least a drug lab or central hub from where the drugs were being distributed. That would likely mean not just drugs, but cash. Robbing the Merchants of both would be far more damaging than just roughing up a few minor dealers.

So I needed to scout them. Get some kind of intelligence on locations. All of which would take time. Which was okay, as tonight, I had nothing but time.

All of which sounded great in my head, but turned out to be less than accurate, to say the least. Especially, as an hour later, I was bored to tears. That's when I saw another car making its way through the streets, incidentally stopping at each of the spots where someone I'd identified earlier as a dealer hung out.

Again, I saw the exchange of money for drugs, but this time, it was the dealers handing over the money and the passenger of the car giving out the drugs. A resupply operation. Had to be. Now I just had to follow them back to their headquarters.

From above, I stayed with the car as it traveled its route. It took another hour, but it finally seemed to be done resupplying drugs to the various pushers on the streets and was heading more or less in a straight direction.

The car stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse and two men got out, one carrying a black gym bag. As they went inside, I pushed to see the bio-electric fields of the people inhabiting it. There were at least thirty, including half a dozen who shone brighter than the others. I made a careful note of that and moved closer.

There were a few dirty windows, high up on a wall, and I hovered next to one. Unfortunately, it had been painted over. Thinking about it just a second, I freed the metal cable on my right hip, the one studded with pieces of razor sharp metal. Carefully, I lined it up so that one of the metal edges could cut into the glass. Inscribing a quick square out to the edges of the pane with the sharpened edge, I used my clinging power to grasp the glass and pull it towards me.

It came free from the frame with only the faintest of tinkling sounds. A quick move up and away let me deposit it upon the roof. Then I was back to the window, looking down and into the warehouse.

I saw a large open space, lit with a few fluorescent fixtures, that contained several long tables covered in piles of powders and pills that could only be drugs. Mostly naked women sat at the table, wearing only underwear and paper masks over their mouths, weighing and sorting those same drugs.

Another table held a stack of a dozen or so of empty black gym bags, as well as, hundreds of stacks of bills being carefully counted by six men. My eyebrows rose at the sight. There had to be at least a couple hundred thousand dollars down there. God only knew how much there was at a similar operation with of one of the other two more powerful gangs. I guess crime really did pay, especially if this was the third best gang in Brockton Bay. But not tonight.

I scanned the bio-electric fields of everyone present, knowing that I would recognize them again. Again, I saw the ones that stood out. Most of them were just ordinary. The exceptions, of course, were anything but. The first was a man, obviously a cape, wearing only the upper half of a mask, leaving the bottom half of his face bare. It was one of those cases where covering it all would have been better. His exposed skin was dark in color, with his lips so badly chapped it looked like cracks ran through them. His teeth were stained, and so dull in sheen, they looked like shelled nuts. The rest of his outfit was dark blue and skintight, but left a strip of flabby dark flesh exposed around his midsection. His bio-electric field burned bright, but was filled with streaks that looked darker, resembling the rest of the people in the room.

His companion looked no better. The girl, who couldn't be older than eighteen, was streaked with oil stains, some even in her dirty blonde hair. Her outfit consisted only of a skimpy white top without a bra and shorts so tiny that I was embarrassed for her. I didn't think she could look worse naked. Caked on makeup covered her face in lieu of a mask. Her bio-electric field resembled the man's, only worse, as the darker streaks were bigger.

Skidmark and Squealer. Had to be. Two of the Parahumans that ruled the Merchants. Skidmark was capable of creating areas and lines of unidirectional force, effectively warping space. He could pull people and objects in the direction he wanted, while making it difficult to move against the effect. Supposedly, he could layer the effect to make it even stronger. On the other hand, Squealer was a Tinker who specialized in building vehicles. From what I'd read, she went for size, augmentations and additions when she built her vehicles.

Case in point. Behind the couple was a monster truck with oversized tires, even for one of them, a huge, functional circular saw decorating the front in place of a grill, and some kind of energy cannon on the cab's roof. It was as ugly as sin, sitting there without doors or glass in the windows. More importantly, it looked poorly put together and tacky.

Other than the two of them, there were a dozen men scattered around the room armed with a variety of street weapons, from .38 specials to baseball bats studded with nails. I couldn't say I was impressed with my opposition.

Staring at the scene beneath me, I thought about my options. Despite their appearance and addictions, the two Parahumans were still the most dangerous out of everyone present. If I could take them out of the fight early, I should have no problems with the normal humans.

More than anything, I wished at that moment that my power let me become invisible so that I could sneak up on people. Sadly, it did not. So I decided to go for the next best thing.

I'd spotted a skylight at the top of the building, with glass or plastic panes. Neither would prove much of a hindrance to the weight of my armor. I silently rose three hundred feet into the air and hovered directly over that skylight. No one's bio-electric field was directly under it, although the two Parahumans were nearby. Perfect. I relaxed the grip my power had on my armor and allowed myself to plummet.

I was definitely traveling over a hundred miles per hour as I hit the skylight and covered the distance to the ground so quickly heads were just beginning to turn at the crashing noise. I bled off most of my velocity just feet above the ground, but still hit with a loud clang that echoed through the space. I'd landed less than twenty feet from the Parahuman duo, and didn't waste even a second in blasting the surrounding area with a taser blast equivalent to a hundred thousand volts.

Both of the Parahumans, and several of the guards went down spasming, caught in the effect. I released it after a few seconds, not wanting to put anyone in cardiac arrest. A bullet sparked off the armor of the plate covering my back. I turned and launched a blast in the direction from which it came, sending the man holding the gun into convulsions. Looking around, I saw that was eight down.

Several of the remaining guards, looking uncertain, started edging my way, holding mostly melee weapons. I released the metal whip on my left hip, this one studded with blunt metal weights, and sent it flying at the group.

Impacting, it broke several bones as it sent four men flying. I was easily able to manipulate the metal and send it into the remaining guards with a similar result. That took care of the guards. Now for everyone else.

I was just about to tell the women and men who were handling the drugs and money to get out, when something suddenly pushed me to the side. It would have sent me crashing to the ground except it was electromagnetic energy, not my own muscles, holding me erect. Still, I stumbled slightly.

Turning, I saw the spot where I'd downed Skidmark and Squealer empty. Note to self: Parahumans need more tasering than normal humans. A second later I saw Skidmark standing off to one side. I was caught up in his power, and even as I watched, he sent another wave of it cascading over my position.

There was a band of glowing energy covering the ground in front of me. The edge nearest to me was a pale blue that graduated all the way to a dark purple on the side opposite to me. Even as I looked, another wave settled down to my left, blue side in. Tentatively, I pushed against the blue side and immediately felt resistance. It felt oddly familiar, as if I were remembering something that I'd forgotten years before.

Pushing harder, I fought my way further through the effect. This was ridiculous, I thought. Still, I was making headway, even as a third band settled to my right. I was almost through the front ones, pushing as hard as I would lifting a multi-ton weight, when the monster truck behind Skidmark roared to life, a figure standing on the bed.

The energy cannon, which I hadn't thought I needed to worry about since I'd taken down Squealer, was now manned and being aimed at me by that selfsame villain. She pushed a button, and the tip of the gun lit up with a bright white light which grew steadily brighter as some kind of charge increased.

I was just about to try to take off and head upwards as fast as possible, as I didn't want to get fried by an unknown Tinker weapon, when I realized exactly what the charge that was building consisted of. I could feel its effects washing over me and bringing a smile of relief to my face. The gun was an electromagnetic cannon. I suddenly realized that Squealer must think I was wearing powered armor. She was about to hit me with an EMP blast. My own power, trying to be used against me.

I stopped moving even as the smile on my face grew. I waited the ten seconds it took for the charge to reach maximum and fire. Finally, after what felt like far longer, the cannon erupted with a surge of glittering white energy.

The energy hit the boundary of Skidmark's effect and effortlessly passed through. It struck me like a ton of bricks and I arched my back in bliss as pure electromagnetic force hammered into me. I felt completely refreshed, as if I'd had a good night's sleep. My muscles were completely relaxed in the blast's aftermath.

Whatever the two capes had expected, it wasn't that. I heard Skidmark yell something to Squealer as I again examined the effect in front of me, while bullets continued to spang off of my armor.

Tentatively, I pressed against Skidmark's effect. He'd managed to layer a fourth band of energy in front of me. I could feel the effect of the energy pressing upon me, trying to force me back. Then I understood, as if blinders had been released from my eyes. Why the energy felt familiar.

Skidmark's bands were another form of force, similar enough to electromagnetism that I thought I could manipulate it as well. Reaching out my senses, I could feel the energy itself, almost alien in nature, and with a twist, I shattered the bands into glowing blue and purple shards that flew everywhere, harmlessly dissipating as they landed. I could have just as easily absorbed them, converting and adding them to my pool, but this was far more dramatic.

Certainly Skidmark seemed to think so from the look of fear that crossed his face as I advanced towards him through the remnants. He tried to scramble away as I hammered him flat with a taser blast three times as intense as the first one I'd hit him with. He went down like a ton of bricks and didn't move, out cold.

Another blast took out any remaining merely human opponents, then I turned to face the last of my foes.

While I had been dealing with Skidmark, Squealer had managed to crawl into the cab of the monster truck and drive it to the back of the warehouse. There she'd turned it back around towards me. Now she was heading my way at over fifty miles an hour and still accelerating, the massive engine of the vehicle furiously roaring.

I didn't hesitate, raising my hand and launching a five gram metal disk into the air even as I charged electromagnetic rails. I fired straight into what used to be grill of the truck, causing it to implode inward like it had hit a steel post. The noise that followed was indescribable, filling the space and dominating the sound of the truck flipping upside-down where it crashed to a sliding stop just short of where I stood. After it came to rest, I could hear the snaps and pops of energy discharges from within the wreckage before I turned away.

Completing my turn, I surveyed the rest of the scene. All of the guards were down. Squealer and Skidmark were taken care of. There were only a couple of fires, but those would quickly burn out from lack of fuel. That left just the drugs and money to be dealt with.

I leaped into the air on a cloud of electromagnetic force and landed forcefully right next to the two tables, drawing cries from the people hiding beneath them. Raising my voice, I shouted, "I want every one of you to come out right now! You're going to drag all of those men outside! Then-"

One of the men that had been watching the counters stood up. With false bravado, he shouted back, "I ain't going to do shit for-"

I made him dance for thirty seconds with a taser burst before he collapsed to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Waiting a moment, I asked, "Is there anyone else who wants to be a draggee rather than a dragger? If so, speak up!" I waited two beats. "No? Let me repeat! Drag those men outside! Then I want you gone! From this neighborhood and from this city!"

One woman raised a trembling hand, her face a mask of fear. "Or what?"

"I do this to you."

I flipped another metal disc into the air, a ten gram this time, and launched it toward the rear of the warehouse, blasting a hole in the back wall big enough to drive ten monster trucks through, steels beams blasting outward from the massive explosion. It made everyone in front of me cower in terror.

I commanded, "Get moving." I also directed one of the stoutest of the remaining men to retrieve Squealer from the twisted wreckage of her truck. I knew she'd survived as I could still see her bio-electric signature in the remains.

I waited motionless until all of the bodies were outside, only using my power to gather up the various weapons to set them next to the drugs and anything else I didn't want to take with me, from phones to Tinker gear. Once everyone was gone, I rose into the air and hovered above the tables. Pulling more and more energy into me, a brilliant corona began to form around me, as occasional arcs of electricity struck the roof and ceiling. Once I had drawn enough, I fired it all straight down into the stacks of pills and powders.

The blast burned everything to ashes and scattered lumps of molten metal. Most people didn't realize that the inside of a lightning bolt was over forty thousand degrees Fahrenheit. In effect, that was exactly what I had just fired into the various illegal items beneath me. At that temperature, wood turned to ash, guns melted to slag, and drugs had all of their chemical bonds broken, reducing them to a charred mess.

The various denomination bills, which I had set to one side, I now gathered up, my power stacking them neatly into the waiting bags. American money was printed using magnetic ink which made moving them child's play. Tonight, some charity would receive a sizable donation, I thought, amused by the idea of dirty money serving a higher purpose.

The only other thing I did before leaving was use the same blast on the remains of the monster truck, destroying anything that had survived my railgun blast. Finally satisfied, I rose back through the skylight and flew off into the night, stopping only to call the police and report a group of unconscious criminals outside a warehouse, before heading home.

~~~Railgun~~~

AN: I had time to think about things and have decided not to make Taylor's official cape name Railgun. That's not to say that she won't end up getting called that, but it be more in terms of a nickname, mostly given by criminals as in "Look out, it's that crazy Railgun bitch! Get her!"

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 7*: Arc 2: Aiming—201 Interlude A

Arc 2: Aiming—2.01 Interlude A

~~~Railgun~~~

Ms Militia watched the footage of the interrogation of the cape known as Skidmark. His disgusting appearance stirred her stomach in an uneasy fashion as did his behavior. On the screen, he wore a high tech blindfold and his hands were fastened together in heavy titanium cuffs, used only on the most dangerous Parahumans. It didn't seem fitting for him to be wearing them, which was probably why they'd been changed out later for normal restraints.

Armsmaster was personally leading the interrogation, likely because the incident in which Skidmark had been captured involved a new cape with unknown abilities. While it wasn't SOP, Ms Militia could understand his interest.

Armsmaster had finally convinced the crashing cape to talk about what had happened by promising him medical attention for his withdrawal symptoms as soon as they were done. Ms Militia set herself to watch.

Armsmaster: (controlled) What happened after the skylight broke?

Skidmark: (his eyes were darting around wildly) All hell broke loose. This pisser in black armor just crashed to the ground in front of us. Controlled-like. The shit jockey hit us with some freaky taser built into his armor. My boys went down like a buncha cunts. Me and Squeal got tapped too. (his head is nodding to further emphasize his words)

Armsmaster: And then what happened?

Skidmark: (crazy smile) I woke the fuck up. Can't keep me down. Fuck no. And I got the muther fucker. I laid it right across his front. My blues. The cum-gargling ass drip was stuck behind it. I put another one on either side of him. Then more in front cause he was pushing through. Fuck! Then behind and I had him wrapped up, like a fucking gift...

Armsmaster: (prompting) So what happened?

Skidmark: (haltingly) Squealer, she gets up on her truck, man. It's loaded. Got all the bells and whistles. Like a kickass stereo. And a cannon. She's yelling to back off cause she's gonna shoot the shit turd. Which she did.

Armsmaster: Did it stop him?

Skidmark: (agitated) Fuck no! Bitch just soaked it in like it was high grade crank. Not even a ripple left. Then he puts his hands back on my blues and they just broke into a million pieces. Like they was made outta glass or something. Then the cockgargler hit me again. Fried my brain like it was bacon. I don't remember nothing else 'cept I woke up here.

Armsmaster: (dismissively) Thanks for your cooperation.

Skidmark: (desperation coloring his voice) Hey, man, you gonna get me some candy now, ain't you? Some of that legal stuff? I'm hurtin' here, a'ight?

Ms Militia switched to the second interrogation tape, the one featuring Squealer. She sat there, bandaged and hurting, her head down on the table in front of her. She finally raised it, a snarl on her face, to look at Armsmaster.

Squealer: (combative) I ain't talking to no fuzz. Fuck off, Mr Armorman. You ain't got shit on me, anyway. Fuckin' sell out.

Armsmaster: (threatening) You're going down on multiple counts. The only way you'll earn any mitigation is if I say you've been cooperative. If not, they'll throw the book at you. Plus until you've talked, I am withholding further medical attention. That means you're going cold turkey.

Squealer: (desperation) Fucker! All you of fuckers! Fuck! Fuckers! Oh God!

Armsmaster: (soothingly) It's up to you.

Squealer: (body language of surrender; eyes down) What you want to know?

Armsmaster: Just what happened in your words.

Squealer: Me and Skid were having a sweet night. Plenty of candy and the cash had rolled in that day. We'd just finished getting busy. I was getting ready to tune my ride up. Then...

Armsmaster: Then?

Squealer: Black bastard dropped out of nowhere. Ass fucker. (Covetous expression on her face) His armor was rad, though. The shitheel fucking tased me. Fuck, he tased everybody. All the joes, you know?

Armsmaster: (promptingly) So you lost consciousnesses?

Squealer: Fuck. Yeah, I was out. When I woke up, Skids was fucking his shit up. The black armored bitch, I mean. Had him on the ropes. I was gonna help him so I got on my truck. I had this rad piece of artillery on it. Real futuristic shit. It fired an EMP that would put any of you armor turds down. Fry your metal suits like a Mickey D's apple pie.

Armsmaster: (forbidding) But that's not what happened, is it?

Squealer: (whining) Noooo, it wasn't. I had him dead to rights, locked and loaded. And I hit him square. The effect was so totally rad, too. I know I had him dead to rights.

Armsmaster: (coaxing) Exactly what happened when you struck his armor with the EMP?

Squealer: (eyes blank) Nothing. Absoxactly nothing. He... ate it. Like it just soaked in. Then he went all postal on Skids. Busted his bands like they was nothing. Took him down. Me, I...

Armsmaster: What did you do, Squealer?

Squealer: (eyes still distant) I got in my ride and took off. I was thinking about busting out the back, you know? That black bastard was nasty. But then I saw Skids, lying there all broke 'n stuff. I wasn't letting the shit get away with that. So I ran him down.

Armsmaster: (shuffling papers in front of him) You hit him with the truck you'd modified to a Class 3 Tinker's rig?

Squealer: (shaking her head in disbelief) Nah. I tried, though. I put the pedal to the metal, for sure. First, he's just standing there and I'm thinking he's fucked. But then he does something. Looks like he's throwing something up in the air. That's when everything went to fuck. There was this light and I was flying upside down. I don't remember landing.

Armsmaster: (getting up to leave) Thank you for your cooperation, Squealer.

Squealer: (voice loud and agitated) You going to get that fuck, Mr Armorman? You going after him? If you do, bust him up! Hit him for me! The fucker! Fuck him up! F-

Ms Militia shut off the monitor with a frown. How those two had escaped custody was beyond her. Then again, that was probably exactly how they'd escaped, since everyone they encountered tended to underestimate them, hence the change to ordinary restraints from the earlier Class 2's. Plus, they'd had assistance from another Parahuman member of the Merchants, Mush, the one who used garbage and other loose materials to make his powered form. It had been him who had overturned the Protectorate van they'd been in and took on Battery for the few minutes it had taken Skidmark and Squealer to get loose, leaving her covered in filth and blazingly angry.

With a sigh, Ms Militia put aside the idea of humbled capes and lessons learned, and concentrated back on the unknown cape, the main reason she was working late. Again. She'd already reviewed the interviews with the various human participants from the men who had acted as hired muscle, to one man who had apparently been a money counter. For the most part, all of their accounts meshed and she added them to the file.

Unfortunately, the only other real intelligence they'd garnered on the unknown cape had come from the money counter, who had said that the armored figure had fired some kind of brilliant beam of light at Squealer's truck, which had struck the front of the vehicle, blasting it up into the air where it had finally crashed down right in front of the cape. From what the money counter had said, Squealer was lucky to be alive, let alone get out with only minor injuries. Reviewing the photos from the scene, Ms Militia agreed with his analysis, unless Squealer's truck was a lot tougher than the shattered remnants appeared.

Afterward, the same witness had seen the cape leap at least fifty feet through the air in a couple of seconds to land right in front of the two tables where the drugs and money had been stacked Unfortunately, he'd said something offensive, which had earned him the same treatment as the rest of his confederates, a quick trip to unconsciousness.

Forensic evidence at the scene had shown large scale traces of magnetism present in many of the metallic items littering the warehouse. Additionally, watches and phones of almost everyone present had been destroyed by some form of electromagnetic energy, although both occurrences were likely a result of the EMP cannon that Squealer had used and not the armored figure's own electrical powers.

There were no drugs or money at the scene, but forensics had shown that both had been present, with the drugs and a great deal of Tinker gear destroyed by an intense amount of heat. The act didn't narrow the field much, since most vigilantes, rogues, and villains would also have taken the money, even if they had no use for the drugs. Of course, the least unpalatable option was to be hoped against, that the unknown was a villain setting up their own territory while working to destroy a rival's.

It would have helped if they could have talked to one of the people who had remained conscious throughout the engagement, but they had all scattered like roaches before the PRT troops had arrived at the scene. Maybe one of them could have explained the reason for the the gaping hole in the rear of the building, where the back wall was simply... gone, concrete and steel blasted and melted away. None of the people taken into custody had known anything about it, so it had clearly taken place after the bulk of the fighting was finished.

One of the Protectorate Thinkers, Eleventh Hour, had theorized that the unknown cape was using an armored battlesuit that possessed strong electrical energies for both flight and offense. That would make the unknown at least a Tinker 4 with a specialty in armored suits and electricity, along with a Mover 3, Brute 3, Blaster 3 classifications as well because of the same armored suit.

Ms Militia tentatively added Thinker 2 to the file, as the unknown cape had easily outwitted two experienced Parahumans, even if they were a couple of drug-addled idiots. Even idiots are dangerous when they had powers as Battery had learned to her chagrin earlier that day.

Finally, Ms Militia added a Trump 2 to the file as well, since the cape had somehow negated both the effects of that EMP cannon of Squealer's and Skidmark's blue bands of force. The resulting amalgamation was definitely a concern: Blaster 3, Brute 3, Mover 3, Thinker 2, Tinker 4, and Trump 2. A cape with all of those abilities would be both strong and versatile, to say the least. She could only hope he was on their side and not a villain acting to seize territory and build reputation.

The last thing that Ms Militia added to the file was a tentative name for the unknown. Glancing over all of the abilities he had shown, she wrote down Tesla at the top of the file. It seemed to fit. Ms Militia set the file in her out box. She'd have Armsmaster review it tomorrow. For now, it was time to go home.

~~~Railgun~~~

Skidmark threw the TV's remote control against the wall, breaking it into pieces. The big flat screen TV had been one of the few items they'd retrieved relatively intact from the warehouse, but it didn't work. Just like everything else there, it was fucked to hell and back. And Squealer didn't have time to fix it, too busy working on another truck, this one bigger and badder than the last.

He hated being here, in this glorified crack house. It smacked of hiding. So what if it was where they'd started out before the warehouse? Despite combining a garage and living quarters, it wasn't home anymore and it chaffed.

The meth in Skidmark's veins made the world feel clear and murky, both at the same time. He was at once angry and paranoid. He was so full of energy that he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs until his voice was hoarse and scratchy. But he didn't as it wouldn't solve his problem of what to do about the fucker who'd hit them. Who'd humiliated them.

Hell, they didn't even know the asswipe's name, let alone where to find him. Without some kind of intel, they couldn't do shit to the fucker. It left him feeling angry and wanting to hit someone. Anyone. Just so that he could make the world feel whole again. So he wouldn't be wondering when someone else was going to disrespect them, attacking because they knew there would be no consequences.

Skidmark knew that the Merchants didn't have the respect and admiration of the other villain gangs in Brockton Bay. His was considered the weakest, which was bullshit as far as he was concerned. Their territory may have been what none of the others wanted, although why that was, he couldn't understand. It was ripe with potential, after all, and he took in good money every day from the junkies and whores who littered the landscape.

That was part of the problem. The cash at the warehouse had been most of their take for the entire month. They were supposed to pay everybody out of it, from muscleboys to baggers. Now it was gone, either stolen or ash. He wasn't sure he believed that armored fuck who said it had been burned up. Nah, it was more likely they'd confiscated it, using it for their own shit. Fucking thieves.

But he was left in the hole because of it. Now he had no cash for more product or to pay his peeps. He'd have to rebuild, not from scratch, but close enough.

Worse, they'd become the laughing stock of Brockton Bay. The Nazis and Chinks from the Empire and the ABB were laughing at him. Squealer had told him so. It was why she was working so hard on her new ride. She said they needed to make a statement. To hit someone. Hurt them bad. That'd show the other gangs that they were for real. And here to stay.

But Skidmark didn't have the slightest idea of who to take down. Despite his bravado, he wasn't keen on messing around with the other capes, either the heroes or the villains. That left civilians.

While he didn't mind hurting somebody, Skidmark didn't think that hitting his own territory's peeps was smart. No, he concluded, it wasn't. So he needed to hurt someone else. Someone easy. Someone vulnerable. But someone high profile enough so that the other gangs would hear. Learn some respect for the Merchants.

"Yo, Skids! I got something for you!"

Skidmark turned upon hearing his name called, his mind still in chaos. "What the fuck you want, Squealer? I thought you were busy making another ride."

The sexy object of his affections walked up to him and grabbed him through his loose-fitting warm up pants, rubbing him up and down. What the fuck? Did the bitch want to go right here and now?

Skidmark was considering doing just that when she laughed and spun away, sprawling on a nearby couch, her shorts so brief they nearly showed the object of his interest. She waved a paper at him.

"I was. It's almost done. But I got something better. One of the crew was over on Twenty-second Avenue, over by the Arcade. He saw this flyer and thought we might like to see it."

"Bitch, give that here." Skidmark snatched the flyer from Squealer's hand. Flattening out the wrinkled paper, he stared uncomprehendingly at the print for a moment as he struggled to read it. Then slowly, as if by magic, all of the chaos of his thoughts disappeared. He knew exactly what they were going to do. Exactly what statement they were going to make. They'd be in and out fast, like shit from a goose, just staying long enough to cause the maximum amount of damage.

Laughing like a hyena, Skidmark wadded up the flyer and tossed it into the corner. When it landed, only one letter were visible on its crumpled form, a stylized A.

Skidmark crowed in triumph, "We are going to fuck those rich fuckers up!" Without another word, he jumped on Squealer, who lived up to her name, intent on celebrating the best idea of his life. A few minutes later, the only sound in the room was the slapping of flesh on flesh.

~~~Railgun~~~

Armsmaster stared at the one foot square of glittering crimson cloth that sat in front him on his lab table. He wasn't sure why anyone would think such a thing would be an effective material for making costumes for Protectorate heroes. The mere fact that it was made from metal didn't seem nearly enough reason.

He glanced at the memo that he had received from Director Piggot, noting that it mentioned the source of the sample was the Parahuman rogue, Parian, who made Brockton Bay her home. That peaked his interest momentarily, but it subsided as he realized that Parian had never produced anything of note before.

Deciding to do a couple of quick tests for durability so that he would have an immediate reason for failing the material, Armsmaster carried the metallic cloth over to a machine he used to stamp out casings for some of his small gear.

Placing the swath of cloth into the stamper, he adjusted the settings so that it would basically get cut in half. Then he pushed a button to active the stamper. A moment later, the steel edge of the stamper came down inexorably upon the cloth.

There was a faint whining sound from the machine, but other than that, nothing else happened. The metal cloth appeared utterly unharmed.

Surprised, Armsmaster reversed the stamper's direction, then picked up the cloth and examined it closely. None of the tiny links were so much as bent. Nor was the finish marred. Instead, it rested in his hands as shimmeringly beautiful as before he'd attempted to damage it.

Finally interested, Armsmaster began another durability test, this time with heat. Using a medium power laser, he quickly focused its beam upon the center of cloth. After a moment, he turned the beam's output up. Then up again.

There was something odd about the way the material was heating up. Bringing up an overlay for his helm's optics, Armsmaster noted that the entire swatch of cloth was roughly the same temperature, something which should not be happening. Instead, there should be a small area of far more intense heat, surrounded by circles of slowly decreasing heat.

The material showed some of the characteristics of a superconductor, at least in regard to how it dealt with heat effects. Absently, he adjusted the laser's intensity higher again, noting the increase in heat as well as how quickly that effect spread. Close to instantaneous, he thought. He'd get an exact latency time at a later time.

A glance to one side noted the temperature of the metal, and Armsmaster hastily dialed down the laser's intensity before turning it off. While he allowed the material to cool, something it did with almost indecent haste, he pondered the implications.

The laser had heated the entirety of the small piece of material to just over forty-eight hundred degrees Kelvin with no effect. It was a mind boggling showing, as ordinary steel melted at eighteen hundred degrees, while even tungsten melted at thirty-seven hundred and seventy degrees.

The metallic cloth showed some of the characteristics of iron, of which it had to be an isotope of, at least according to the mass spectrometry and density tests he conducted, but it had other, far different characteristics as well. After all, no alloy of iron had a melting point or stress failure point anywhere nearly this high.

Three hours later, Armsmaster was done with all of his initial tests. In front of him, he had a four separate pieces of a blackened, brittle cloth-like material. The results of the tests astonished him. He had no idea how Parian had managed to align the crystalline matrix of the iron in such a way that it had become one of the most durable materials he had ever encountered. That she had was something which he could no longer deny.

The metal cloth had resisted thermal effects ranging from one degree Kelvin to over twenty thousand, before finally succumbing at twenty-two thousand and one hundred degrees Kelvin. The metal was also almost a Holy Grail material as it had resisted shearing, deformation, and deflection all equally well, while showing a surprising amount of elasticity. Not that anyone would be building space elevators from it anytime soon as it was far too heavy, but it was still a superlative substance.

Even the coating, something that appeared to be some form of pigmented iron-based polymer, was almost as durable as the actual metal itself, as well as attached through some form of melding process that made it virtually one piece.

The cloth was more than suitable for the construction of Parahuman costumes. Armsmaster admitted that he, himself, wouldn't mind obtaining several swaths of the material to shore up areas of his own armor. The cloth was actually many times stronger than the much thicker solid metal panels of his armor.

Too bad there wasn't any way it could be provided as actual armored panels. That is, unless he... Armsmaster reconsidered the problem, then decided that if he used an appropriate resinous base with the existing cloth, he could make armored panels that would be a major increase in toughness with a similar decrease in weight. They could take the place of several of the panels of his own armor, increasing his combat effectiveness at least twelve percent, through the increase in defense and decrease in weight.

After writing up a report on the material, Armsmaster decided to go ahead and send it to not only Director Piggot, but also to Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown, Glenn Chambers, and the Office of Supply and Management. That should reduce any possibility of the metal cloth's usage being reconsidered based merely on cost.

On the other hand, no matter what Director Piggot or the other PRT authorities decided, Armsmaster would be obtaining more samples of this cloth for his own use, both to bolster and strengthen his existing armor. After all, it was impossible for him to ignore an opportunity to increase his efficiency in so many ways.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 8*: Arc 2: Aiming—202

Arc 2: Aiming—2.02

AN: I made some small changes to previous chapters. However, it is not necessary to go back and read them if you don't want to. However, if you do notice something off, that's it.

~~~Railgun~~~

I skipped patrolling the next night, spending some of it surfing the web, looking for evidence of my cape debut. Unfortunately, the only thing I found was a little blurb about the PRT taking custody of Squealer and Skidmark, their capture credited to an unknown cape. There was a little speculation on PHO, but nothing concrete.

Feeling restless, I went out on Monday, despite it being a school night, hunting more prey. I'd heard that both Squealer and Skidmark had escaped Protectorate custody that afternoon, aided by someone who could only be Mush. It had been on all of the news channels after school, as it had occurred right in front of a news crew who had been outside the Protectorate Headquarters, ready to do a story on the Wards.

I wasn't sure how I felt about it. On one hand, I knew that keeping Parahumans in jail was difficult, well, other than the Birdcage. But still, it was Skidmark and Squealer we were talking about here. How incompetent was the PRT that they couldn't keep even some of the most pathetic capes in Brockton Bay incarcerated? Were they even trying?

Shaking my head, I focused upon my surroundings. I'd decided to try to do the same thing to the ABB that I'd done to the Merchants the night before, minus fighting any capes. So far, though, I wasn't having any luck.

Oh, I'd found drug dealers and whores, some of them at work in dark alleys, although still visible to my sight and all sporting ABB gang colors. To my distaste, I'd been able to see it all, except for the one thing I was looking for: anything resembling a resupply run by anyone. No trucks, cars, or other vehicles other than a few piloted by obvious buyers looking for a high. It was starting to make me frustrated.

I took a deep breath and released it. I had to be careful not to allow my emotions to get too intense or I would be surrounded by a coronal discharge as energy bled off, making me visible for miles from where I hovered high above the city. No, it was better to stay calm even if I had to wait for tomorrow to actually accomplish something.

It didn't help that I was getting increasingly nervous at the idea of attending the dance with Chris. After all, I didn't have a clue how to dance, never having had the opportunity to learn since starting high school. If Chris asked me, it was far too likely I'd embarrass myself, or him, when I flailed around the dance floor.

It didn't help that I wasn't even sure I liked him that way. Although, if I had to guess, I'd say no. If anything, either Carlos or Dean were more to my taste. Unbidden, an image of short curly hair and laughing eyes briefly appeared in my mind, before I dismissed it. My life was entirely too complicated already to allow any room for a boyfriend. That was one thing I was sure about.

I paused, as I suddenly spotted something. There was something going on with a pair of ABB drug dealers. Focusing my sight on them, I was able to take in details, including how the ABB dealers cringed away from the person floating in front and a few feet above of them. A person wearing a three quarters face mask and red and black robes with an honest to goodness cowl. Rune, of Empire 88.

I scowled, but couldn't help a shiver of worry. Empire 88 was a bit more than I had wanted to bite off tonight. I hadn't even planned to fight a cape if at all possible for the first few weeks I went out, the other night notwithstanding. But what to do about it tonight?

I could just ignore this and just go looking for another way to hurt the ABB. But Empire 88 was just as much a cancer on the city as the ABB or the Merchants. Losing one of their stronger capes, assuming I could beat Rune, would be a blow to both their reputation and their ability to project force through the city.

If it had been left solely up to me, I don't think I would have done anything. Last night could have gone so much worse if not for the fact that Squealer thought she was dealing with another Tinker wearing power armor and used an EMP cannon on me instead of something a lot more physically devastating. Unfortunately, I subsequently saw something which I couldn't allow to continue.

Floating there so far below me, Rune was surrounded by a cloud of debris that was rotating around where she was perched on another much larger piece of concrete and rebar. I knew she was a touch telekinetic, able to handle around a ton, with clearly little or no limit on how many items she could handle based on the sheer number that were floating around her. She was handling all of those plus the two heavy chunks of concrete that she was using to crush the two ABB drug dealers into the ground.

I wasn't sure Rune would kill them, but she just might. If she did, and I let her, I would be as much responsible as she was. I needed to stop her. Since shock and awe had worked last night, I decided to try it again tonight.

Dropping like a rock, air whistled around me as I quickly hit a respectable velocity. Beneath me, Rune rapidly grew in size until it was time to put on the brakes. I managed to come to a stop just above and behind the Empire cape. It was then that I learned the difference between fighting two unprepared, drugged out capes and one alert, well-trained one.

Before I could unleash a blast of electricity to taser her, half a dozen chunks of concrete hammered into my armor, knocking me back and down. The thuds were disorienting, but didn't really hurt me. Maybe if they had been going faster, they might have affected me differently, but as it was, it was more of a push than a real hit. What wasn't so go good was the lunge that allowed Rune to tag my foot with her hand.

I was pulled upside down almost immediately, then hammered into the building behind me. The same pieces of concrete pursued me and immediately began pummeling me over and over again. The din of being inside a metal suit when it was being beat on by what were in effect big rocks was deafening. I made a mental note to invest in ear plugs for my next outing.

It took me a moment to use my electromagnetism to turn me back right side up, but I managed it, lurching a little as Rune's power fought my own. Once upright, I set out to deal with the debris hitting me. Fortunately, three of the six piece of concrete had rebar running through it. Unfortunately, the remaining three did not. I was able to wrestle Rune for control of the three pieces, but she able to use the remaining pieces to still batter at me.

It took me a second, then some of the metal rebar on the other pieces of concrete tore themselves free and wrapped around the ones hitting me. I was able to use that hold to force them away from me. I immediately used my ability to track bio-electric fields to find Rune.

The Empire 88 cape was hovering about twenty feet to my right and about five feet higher, hidden in the shadow of a building. Reaching out with my electromagnetism, I felt the metal in the concrete piece Rune was using as a platform to stand upon. Pushing myself hard, I slammed her perch to the ground as fast as I could, overwhelming her power.

It didn't hit as hard as I would have liked, fighting as I was against the other cape's power, but Rune was jolted and fell off with a pained cry. A second later, she staggered to her feet, almost falling down again as her leg buckled. I was just about to hit her with a medium ranged taser blast when she took off running, markedly limping.

What the fuck? She was running away? I don't know why I was so shocked that a villain would flee a fight. Then Rune disappeared around the corner of a building and was lost in the darkness. I was just about to pursue when I realized that the two men behind me were still being crushed by pieces of concrete weighing hundreds of pounds apiece.

Cursing under my breath, I landed next to the two downed men, their wheezing breathing not sounding good at all. If I could just flip the concrete off with my power, I could still catch up to Rune. But I quickly found that neither piece had any metal in it. I was going to have to do this the hard way. I immediately released the whip from my side.

A minute later, I had it snaking under and around the first block and quickly pulled it off. Then I did the same to the second.

Of course, as soon as I released them, both men tried to take off running. A flicker of power filled the alley with a flash of light as I tased both of them, sending them skidding to the ground. I rifled their pockets, taking the drugs and money off of them, as well as a couple of knives.

Truthfully, I had no idea with the little baggies of powders and small glass vials of rough crystals were. Nor did I really care. It was illegal drugs and that was enough. Tossing the drugs and the knives onto the street in rough pile, I superheated them with what was essentially a bolt of lightning. When I was done, even the glass had melted to a slowly spreading pool of slag.

Tucking the money into my gauntlet, I lightly kicked one of the men in the side. He stirred after a moment, then turned over onto his back. I immediately saw that man was a misnomer. He couldn't have been much older than me. Looking up at me, I saw his eyes widen in fear. In a threatening tone, I said, "I don't want to see you selling drugs here again, understand me?"

The boy said something in what might have been Korean, although I wasn't sure. Then in English, he muttered, "Lung kill you."

It wasn't something I was too worried about as I had no intention of taking on the head of the ABB any time soon. "No more drugs. I won't tell you again."

Defiance in his eyes, the boy shot me the finger. Tasing both him and his friend again, I took off. Maybe if I hurried, I could still catch up to Rune.

As it turned out, that was a vague hope. Rune had disappeared, and I was unwilling to attempt to venture deeply into the territory of Empire 88. After all, even the local Protectorate didn't go anywhere near there unless it was in force. Certainly none of them would venture in alone.

Just as annoying, the ABB drug dealers were gone as well when I went back to grab them.

With a sigh, I decided to head home in an attempt to get at least a little sleep before class tomorrow.

~~~Railgun~~~

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Topic: Newest Cape in the Bay
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay

► Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on April 5, 2011:

Okay, folks, here's what I have. A new cape debuted last night and fought Rune of Empire 88, using some kind of power armor. What exactly their powers are, other than being able to make the armor, are unknown. I think we can at least classify them as a Tinker 4 if for no other reasons than the armor they were wearing.

The link to the video of her fighting Rune is here.

► Chrome
Posted on April 5, 2011:

Bagrat you just beat me posting this. At least I'm the second to post on the subject of the new cape.

Okay, this is what I know so far. The cape was almost certainly the same person who took down Skidmark and Squealer Saturday night. I base this upon the fact that several of the Merchants who were there and got their asses kicked posted some stuff on their so-called 'secret' social media site. Link to that crap is here.

The new cape appears to be a Tinker. Their power armor has tremendous electrical powers, based on the surges of electricity that were visible on the video that Bagrat posted.

► SamIAm

Posted on April 5, 2011:

Okay, this is cool, but scary. Another Parahuman here in Brockton Bay? What the hell? Are they putting something in the water that's causing this?

Chrome I think the power of that armor is more electromagnetic than just electrical. You can see rebar sticking out of the pieces of concrete they were able to gain control of when Rune is smashing them into her.

► XxVoid_CowboyxX (Cape Geek)
Posted on April 5, 2011:

Okay, this is just badass. I bet the new tinker's going to kick ass against the gangs. I wonder if he would make me a suit of armor? That would be beyond cool.

► Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on April 5, 2011:

Chrome I agree with SamIAm. He looks like he was using electromagnetic power against Rune. But to be fair, it could be something else entirely. Gravity shears, force beams, everything is fair game until we find out more.

► WhedonRipperFan

Posted on April 5, 2011:

Do we know anything about why the cape was rescuing 2 ABB gooks from Rune? I mean, I get it that Rune's a villain, but the ABB is just as bad if not worse.

User received an infraction for this post: Please avoid racist language in the future.

► Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on April 5, 2011:

WhedonRipperFan I think it's less him rescuing two ABB gooks than him wanted to mix it up with Rune. Didn't you see him zap those guys afterward?

► Chrome
Posted on April 5, 2011:

Yeah, that almost definitely had to be electrical. Some kind of wireless taser system, maybe.

► WhedonRipperFan

Posted on April 5, 2011:

Bagrat Okay, I see it. Don't ask me how I missed it the first time.

SergeantBoom(PRT Agent)

Posted on April 5, 2011:

I just wanted to add my two cents. There's evidence of electromagnetic energy at both the sight of the fight with Rune and from when Skidmark and Squealer were taken down. Also, the drugs at both sites were destroyed. I know there's a significant group here that is hoping this new cape is a hero. Oh and the PRT is using Tesla for a codename for the new cape.

End of Page. 1

Topic: Newest Cape in the Bay
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay

Iron_Fist

Posted on April 7, 2011:

Whoever this new cape is they are clearly cowards. Ambushing Rune? Why not straight up and fight like a man instead of mewling backstabber?

► Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on April 7, 2011:

Iron_Fist Um... because Rune's a villain and a Nazi? Come on, is this a serious post? Because if it is, I can only conclude that you support Empire 88's agenda. Maybe you're one of their unpowered members.

Iron_Fist

Posted on April 7, 2011:

Bagrat W Someone doesn't need to be a member of Empire 88 to know that the stand they have taken against the subhumans who inhabit our city is a worthy one. I posted edited for content.

User received a 30 day suspension for this post: This is not the right place to have a discussion about racism or push a racist agenda.

► XxVoid_CowboyxX (Cape Geek)
Posted on April 7, 2011:

I agree with Bagrat. Oh, and I have a name suggestion for the new cape. How about Bolt?

HotterThanYou (Cape Groupie)

Posted on April 7, 2011:

I think Bolt's a great name. He's clearly a sexy beast of a man in that metal suit.

► Miraclemic

Posted on April 7, 2011:

XxVoid_CowboyxX Bolt? Seriously? I don't think so. If this new cape's powers are somehow electrical in nature, and not just a result of their suit's capabilities, I would think Tesla would be a better choice. It covers both the potential of being a Tinker or having electrical-based powers.

► XxVoid_CowboyxX (Cape Geek)
Posted on April 7, 2011:

Miraclemic I prefer Bolt.

HotterThanYou If you wanted to get together to talk about Bolt, my IM is posted edited for content.

Please do not post personal information on the boards. Personal information cannot be guaranteed not to be misused.

► Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on April 7, 2011:

Stay on topic, people. Oh, and trying to pick up someone here is just beyond creepy.

If Tesla (Thank you, SergeantBoom) was responsible for capturing Skidmark and Squealer, he is not going to be happy that they escape the next day. I, for one, do not understand why it is so hard to keep capes in custody here in Brockton Bay. New York and Chicago doesn't seem to have the same problems.

SergeantBoom(PRT Agent)

Posted on April 7, 2011:

Bagrat There are a number of reasons for the escape of the two Merchant capes. However, probably the most relevant one is having to maintain such a large patrol presence with the current tensions between the ABB and Empire 88. That left only Battery for prisoner escort. I won't go into further details, but without a bigger Protectorate presence here, it's going to continue to be difficult to maintain order. With Empire 88 alone having 15 capes, the current Protectorate roster is no match for them alone.

► Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on April 7, 2011:

SergeantBoom Look, I get that you have a vested interest in defending the Protectorate, but let's be honest. There's been a split in Empire 88 for months now, with Purity and at least 3 others going out on their own. That only leaves them with 11 capes. If the Protectorate, with its roster of 7 full members and 6 Wards, can't take them on, they should ask New Wave to help. Lady Photon would almost certainly be up to taking on the Empire after what happened to Fleur all those years ago.

But more importantly, the Merchants are not Empire 88. If they can't keep a couple of Merchant capes in custody, there's zero chance they can do the same for say, Rune, if Tesla had managed to capture her.

IsAnybodyOutThere

Posted on April 7, 2011:

Personally, I think they could do better, but that's not why I'm here. I wanted to talk about Tesla (nod to SergeantBoom). My theory is that she is using a battle suit. So Tinker 6, because, let's be real, she was able to overpower Rune, who is probably the strongest TK talent in the city, even with her limitation. That speaks of an extremely powerful and advanced suit of armor. I mean flight, high exoskeletal strength, and tasers seem to be just the beginning of what she has to offer.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 … 43, 44, 45

~~~Railgun~~~

"Hey, Taylor! Wait up!"

I turned at the sound of my name. I watched, surprised, as Victoria Dallon sprinted up to me. Grinning, she said, "What's up, skinny?"

At my frown, she just laughed. Hooking my arm with hers on the side opposite my backpack, Victoria pulled me towards the ladies room. Short of digging my heels into the floor and simultaneously gaining several points of Brute strength, I wasn't going to be stopping her any time soon.

Once inside, I managed to pull loose, asking, "What do you want, Victoria?"

Victoria floated about six inches off of the ground, then spun around in a circle. I watched, feeling utterly flabbergasted at her actions. When she was facing me again, she asked, "Well? What do you think?"

Confused, I asked, "About what?"

She almost shrieked, "My outfit! I have on the one that Parian loaned me. What do you think?"

Studying her, I finally noticed the shimmering silver top and gorgeous dark grey metal mini-skirt she was wearing. "Wow. You look great."

Landing back on the ground which caused some bouncing and jiggling, she grinned and said, "I know! I love it. The skirt is gorgeous. And the top? The material is perfect. You don't even have to wear a bra with it if you don't want to. I mean, nothing shows through, so why bother?"

I had no idea what to say to that, so I merely nodded dumbly. I managed, "I'm glad you like it so much."

"I do. Thanks so much for putting in the good word for me with Parian. She's great."

"She is." I managed a somewhat shaky smile and said in a teasing tone, "Though, I'm just glad she had something that would fit your... proportions."

Victoria looked absolutely astonished, then started laughing. Then she abruptly stopped. "Are you calling me fat? I am not fat!"

She spun to face the mirror, making a big production of checking herself thoroughly from the front, then in silhouette. Satisfied with the image of the stunningly beautiful girl there, she spun back toward me with a cheeky grin. I rolled my eyes at her antics, a reluctant smile pulling up the corners of my mouth.

Victoria said, "You know, I'd almost want to be nearly as thin as you if all that was available were tops in your size. That one is just as beautiful as the one you had on the other day."

I was wearing one of the more conservatively colored tops, a shimmering gray, a couple of shades darker than Victoria's skirt. Instead of another pair of metal pants, I was just wearing regular blue jeans with it, a far cry from the fashion plate in front of me.

Abruptly, Victoria changed the subject. "So I heard that you're going to the dance with Chris. Is that right?"

I hedged, "Where did you hear that?"

"I heard it from Dean who heard it from Missy who heard it from Dennis who heard it from Chris. So give. Are you going out with Chris?"

I held up a hand. "Look, Chris and I are just friends. Ugh... don't take this wrong, but why would you even care whether I'm going to the dance with someone?"

Victoria actually looked hurt. "Why wouldn't I care? Aren't we friends?"

I must have looked as flummoxed as I felt because the girl took pity on me. "Look, I like you. You've got style and you were nice to my sister. And you're so not a fan girl. I get more than enough of those. So when someone's genuine, I really appreciate it. Plus, you really did do me a big favor. So I'd like to be friends if you'll let me."

In my head, I was chanting 'New Taylor' over and over again. I managed another smile and said, "Okay, fine. Seriously, though, Victoria, there's nothing going on between the two of us. Chris is just a boy I'm friends with."

She eyed me in speculation. "Okay, I get that you think so. But Chris is kind of inexperienced with girls. He might not get that right away. Just... be nice if he comes on a little strong. Let him down easy."

I nodded a little jerkily. "Sure. I can do that."

"Good!" Rubbing her hands together, Victoria said, "Now I can talk to you about the other thing."

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I asked, "What other thing?"

"Taylor, what do you know about using make up?"

I knew it was already too late to try to make a break for it with Victoria between me and the door. Besides she was probably faster than me at the best of times. Still, why did I want to run away more than at any time in my life?

~~~Railgun~~~

Skidmark stood on a platform bolted to the front of Squealer's latest creation. Built using the frame and chassis of an eighteen-wheeler, the huge machine had two extra sets of axles putting the new engine's power to the pavement and extended a good twenty feet longer than a typical truck.

It also had built in invisibility or super-camoflauge as Squealer called it. That was all that Skidmark needed to know about the thing so long as it worked. They were going to fuck the shit out of the little rich turds at the dance. In doing so, they'd gained the respect of the rest of Brockton Bay's gangs, he thought, ignoring the fact that their targets were high school kids.

Skidmark took one final look at the three dozen or so gang members who were hanging onto the monstrous truck all around him before shouting, "Yo, Squealer! Let's move out!"

He saw the thumb's up that she sent him in return and braced himself as the best of a truck started off with a lurch. This was going to be fun!

~~~Railgun~~~

I felt nervous as I walked into the gymnasium where the dance was being held. Chris and I had agreed to meet there, which neatly dodged him having to know where I lived in case things went wrong. Maybe it was a little cowardly, okay, a lot cowardly, but I was far too worried that the night would turn out to be a disaster in more ways than one so I was already doing preemptive work to minimize the fall out.

I was wearing another of the metal tops, this one a shimmering green in color that I had actually allowed Parian to talk me into having it show a little décolletage. Not that I had much of anything to show, being nearly as flat as a boy myself, but it gave that illusion at least.

I paired it with a pair of the metal pants that were as shimmery as the top, albeit in black. The shoes I was wearing were a pair of flats both because I didn't have any heels and didn't want to tower over my date. I'd recently been experiencing a growth spurt of sorts and was already up to five eight, which put me at eye level to Chris.

I wore my hair loose and after much debate, had left my glasses at home. I didn't really need them after all, and wanted to look as nice as possible. The day before, I had sat through the worst hour of my life with Victoria Dallon showing me how to put on make up after which she'd pressed a small bag into my hands as a gift.

'The Basics' she'd called it, but the contents had appeared pretty wide-ranging to me. I didn't even know what half of the stuff did, despite my earlier tutorial. In the end, I only went with a little base, eye shadow, mascara, and lip gloss. It looked good in the mirror at home, plus it had the added benefit of not blocking my pores too much and making me break out, acne yet another thing I was battling. Yay for being a teenager, I thought facetiously.

There was a group of students standing just past the entrance and I felt a flutter in my stomach as I recognized what I had laughingly come to refer to as the 'Gang' at least in my head. Carlos was there with a cute, much shorter red-headed girl. Dennis was also there, although he seemed to be running solo.

Standing next to him was Amy Dallon, and she, too, seemed there alone. Victoria and Dean were also present, resplendent in stunning designer minidress and a fancy designer suit respectively. She'd told me yesterday that they were going together to the dance. Now looking at them, I almost giggled at the idea of the two of them swapping clothes, but managed to get it under control. I could see that they would easily be the most beautiful couple there. In addition, there were another two couples there, that I didn't know.

Of course, all of my thinking was just a distraction to keep me from focusing upon my date. Chris stood next to Dennis, wearing a grey slacks and a nice, long-sleeved, button up shirt in a shade of teal that suited him. Of course, it was at that moment as I was checking him out that Victoria noticed me.

"Taylor! Hey, everybody, Taylor's here!"

Even as Dean was saying something into Victoria's ear that set the two of them to arguing in low tones, all the others present turned their attention toward me.

I was all too aware of what they saw, a tall, skinny girl with long brunette hair hanging in curls more than halfway down her back wearing an outfit that made her seem like she was trying too hard. However, I steeled myself to continue to walk forward as I didn't want to be the old, cowardly Taylor who never took chances. Of course, if things went as wrong as they could, I might be welcoming her back with open arms.

I stopped in front of Chris, whose mouth was opening and closing like a fish's, making me raise a brow in interrogation. In the end, it was Dennis who rescued him, giving him a hard elbow in the side, and when that didn't work, saying brightly, "What Chris is trying to say is that you look beautiful tonight, Taylor, and that he is the luckiest guy present to be here with such a lovely date. Right, Chris?"

Chris nodded dazedly, then smiled a bit more genuinely. "I-it's really good to see you, Taylor. You look great."

My smile, which had completely frozen at Dennis' flamboyant compliments, began to thaw. I managed to get out, "You look good, too, Chris. I like the color of your shirt."

Right at that moment Hurricane Victoria arrived. "Oh My God! Taylor, I have not see that shade of green before on anything that Parian has! It's absolutely amazing and so perfect for your coloring! And those pants! I can't wait until I can afford to actually buy some like them from Parian! I-"

Fortunately for me, Dean managed to corral his date, patiently explaining to her why it wasn't a good idea to scream in the face of people who were already nervous.

He was right about that. I had almost zapped Victoria when she'd appeared in front of me, so sudden was her presence. I was starting to like Victoria, but with her, a little went a long way. It was about then that I saw Amy looking my way, and I quickly stepped over to say hello.

"Hi, Amy. How are you doing tonight?"

She gave a desultory wave, her expression one of careful boredom. "It's not really my thing. I only came because Victoria insisted."

"Because if she hadn't, you would have been at the hospital yet another night healing people until you were exhausted." This was from a blonde girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to Victoria, but who was probably actually prettier, minus her bubblegum pink hair. "Hi, I'm Crystal, Amy's cousin. This is my date, Ted. Over there's my brother, Eric, and his date, Cecille."

I gave them all a dazed wave, then stupidly asked, "I thought you were in college."

Crystal laughed, seemingly not at all affronted by my faux paux. "I am. I graduated in December, but I always planned to come back and attend the Spring Dance and Prom, as well. My boyfriend, Ted, is still here so why wouldn't I?"

Fortunately, I had sufficient tact to not blurt out that I wouldn't have. In the meantime, Amy had tried to duck away from the attention, but had been thwarted by her cousin, Eric, who had playfully hooked her arm in his. "Uh uh, cuz. I have strict orders not to allow you to take off and hide from everyone. So stay out here and talk to people so I can enjoy my date without worrying."

Amy hung her head a bit, but muttered her agreement, "Fine. I'll stay."

Dennis appeared as if by magic and announced, "Forsooth, I will take care of her, knave. After all, I, too, have arrived dateless at this grand event. My lady Amy and I shall keep one another company until the early hour of the morn, whereupon I shall turn back into the mouse that her fairy godmother changed me from."

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Amy's mouth. "Rat."

Dennis put a hand over his heart and pretended to swoon. "Forsooth, I am wounded! The cruel arrows of yon lady hath pierced my heart and I will forever bleed from this grievous wound."

Amy and I shared a look before we both rolled our eyes in a disturbing demonstration of synchronicity. I gave her a last smile before following Chris over to a small cluster of tables that Carlos had commandeered for the entire group. There we all sat down and shared in small talk, no one apparently wanting to be the first person to venture out onto the dance floor. Glancing over at the other side of the gym, I spotted Carla and gave her a quick wave, which she returned before focusing her attention back on the boy she was with.

I was all too soon distracted by the intensity of the bio-electric glow of most of the people present. Others of similar hue dotted the room around me. I still had not solved the mystery, but in my defense I had not really given it all that much thought. Now, though, I silently came up with reasons that a person would have a greater than usual amount of bio-electric energy present in their body.

Of course the first thing I came up with was environmental. I had heard that both the Pelham and Dallon families lived in the same neighborhood. But that didn't account for the others. It could have been because of Arcadia High, but then why weren't any other students affected other than those in our group?

It could also be genetic, but again, that wouldn't explain Carlos and the others. Plus, I vaguely remembered reading somewhere that Amy was adopted. So that probably wasn't it.

I was just facetiously thinking that maybe it really was being a Parahuman that everyone had in common, when I became aware of a disturbance over by the gym door. Most people had started dancing a few minutes ago, while I was lost in my thoughts and the lighting had lowered for a slow song. Fortunately, Chris still hadn't managed to get up the courage to ask me to dance, something which I was praying would continue.

I craned my head that way, trying to see over the handful of other couples still seated, but couldn't really make out much. Then wanting to smack myself, I turned on my Othersight and the entire world came into focus around me. I smiled at being able to do something so amazing.

What I saw, though, promptly wiped the smile off of my face. There was a large group of badly dressed men and women armed with clubs, knives, and the occasional gun about to enter the gym. Leading them was a figure that I instantly recognized accompanied by another hulking one that I didn't, so large it had to bend down low to walk through the hallway.

Skidmark and the Merchants had come to crash the Spring Dance.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 9*: Arc 2: Aiming—203

Arc 2: Aiming—2.03

~~~Railgun~~~

Danny was in the basement. He had finally decided that he was going to fix that damn step out front. For far too long, it had been symptomatic of a bigger problem, the slow, gradual disintegration of his family.

In his heart, he knew that he was the one responsible for the emotional distance between he and his daughter. Annette's death had sent him into a tailspin that he was only just now pulling out from. Life had just been so damn bleak for so long that it was all he could do not to follow his wife into the afterlife.

But he couldn't do that to Taylor. Have her lose two parents in such a short time? She would have been the next one descending if he had done that. Or so Danny told himself.

The harsh reality was that his daughter was a stronger person than he had ever been. He only had to look at how much harder the life that she had to deal with was than his own and how she dealt with it to know that. After all, she had lost not just her mom, but her best friend, who had turned on her, and like all traitors, had used their knowledge to hurt her as badly as possible.

During all of that time, she hadn't had much of father to count upon either. There, he'd said it. He wasn't much of a father. He'd bent, then broken and hit rock bottom.

But he could do better. Danny could be a better man. After all, they were right when they said 'time heals all wounds.' He would always have a hole in his heart, but it wasn't nearly as large as it had once been, the edges closing up slightly every day.

To be honest, Danny worried far more these days about Taylor than about how his own feelings of loss. He wished he could just wave a magic wand and regain the closeness he had once had with his daughter. But he'd never been nearly as good at the emotional stuff as his deceased wife.

In the last three months since Taylor had gotten out of the hospital, Danny had tried. He'd tried so damn hard to try to get closer to his daughter. But the gap just refused to close. Oh, they had done things together. Meals and movies, talking about their days. He'd told her things that he probably shouldn't have in a effort to find away across, like how the Merchants had been harassing the Dockworkers of late. But he wanted her to know he trusted her.

In return, Taylor hadn't shared anything nearly as earthshaking. She hadn't made herself vulnerable. Danny didn't know what boys she liked at her new school or if she had made any friends, other than someone named 'Chris', who'd been mentioned a time or two.

Even the dance she'd gone to tonight she'd ridden the bus to, not wanting to 'bother' him. Danny didn't even know if she had a date, as Taylor had been a bit evasive on the subject. Somehow, he needed to figure out a way to get past his daughter's defenses.

Danny had thought about the situation and how to handle things. He knew pressuring Taylor was the wrong way to go about things. His little girl was one of the most stubborn people he knew, something she got from both him and her mother. So he would need to just carry on, chip away at the block between them, until, like water, he wore it away.

He shook his head at the dramatic turn of his thoughts. He'd come down here to the basement looking for a hammer and nails to nail the new board he'd bought in place once he pulled off the old one. Looking around, Danny noticed that things had been moved around a bit since the last time he had come down here.

It was odd. Taylor must have been the one to move things around, even though she had never been someone who liked to come down here, considering it too dirty and disorganized. Amused, Danny realized that she was exactly like her mother in that respect.

Feeling his boot skid on something, Danny glanced down, spotting the broken pieces of concrete. He immediately felt an intense concern. If there was a problem with the structure of the house, it would be hell to fix. Since the settlement, he could afford it, but it was the last thing he wanted to spend the money on.

Danny glanced around the basement, noticing that there was no obvious source for the broken pieces of concrete on the floor. So he decided to investigate further. Moving stuff around, he check the floors and walls until he found the problem.

He stared at the hole in the concrete of the basement wall, its edges blackened and almost... melted? What the hell could have done this? There wasn't a single piece of equipment down here even remotely capable of doing something like that. Plus, there weren't any power lines running inside or behind the wall, the only other thing he could think of as a cause.

Grabbing his pocket knife, he dug around in the hole, finding little melted bits of shiny metal, almost as if the wall had been shot. But he didn't own a firearm. Plus, while he didn't know that much about guns, he was pretty sure no ordinary pistol had done this. If this was all that remained of a bullet, it would have had to hit the wall a lot harder than a pistol round.

Truthfully, Danny couldn't remember the last time he had seen something as odd as this. Maybe down at work? Then something occurred to him. He'd seen the aftermath of a cape fight between Empire 88 and the Teeth back when he had been a lot younger. The Parahumans who had fought had created all kinds of bizarre effects, their powers seeming to-

Danny felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. Then he shook his head. He wouldn't believe that. He couldn't. Taking one final look around the basement, he forced himself to continue his search for a hammer and nails.

After all, Taylor was gone for the rest of the evening to her dance and wouldn't get back until around her curfew at ten thirty. He would talk to her about all of this then. Ask her if something had happened to her. Something that she needed to tell him. And more than anything in his entire life, he prayed that she would tell him the truth.

~~~Railgun~~~

This was bad. Like epic bad. I didn't know what to do. If I tried to alert everyone, I would not only likely out myself, but cause a panic. I felt paralyzed by indecision. Ten seconds later, my indecision no longer mattered.

Screams rang out around me, as debris hurled itself into the room. I rose to my feet and immediately saw the source of the fast moving objects.

Skidmark had painted the area in front of the double doors of the gymnasium with his power. How many layers, I had no idea. But it was enough that when the members of his gang began throwing things into the room, they were accelerated to more than ten times their earlier velocity.

Worse, the things that they were throwing weren't anything I would have expected. Instead of bullets or bombs, they were throwing some of the most disgusting things I had ever seen. The reek of human feces exploded into the room as a gang member emptied a five gallon bucket of what could only be actual shit onto the barrier, the material exploding across the room to impact the far wall, as well as everyone and everything in between.

I was about to step forward to try to deal with this, fumbling in my pocket for change, when I was almost pulled off my feet by a hand yanking on my arm.

Chris hissed at me from where he'd ducked down behind the table, "Taylor! Get down! You could get hit!" With a quick jerk, he managed to get the table turned on its side, a shield against further debris.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What could I say? That I was a hero and needed to go out and battle villains? Instead, I managed, "We need to get out of here. It's the Merchants attacking us."

Chris nodded back. "Come with me. I'll help get you to the other doors. Dean is out there leading some of the other girls."

I nodded, but wondered where the hell Carlos and Dennis had disappeared to? Suddenly there were screams again, but these weren't of excitement and fear. These were of pain, of sudden agony so intense it almost stole your breath until it exploded out from you in a cascading wave of sound.

Shaking off Chris' hand, I turned back around and peered over the edge of the table. Oh those evil fucks. Those monsters.

Even as I watched, I saw what had just happened repeat itself. Over the blue bands that Skidmark had laid down, I saw Mush push out his arms, allowing the glow there to strip the material from them and hurl it forward into the gym and the defenseless students there.

Worse, while Mush usually used ordinary trash to create his outer form, this time, he'd apparently used a lot of broken glass and shattered bricks. So the debris shooting out from his form was razor sharp, jagged and hard, moving at well over two hundred miles an hour.

Even as I watched, I saw another person mowed down, a blonde girl who had tried to reach cover behind some overturned tables. Shrieking in agony, she collapsed to the ground, curled up into a ball in a futile effort to protect herself, the white bodice of her dress turning crimson.

A few seconds later, another student, a boy this time, was hammered as he tried to help her. He fell behind some tables, beaten and bloody, his face a mask of red. Taking a deep breath, I knew I had to do something.

The Merchants needed to be stopped. But if I attacked them, Chris would see. Plus, there were tons of people getting hurt. They needed help. Torn between the choice of trying to stop the Merchants or the students who had been hurt, I hesitated for one fateful second. Then I darted forward right into the worst of the fire, trying to get to the still screaming girl.

Distantly, I heard Chris shout out in alarm behind me, then I was getting brutally pelted by debris, none of it metallic. Nothing I could stop. I was completely unable to be protect myself using my power, only the metallic shirt and pants keeping me from getting flayed alive. Against the impacts, all I could do was to stiffen the material with my power, struggling not to set off coronal discharges.

Something sharp tore into my arm, as I desperately struggled to protect my face and head as best I could. A cut I could likely survive, no matter how nasty, but having a piece of broken brick hit me in the head at two hundred miles an hour could kill me.

Another hit to my other arm by what felt like a jagged rock, tore a cry of pain from me, then I was beside the girl. Kneeling down, I wrapped my arms around her. Then I used my power to half lift my body, my metal clothing allowing me to stagger to my feet, then 'run' rapidly across the gym to collapse in a tangle behind the sheltering tables there.

A voice cried out, "Oh My God! Kelly! Kelly, are you okay?" as hands struggled to free her from my embrace.

Briefly, I closed my eyes as I wished that someone would be equally concerned for me, but knew it wouldn't change anything. Opening them, I saw two people crouched over the sobbing girl I had just rescued. The first, her dark eyes streaming tears, looked almost hysterical. The other, the one who had spoken, looked scared, but had at least a little composure about her.

"Hey!"

Three pairs of eyes turned my way, but I focused upon the brunette who had spoken. Quickly, I asked, "Can you get her out the back door? I need to try to get back to see if I can help any others."

When no one spoke, I lost patience and grabbed the second girl and shook her. Urgently, I shouted, "Answer me!"

"Yes. I-I'll h-help her. W-we'll help her."

"Good. Get her out of here."

The din in the gymnasium had only grown as the hail of debris continued. Added to it was the kaleidoscope of colors from the mirror ball overhead, as well as the beams of light that were likely emanating from New Wave, who had turtled up near the middle of one side of the gym, likely behind Eric's shields. The final annoyance was the music, still blaring out over the speaker system, though the only dancers were those moving in agony. It made the scene an utterly confusing mess, even to my sight.

I tried to see if I could spot any Wards, who were supposed to go to school here. Shouldn't they be here to stop things like this from happening? Come to think of it, where was Victoria? As Glory Girl, she should be effectively immune to being injured by the Merchants' rain of debris. A sudden enormously loud thrumming sound thundered through the air, and a form that could only be Victoria blew through the one wall of the gym, then right out the other side, high up near the roof.

So much for help, I thought. Fuck! I had no idea if Victoria was okay. She might be hurt. Or even dead. With no other heroes here, that left it up to me.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden splattering of something incredibly nasty over the wall above and behind the table, and I fought my rising gorge as the fetid smell of rotten meat hit my nostrils. I gagged, and had to will myself not to vomit, something the more hysterical of the two girls didn't manage, the contents of her stomach joining the rest of the mess on the floor.

It was as much to escape the sounds and smells of her vomiting as it was to help a boy who was curled up, hugging a folding chair to his body, that made me move, launching myself back out into the maelstrom.

Ducking and weaving in a likely futile attempt to protect myself, I made it to an overturned table not far from where the boy's body lay.

The boy, blood slicking down his brown hair, was stuck out at the edge of the dance floor, too far away from cover to risk moving. The chair he so desperately clutched had already likely saved his life, its surface dented from myriad impacts.

Metal, it was something I could grasp with my power. But I could not count on the boy being able to hold onto to it if I jerked it from his arms. Or for him to survive much longer if he got hit by something bigger. No, I needed to get to him.

Grabbing my own chair from among several that had fallen, I used it to protect my head and arms, crawling across the floor as best I could. I was getting continually pelted by hard chunks of various substances, but was able to reinforce my clothing enough to keep it from bruising me too badly. The chair was doing its job of keeping my arms and head safe, but I'd taken several additional hits on my fingers, and blood was streaming down from them and adding to what was already covering my arms.

It took a minute or two, even with my power aiding my waddle, but I made it to the boy. Putting my head next to his ear, I spoke as clearly as I could, "I'm here to help you. Can you move?"

"My l-leg... it can't take any weight. I think something's bad wrong. It hurts so much! Shit!"

Huddling behind our two shields, I used my sight to take a look at his leg. It was fucked. There was a big piece of glass sticking out of his hamstrings and it had likely severed something important. Hot, sticky blood covered everything, making me wonder if he was going to bleed to death. Certainly, there was no way he was going to be walking out of there on his own.

Although maybe he could do it with my help.

"You're going to have to keep us from getting killed by this stuff while I help you up. Can you do that?"

Upon his nod, I slid an arm around his waist. I managed to partially pick him up, just as I had with the girl earlier, but the boy was a lot heavier. Thank God for working out, otherwise I would never have been able to move him at all.

Of course I had to count upon him to shield us while I was doing the lifting and moving. Unfortunately, though, he wasn't doing a very good job, likely distracted by his own pain, and I was jolted by a hit to my face, narrowly missing my right eye. I ducked my head, pressing my face against his side, which helped just a little. Fortunately, my sight could actually see right past the boy's body to where we were going.

I was also keeping a wary eye on the gym doors. Which is why I immediately saw what the Merchants were about to do.

They had a big box of nails, the long, commercial types that roofers used. Three inches long, one end a sharp point and the other end a nice flat spot to hit, they would hurt people badly if they were unleashed onto Skidmark's bands. They might even kill.

I could stop them. I knew that I could. But if I did let go, here in the gym, even with all of the chaos going on and everyone huddling behind cover, I could kiss the idea of having a secret identity down the toilet.

Suddenly, an idea of how to handle things occurred to me. Then I no longer had time to think about things like choice as the nails hit the blue zone and shot outward like bullets fired from a gun.

~~~Railgun~~~

Skidmark grinned cruelly, his eyes drinking in the chaos of the assault. He was watching things from the safety of the doors opposite the first set where he'd laid down his bands. He'd done the same thing here that he had done over there, laying his blues down in a convex semi-circle so that things that landed in it blasted out into the large space beyond, hitting everyone and everything within.

The only safety for those inside had lain at the corners closest to the doors, but by laying out more bands here, he'd eliminated that. With amusement, he noticed that a few of the teens inside were forted up behind two sets of tables, one facing each main exit. Their sobs and cries were music to his ears, soothing his battered ego. He'd pelted them with shit and rotted food, as well as glass and worse. They'd never be able to lord it over him and his again.

He shouted, "Look at that cock-gargler run! Run, fucker, run! Woot!"

Pointing and laughing at a desperate teen scrambling for cover, Skidmark thought about just how well things had gone so far. Any Wards here were either already down or focused upon rescuing others. He thought he'd seen Cocksucker out there, freezing shit and trying to save people, but it was difficult to say in the chaos of the fight.

Those asshats from New Wave, minus Glory Hole, were huddled behind some shields one of them had thrown up. That cunt had taken off to try to lay the smack down on Mush, who had managed to knock her flying twice, using a large piece of steel I-beam, which Skidmark had seen while running around the gym to get to this side.

The ultimate plan had been to lure her to where Squealer's truck was hidden, and then blast the shit outta her with his girl's new boomer, something that he was pretty sure had already occurred a few minutes ago. After all, he'd heard the huge thrumming sound of her gun, almost like the biggest base guitar in the world, accompanied by a blonde meteor blasting completely through the gym. He'd almost fallen over, he'd laughed so hard at the sight. Bitch got boomed!

Skidmark almost started laughing again, just thinking about it. He was just about to call for everyone to retreat as the Protectorate shitholes would be here soon enough, when the lights inside the gym suddenly went out, all of them flaring brightly before exploding in a flash of sparks. The blaring music also stopped, and in the sudden silence, the screams of the wounded sounded much louder than before.

Just as he was wondering if that had been caused by something his boys had shot inside, there was a flash of light from somewhere in the middle of the gym that practically lit up the entire world, accompanied by fresh screams of agony. Unable to see what was going on because of the spots in his eyes, Skidmark roared, "Let's go, you fucktards! Get a move on, pansy-asses!"

Getting to the truck, Skidmark did a quick headcount while he waited. He was three people short and a lot of the rest were bleeding, grunting and groaning in pain. All of the injured were from the other side of the room from where he'd stood. Despite wondering what the fuck had happened over at the other doors, he didn't hesitate. "Let's go, Squeals! Invis us and get us tha fuck outta here!"

The world around him shimmered slightly, and he knew they were fading away. Then the truck beneath him lurched into motion and they were off!

Laughing maniacally as the wind dried the sweat streaming down his face, Skidmark felt himself swell with a new sense of triumph. Tonight, they had counted coup. They'd embarrassed the Wards. They'd embarrassed New Wave. They'd poked a thumb into the eye of the Protectorate and told those shitheels to go fuck themselves. They had shown of the other gangs of this city that they were for goddamned real.

Sitting back against the windshield of the truck, he banged its hood hard with the palm of his hand over and over again. Then he took a hit off the crack pipe that someone from above him passed down. Sucking in the potent fumes, all Skidmark could think of was that life was good.

~~~Railgun~~~

It felt like the world was moving in slow motion as I watched that box of nails approaching the floor. I knew what I had to do, no matter the consequences. So drawing upon the huge well of power within myself, I flared my electromagnetic powers as intensely as I was able, though trying to somehow limit the effects to just the gym.

It was called an EMP. Electromagnetic pulse. One of the earliest man-made examples had been experienced while detonating an atomic bomb as a result of the Compton Effect. The resulting electrons ionized from atoms in the atmosphere had traveled downwards at almost relativistic speeds before encountering the Earth's magnetic field and being deflected at a right angle to the field. This interaction had produced a very large, but very brief, electromagnetic pulse over the affected area.

There were others forms of EMP, but this was the one that I was worried most about producing. While only a little dangerous in and of itself, the greatest peril of an EMP lay in its effects upon unshielded electronic devices, ranging from computer chips to electrical circuits to power transformers.

All would be damaged, shorted out or outright destroyed, by an EMP. That was exactly what happened to the electronics within the gymnasium, from the lights to the sound system to any cell phones present within. All of them shorted out in a sudden cascade of sparks.

In the sudden darkness, I collapsed to the ground with a pretend cry of pain, while trying not to further injure the boy I was helping. As I lay there, I pushed my power out from me like mad, creating half a dozen enormous flares, each with their own massive streamers of coronal discharge danced outward. Individually the streamers were so bright they should blind anyone looking towards them.

Twisting my power like mad, I managed to center those thirty feet to one side and higher in the air. I then reached out with magnetic waves toward the gym doors, but didn't reach them in time to stop the sudden influx of nails. They shot out into the darkness of the gymnasium, each nearly as lethal as a bullet and traveling over two hundred miles an hour.

To me, neither the blinding flare of my power nor the darkness mattered. I could feel every single nail as they darted through the air, disturbing the waves of electromagnetic force I was emitting. These, I could grasp with my power, stopping them instantly, some just short of vulnerable, human flesh. Staring back at the doorway from whence they'd come, I pulled as much power into myself as my body could contain. Then I let it go, struggling to direct the coronal effects into the same areas as before.

The clench of release hurt, almost as if it was tearing something deep inside of me. Simultaneously, a lash of my power ripped through Skidmark's bands, shattering them just as it had two weeks before, and allowing me to blast all of the nails back through the exposed space.

Not a railgun blast, the nails were still moving with more than twice the velocity with which they'd entered the gym. I felt them zip into wood and concrete, ricochet off of steel, as well as finding the tender, human flesh of my targets. Aghast, but with a dark sense of satisfaction, I watched as two bio-electrical fields by the doors just ceased, their light forever gone from the universe.

I struggling to rise, to help the boy beside me back up, as I considered what I had just done. Oddly, I seemed to have all the time in the world to think and act as the world around me seemed to be moving in slow motion. Fighting weakness, I managed to lift the boy and get him moving. I could see the clusters of bio-electric glows by each exit running off into distance, then disappearing abruptly from my sight.

Discreetly, I managed to reach out to the bands at the other door, and shatter them as well, even as I settled the boy down not far from where the New Wave kids huddled, protecting another group of teens. However, the effort it took was startlingly, and I felt darkness creeping up on me. Fortunately, a few minutes later, someone wearing a dark costume took the boy from me and started doing first aid on him.

For me, time seemed to stand still as I knelt there on the floor, my pulse beating in my head, while shivers of reaction shook my body violent. I lost almost all sensation as my vision grayed out, just barely conscious of the world around me.

The next thing I was aware of was Chris kneeling next to me, Amy at his side. He was saying something about lost blood that I couldn't really focus on. Then Amy said something else while holding my hand, which I nodded stupidly at, although I didn't really understand what I was agreeing to as the world around me was going in and out of focus.

Then like a bucket of ice water, feeling returned to my body while awareness flooded my mind. I gasped as Amy released my hand, moving on to the boy that I had saved. What the fuck had she done? Healed me?

Under the blood, the skin of my arms was now unmarked. Plus my face no longer hurt where I'd taken the blow near my eye. Tentatively touching myself there, I found the skin unmarked, if still sticky with drying blood. So Amy had healed me.

I finally was able to focus on what Chris was saying from where he knelt next to me. "-can't believe you did that! Are you crazy? You could have been killed! Taylor, what were you thinking?"

What had I been thinking? That I could help people. Yes, that was it. And I had. I had personally saved two people who might have died, as well as a lot more who might have been killed by those nails. I had done it without outing myself. Maybe. I'd killed the lights, after all. After that, the flare I'd created had been deliberately blinding, designed to make anyone looking my way see nothing but afterimages.

Then I saw something that froze the blood in my veins. A boy in a white costume, covered in clocks with hands that were spinning and moving. A boy whose bio-electric glow I recognized. A boy whose name was Dennis Meechum, one of Chris' friends. What the hell was Dennis doing wearing Clockblocker's costume?

When I finally truly understood, the world did more than gray out, instead going completely black.

~~~Railgun~~~

Danny darted around the scattered emergency vehicles, dodging police and PRT personnel, looking for his daughter. All around him, injured teens were being tended to by EMTs and other emergency personnel. But he didn't see Taylor anywhere.

In an oasis of order amid the chaos, he saw a couple of Wards, Clockblocker and Aegis, recognizable by their bright uniforms, talking to another cape who he couldn't immediately put a name to. A second later, it came to him. Assault, a member of the Protectorate.

All of these heroes here and yet they hadn't been able to protect his daughter and her friends. What should have been a fun-filled night for these children had been turned into a horror story. As Danny watched, an ambulance roared away in a blaze of lights and blaring sirens, carrying its precious cargo away for needed attention.

"Dad?"

Turning, Danny saw his daughter sitting among another group of teens, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, while a boy lingered far too close. Hesitantly, she stood up, her eyes huge as she stared back at him. Where were her glasses? All questions fell away as he lunged forward, wrapping long arms around her waist, crushing her slim form against him.

There was an 'oof' from the teen in his arms, and in a muffled, but reproachful voice, Taylor muttered, "You're squashing me."

"I don't care."

Danny squeezed his daughter like her life depended upon it, only releasing her when she poked him a couple of times in the side. Pushing her back to arms length, he carefully inspected his daughter. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is that blood?"

Taylor looked utterly shell-shocked as she nodded. "I'm okay, Dad. I got hurt a little, but Amy healed me."

Danny stood there, still inspecting his daughter but not seeing any injuries to account for the blood covering her skin and clothing. Finally, not knowing what else to say, he asked, "Amy?"

Taylor hooked a desultory thumb over her shoulder, her eyes looking almost glazed. "Victoria's sister. Amy Dallon. New Wave."

Danny stared at the pretty blond girl who had also stood up, her eyes red from crying. The boy next to her had his arm around her waist. Both of them were practically covered in blood. Horrified, he asked, "Are you two all right?"

Victoria Dallon, Glory Girl Danny's mind screamed inside his head, nodded her head jerkily. "We're okay. My sister healed Dean here already. All of this blood is his. I didn't get hurt."

Of course. Danny had read that Glory Girl was a powerful Brute who not only could fly, but was almost impossible to hurt. Regardless, her hair was more than a little bedraggled, falling in strands down from some fancy earlier hairstyle.

Danny's eyes turned to the last boy, the one who had been inside of Taylor's personal space. A few inches under six foot, he didn't look like he'd grow much taller. Intelligent gray eyes in a thin face under a mop of brown hair stared back at Danny as the older man took in his appearance. The boy's clothes were tattered, a once nice, long-sleeved button up shirt now torn and stained with blood, while his dark slacks were stained and had holes in both knees. Not a particularly impressive specimen, he decided.

Danny's opinion of the boy went up a notch, when he stepped forward with his hand out. "Hello, Mr Hebert. My name is Chris Matthews. I was your daughter's date at the dance."

So this was Chris. In his relief, Danny cut the boy some slack, allowing a small smile to crease his lips. He shook the boy's hand. "Danny Hebert. It's nice to meet you, Chris. Thank you for taking care of my daughter."

In front of Danny, Taylor and Chris exchanged a quick glance, full of nuance, before Chris nodded. "Yes, sir. I was happy to, sir."

The boy with Victoria Dallon stepped forward as well, introducing himself as, "Dean Stansfield, sir."

Danny in turn introduced himself. Then he asked, "Can I give any of you a ride home? I can't help but think that your parents must be worried. Also, ahh... Victoria? Is your sister around? I'd like to thank her for helping my daughter."

Victoria shook her head. "No, Mr Hebert, she's not. Amy already left for the hospital after stabilizing the worst cases. She's going to work herself half to death trying to heal as many people as possible tonight and over the next couple of days."

Nodding, Danny said, "I understand. But when she's done, you're both coming over for a thank you dinner. I can't tell you how much I appreciate everyone looking after Taylor." There was that strange look again, as Victoria met Taylor's eyes, then looked away. What the heck was that about, he wondered? Danny hesitated a moment, then asked, "What about that ride?"

Victoria shook her head, while next to her, Dean said, "No thank you, sir. Victoria's my ride home. I already called my parents and let them know I'm okay and that I'll be home soon."

Chris also shook his head. "My dad's on his way. He should be here soon."

"I'll wait for him to get here, then."

It was Dean who said, "You don't have to. Victoria and I'll stay until Chris' dad gets here."

Danny almost argued, but the handsome boy's calm dissuaded him. Plus, there was no way he could say that the boy was safer with him rather than one of the most powerful Parahuman heroes in the city. He thanked the teens once more, then putting an arm around Taylor's shoulder, guided her past the police lines. She seemed strangely compliant, almost in a state of shock.

Once they got to the car, he opened the door for her. But before she could get in, Danny pulled in her into another smothering hug. This one she returned fully, almost a desperation in the way she held onto him. Finally, though, he let her go and Taylor, in turn, released her death grip on his neck.

He shut the door behind her and circled around to the other side of the car, getting in. Looking over at Taylor as he put the key into the ignition, Danny said, "Let's go home, kiddo."

Taylor sighed, tiredness and something more visible in her eyes. "Okay."

On the drive home, the two of them kept a companionable silence between them. Danny felt like they were being chased by ghosts, though, as distant sirens constantly rent the air, an accompanying aria all the way to their front door.

Within the car, the charnel reek of dried blood and vomit suffused the space and Danny wondered if it would ever fade away. He'd noticed earlier that his daughter had not only been hurt, based on the traces of blood upon her skin, but had thrown up, vomit and worse visible on her clothes. He couldn't imagine what she had gone through. In his heart, Danny asked himself if there would ever be a way to make this right.

As they walked into the kitchen, Danny said, "Why don't you go get cleaned up, kiddo? Put on your PJ's and I'll make you a cup of hot tea."

There was a droop in her shoulders as she said, "If that's your way of telling me I stink, Dad, I agree. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Danny felt an overpowering tenderness sweep through him as he watched his daughter slowly trudge upstairs. His daughter, who was alive, and who was going to be okay. He had to tell himself that, reassure himself against the fears and doubts that had plagued him all evening.

His daughter, who might, or might not, be a Parahuman.

~~~Railgun~~~

AN: Next chapter, more fallout and reaction from Taylor regarding the lives she took. More Danny and Chris. PRT reactions. And more PHO as well.

*Chapter 10*: Arc 2: Aiming—204

Arc 2: Aiming—2.04

AN: Okay, I finished the rewrite of the previous Arcs. Whew. So reread them if you want. If you don't, it shouldn't be that big of a deal. Minor confusion only. On to the story.

~~~Railgun~~~

I finally finished showering and changed into my PJ's after I dried off. I felt incredibly tired and not just from the fight tonight. Mostly, I just wanted to go to bed after drinking my tea.

Fortunately, Dad had come through. He had a cup of hot tea already set up, Earl Grey, my favorite. I added some milk and honey and stirred it. Taking a sip, I sighed deeply. "Thanks, Dad."

He gave me a warm smile from where he sat across from me. "You're welcome, kiddo. Feeling better?"

I nodded. "I'm good. Just very tired."

"I can understand why."

We both sipped our tea in companionable silence. After a few minutes had passed, my cup was almost empty. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure thing, Taylor. You can talk to me about anything."

Could I? What I wanted to talk to Dad about was being a Parahuman. It had been something that had been on my mind for some time. I'd waffled back and forth about telling him for the last two months, mainly because I worried about how he would react. I wasn't sure I could take it if he rejected me.

But I didn't know how to start. Should I just come out and say, "Hey, Dad, I'm a Parahuman now. What do you think?"

Somehow, I didn't think so. Then my thoughts come to an utter stop as Dad took a piece of blackened concrete out from behind his back and set it on the coffee table between the two of us. Quietly, he asked, "Does it have anything to do with this?"

I am sure that I must have looked like a fish right then, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly. But what the hell could I say? In the end, what came out was, "You knew? How long?"

It sounded a lot more accusing that I mean it to, but Dad didn't look upset. Instead, he looked surprisingly calm. "Not long. Really just today. Plus, I didn't really know, I only suspected. Although it might be better to say I feared."

Beginning to tremble, I said, "Now you know."

He nodded. "Now I know. At least, I think I do. Taylor, are you a Parahuman?"

I was trembling so badly by now that it was all I could do to nod. I couldn't get the words out for a yes to accompany it. That's when Dad got up from his chair and sat down on the couch next to me. He put his arm around me in a one-armed hug and squeezed hard. It helped a lot. As did putting my arms around his torso to hug him back.

I had my face pressed against his shirt at the shoulder, making my words muffled. "Dad, I'm a Parahuman."

We stayed that way for a while, neither of us speaking. Finally, though, I pulled back just a little, to look up at his face. Dad wore a look of caring on his face, but there were new lines around his eyes and mouth, and they weren't from laughter. I muttered, "I'm sorry."

He sighed heavily. "It's not your fault, Taylor. If anything, it's mine."

I argued, "No, it's not."

"Taylor, I don't know that much about capes, but I do know that people get powers when they go through something bad." He hesitated, then seemed to steel himself. "Was it the locker?"

Wordlessly, I nodded. Then, in a rush of words, I explained, "I was locked in there and suddenly I was able to open the lock. But then I was so out of it that I ended up walking into traffic."

"And was taken to the hospital."

Dad seemed to mull over both of our words. Finally, he asked, "So, kiddo, what can you do?"

For the first time since prior to the dance the evening before, I smiled. It was a shaky one, but it was there. "Dad, I can do so many things."

~~~Railgun~~~

As Danny listened to his daughter talk about electromagnetism and all of its uses in day to day life, as well as all of the hundred and one things she'd figured out what to do with it, he couldn't help but worry. His little girl, a Parahuman. Before, it had been just a suspicion, but now he knew for sure.

Unfortunately, knowing didn't give him any sense of closure as the daytime therapists all seemed to always talk about. Instead, it only made him more worried. Not the least because Taylor's power sounded like a strong one. Strong enough to draw the interest of others who would want to recruit her.

He was a little surprised that she hadn't already been approached. Then when she got to the part where she explained that she had only been out officially as a hero twice, he began to understand. Not nearly enough time or frequency. No one had managed to catch up to her yet, neither the villains, nor the nominal heroes.

The truth was, Danny didn't want his daughter working for either set. While he certainly didn't want her becoming a villain and breaking the law, the thought of her joining the Protectorate and the Wards wasn't much more palatable. He'd heard too much about what happened even to the underage capes who ideally were supposed to be protected and nurtured by the Protectorate, but instead were thrown into Endbringer fights when the situation demanded it.

Oh it was supposed to be just as volunteers, but he already knew just how specious something like that was. Give a child a group of friends, have them train and fight alongside them, build the bonds of love and loyalty, then ask for volunteers when an emergency occurred. If one went, they all went. It wasn't something he wanted for his daughter.

Then something she said registered with him and he asked, "So you can make metallic cloth which you're making into clothing?"

Taylor nodded shyly, her expression earnest. "Yes, I'm working with Parian to make clothing from it, like tops, skirts, and dresses. We were going to start selling them this Friday, the fifteenth, in her shop over on Broadway and Main."

Danny nodded. Haltingly, he asked, "Is... that something that you want to do with your powers?"

Taylor looked momentarily unsure, then slowly nodded. "Yes. At least I think I do. I mean, why not make money from powers if you can? Parian explained it to me; what she does, I mean, and it sounded good."

Feeling like a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, Danny asked, "So you can focus on this, then? Being a clothing manufacturer? Instead of going out and risking your life?"

Taylor went still, her eyes almost opaque. Finally, she asked in a small voice, "Will you be mad if I do go out anyway? Because I still want to be a hero."

"Have you considered the risks, Taylor? And I don't just mean from getting into fights with other capes. I mean the risks you're going to have to deal with from other groups wanting to recruit you, both villains and heroes. And the villains, at least, won't take no for an answer. Worse, the heroes are almost as bad. They'll try to use every trick in the book to force you into the Wards. I mean, the first time you so much as put one toe over the line, they'll be there putting pressure on you to... what's wrong, Taylor?"

Next to him Taylor had gone completely still still, her face as white as a sheet. Her gaze was a million miles away, as if picturing something so distant that it drew every last bit of her attention. Then her eyes slowly cleared, her mind back in the here and now. It was also when his daughter spoke the words that no father ever wanted to hear.

"Dad, I might be trouble. Really bad trouble."

Alarm bells sounded in Danny's mind. For just a second, he wondered if he was going to have to kill that boy Chris. Pulling back a little, he asked, "What's going on, Taylor?"

Taylor's face looked like she was about to cry. Agony shone from her eyes. She shook her head, refusing to speak. Danny pulled her back into the hug, stroking her back as she began to cry.

Over the next half hour, Taylor cried her heart out on his shoulder, great tearing sobs like the ones from when she'd lost her mother. Whatever it was that had happened tonight, she appeared to be agonizing over it. Finally, though, her tears ceased, the shaking of her body easing.

Danny gave her time to blow her nose and wipe her face. Finally, though, he sat back down with her. "Tell me what happened, Taylor."

Taylor looked at him, her eyes deep pools of sorrow. "I'm pretty sure I killed two people tonight, Dad."

To Danny, it felt like a punch to the gut. But this was his daughter. He believed in her and in her choices. She must have had a reason. Oh, God, but he hoped that she had a reason.

Trying to hide the trembles in his voice, Danny asked, "What happened?"

It took nearly as long to pull the entire story out of his daughter as it had taken her to get her tears out, but in the end, Danny knew everything that Taylor did. Or so he hoped. Because if he did have the complete information, it painted his daughter in a far better light than he'd feared.

"Is that everything, Taylor?"

She nodded. "What should I do, Dad? Am I a monster?"

He quickly reassured her. "No. You're not a monster. You're a person who did the best they could in a difficult situation. You saved lives. Neither of us believes that they would have stopped at that. They would have put something else down to shoot out into the room, maybe something you couldn't have stopped. More glass or brick or something."

There was a terrible shame in his daughter's face as she met his eyes. "I didn't do it just to stop them. I did it because I was so angry that they had hurt so many people. I wanted to hurt them back. To make them pay. Dad, I don't even feel bad about what I did. What kind of person doesn't feel bad about doing something like that?"

What do you say to that? Danny felt like he'd reached the limit of his knowledge. More than anything he wished that Annette was there at his side to help him because he was terrified that he would say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing. And somehow drive his daughter away, turn her into a villain.

In the end, all he could say was, "I love you. I'm proud of you. Whatever your feelings when you did what you did, it helped people. You did the right thing. No matter how painful it is, you did the right thing. Maybe if you had been older, more experienced, you might have found another way, but you aren't. I encourage you to learn from this and next time, to find another way. But you did your best and that is all that I can ask of you."

Suddenly, he had an armful of daughter. "Dad, I love you. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Danny did his best to try not to squeeze the life out of his daughter, and mostly succeeded, although he did draw a squeak or two from her. He whispered into her ear, "It really is going to be okay, little owl. We're going to figure this out together."

~~~Railgun~~~

The next day dawned bright and sunny, pulling me from my sleep just as early as the day before. I rolled out of bed and started to put on sweats. I was tying my shoe laces before I remembered that I wasn't going running today.

Instead, I'd be heading over the Boat Graveyard with my dad to show him everything that I had done so far on my journey to become a hero. My armor, my workshop, the hold where I trained my power, even the sea water between where I fired off the occasional railgun blast, these were all grist for the mill. I wanted him to see everything that I had done and to be proud of me.

Because I wasn't too proud of myself. Last night, what I had done to those two Merchants hadn't really registered. Not, at least until I got home and started explaining things to Dad. That was when it had hit me.

I had killed two people. Bad people, sure, but human beings. Did they deserve to die? Maybe. But then again, who was I to act as judge, jury, and executioner? I had violated their civil rights at the very least. Almost as bad, if the PRT found out, they might use it to try to force me into the Wards.

I didn't want to join the Wards. Of that I was completely sure. Even if I thought it was likely that I already knew most of them. Dennis was Clockblocker. Carlos was Aegis. That young girl who I'd met weeks ago, Missy, was likely Vista.

Plus, I had already figured out that Sophia Hess was Shadowstalker. It hadn't been hard to make that jump if for no other reason than that both Emma and Madison were still around, while Sophia was not. Add that to the fact that Shadowstalker had been 'transferred' to the Madison Quarantine Zone and it was obvious.

Weeks ago, I had watched several videos of Shadowstalker, where her movements had reminded me eerily of Sophia when she was about to attack me. It had made me sick and angry and I'd been out of sorts for days after.

Who was Chris, then? Was he Kid Win? Or Browbeat? The former seemed unlikely if for no other reason than a Tinker having dyscalculia seemed ironic, while the latter just seemed unlikely. Maybe he wasn't a Ward. Maybe Dean wasn't either. But the brighter bio-electric glows?

Okay, maybe the glows meant something else. Because I still refused to believe Greg was a cape. Plus, there were a far too many other people who displayed the same characteristics, far more than even this crazy city supported.

Then like a light switch being flipped, comprehension dawned. Maybe, the glows weren't showing Parahumans. Maybe they were instead showing people who could become Parahumans. So all the bright glows I saw were people who could become a cape under the right circumstances.

After my own change, I'd looked into what made people capes. All I'd really found was stuff about extreme stress causing someone to become a Parahuman. Another thread had mentioned the 'worst day' of a person's life.

If so, mine had only been second worst, though it might have been the most stressful. Still, I'd trade a year of days in that locker to have my mother back.

Regardless, if I was seeing the potential of Parahumans, then that meant that even Greg could become one. Yikes.

It might also mean that Chris wasn't one. After all, there wasn't any evidence other than he was friends with Carlos and Dennis. Although, he had been surprisingly cool when everything had gone down. A lot cooler than I would have expected a fifteen-year-old boy to be. Not that I was an expert, but most of boys present had scattered like roaches when the Merchants had attacked, most of them not even looking out for their dates, let alone the others around them.

My introspection was interrupted by Dad shouting, "Breakfast's ready, kiddo! Get a move on!"

I got a move on.

Three hours later found the two of us walking into the Boat Graveyard, me toting my backpack and Dad carrying a fishing pole. He'd suggested it as a way to blend in and I'd shrugged and agreed, even if I didn't really see the need for the protective coloration.

"It's this one, Dad."

I'd already taken a look around to make sure no one was near, which they weren't. I immediately scrambled up the rungs of the ladder, waiting while Dad took a while longer. Finally, though, puffing just a little, he arrived on deck.

Dad gave me a quizzical look. "Your secret lair is in a ship?"

"Dad, it's not a secret lair."

As we walked towards the ship's bow, Dad held out a hand, then began counting off fingers. "Let's see, you work on mysterious stuff there. You supposedly have a suit of armor there. You train there. Sounds like a secret lair to me, kiddo."

I muttered, "So not a secret lair."

Okay, maybe in the purest sense my base was a secret lair. But lair sounded like something a villain would have, something which I was not. So I liked to think of it as a base. A secret base.

I hopped over the gap between the ships so much easier now than the when I had first arrived here. Then again, I was in infinitely better shape. Again, Dad went a bit slower, giving the long drop to the water below a wary glance.

Once on the last ship, I led him down the hallways and finally out into the ship's hold where all of my gear lay. I glanced around, trying to see things from his point of view.

The deck beneath our feet was dirty, a fact made abundantly clear by the light coming in through the large hole in the ship's side. Unfortunately, it was the only light within, and while plenty to see most things, it did accentuate the shadows in the corners. Ordinarily, it wasn't something that bothered me since my Othersight saw right through the shadows, but I figured Dad wouldn't be able to see so easily.

Not that it mattered. Dad made a beeline right to the rack that held my armor. The rack was close to the door that we'd just walked through and immediately visible as soon as you stepped through.

Dad took his time examining the suit, fingering the various pieces and even rapping lightly on the breastplate. Nervously, I asked, "What do you think?"

He turned around at the sound of my voice. There was a look on his face that took me a moment to interpret. Then I realized that he was impressed. He waved a hand towards the armor. "Taylor, it's amazing. I can't believe you made all of this. I am curious, though, how you can wear all that. I mean, when you first told me you had a suit of armor, I was picturing something a lot less..."

I filled in the blank. "Medieval knight?"

Dad nodded. "Pretty much. That armor has got to weigh a couple of hundred hundred pounds."

I shook my head. "Actually, try five times that. But I don't use my muscles to carry it. When I put it on, my power supports it. So to me, it's as light as air. Plus the metal floats off my skin just the tiniest bit, which makes taking hits a lot easier. I don't even really get bruised as it's rigid enough to spread the impact out."

Unfortunately, my words made him nervous, which his next question showed. "The armor looks good and solid, but can it really take a hit? I mean, how tough can less than a half inch of steel be compared to what some Parahumans can do?"

"Actually, Dad, it's crazy tough. Let me show you."

I grabbed the face mask with the glass lens that covered a lot of the front. I carried it over to my steel work table, set it on top, then grabbed a steel pry bar that I had found and used my power on. I handed it to my dad, who held it somewhat tentatively, a questioning look on his face.

"Go ahead and give it a whack. Whack it as many times as you want. You'll see."

Dad proceeded to do exactly what I suggested. His first couple of hits were just a little tentative, but the rest were right on target, taking full advantage of the length of his long arms to send the bar whistling through the air. The sound was pretty loud in the mostly enclosed space, but I didn't flinch. Compared to the racket I had made myself, this wasn't even all that bad.

Finally, though, with sweat beading his brow, Dad stopped, setting down the bar. He picked up my mask, rubbing a sleeve over the material to clear away the flakes of metal that lightly covered it. Even the part that was ironglass was completely unmarred.

The surprise in his face when he looked back up made me smile. "I take it that the rest of your armor is just as tough?"

I nodded. He seemed to mull things over, then said, "Go ahead and put it on if you would. Then you can show me what you can do."

For the next hour, that was exactly what I did. I suited up, then proceeded to hover and fly through the ship's hold, moving and manipulating metal, while also sending electrical blasts guided by my electromagnetic fields into targets of both my, and my dad's, choosing.

Finally, I was done and after setting back down, used my power to take off the suit, dressing back in my jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie. I made sure that every piece was back where it belonged, while surreptitiously examining Dad's face. He looked just as tense now as he had earlier. After a moment, he asked, "Is that everything you can do?"

I hesitated a second. Then I shook my head. "No, there's something else I can do."

"Show me."

With trembling fingers, I grabbed a five gram metal round and walked over to the gap that overlooked the waters of the bay. Then I brought up the electromagnetic fields that allowed me to do this. Focusing my power forward, I tossed the round up into the air, then fired it off as soon as it came down.

There was an immediate flash as the round hit hypersonic speeds, then hit the water. The resulting boom and splash were loud and enormous respectively. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dad jump. Apologetically, I muttered, "Sorry."

"What was the hell was that, Taylor?"

I shrugged. "I call it my 'railgun,' which is kind of what it is. A railgun is-"

Dad interrupted me. "I know what a railgun is, kiddo. So you can make a weapon of that magnitude?"

I scuffed the deck with the toe of my sneaker. "I guess?"

Dad pulled me into a hug, which I returned. He breathed, "You're amazing, kiddo. I am so proud of you. Never forget that."

Then he pushed me back enough to be able to look me in the eye. "I'm terrified, though, that you're making yourself a target. What I told you last night is even more true with this level of power. They're all going to want you to join them. Going it alone is going to be tough if you truly want to go out as a hero, instead of sticking to being a rogue, hiding the greater part of your ability, and just selling your clothes."

I took a deep breath. "Dad, you're always talking about doing the right thing. How, if everybody did that, the world would be a much better place than it currently is. Well, the right thing for me is to help people. Protect people from the bad guys. This city would be such a better place if there weren't any gangs. I can help make that happen. I owe it to myself, and everybody else, to do just that."

He looked more than a little regretful. "Oh, kiddo, I wish you hadn't said that. That I hadn't said that. Because all I want to do right now is stick you in a big plastic hamster ball so that the world can't hurt you ever again."

I almost smiled, but it wasn't quite funny enough to break the somber mood, even I did get the reference from that television show from Earth Aleph. Deadpan, I pulled a line from an Earth Aleph show from a few years ago that I'd liked, "Nobody likes a girl in a hamster ball. Dad, I can protect myself. If last night showed anything, it was that."

Dad nodded. Then a look of consideration came over his face. "Okay then, kiddo, you're going to go out to be a hero. But I have some conditions."

Seriously? Dad was onboard? Then I saw the serious look on his face and quickly nodded.

"First, we're going to talk each time before you go out. Plan out what you're going to do and what you hope to accomplish. Second, you're going to get a...″ For a moment, his face twisted. I could see the effort it took to clear it before he continued, ″A cell phone that you can use to call me, or to call the PRT if you make a citizen's arrest. Third, you will stick to making and selling your clothes, so we can find out if it is a viable source of income for you. Fourth, I'll be waiting up for any time you go out to make sure that you get home safe. Fifth-"

I interrupted. "Dad, how many of these conditions are there?" I mean, I didn't mind a few, but this was getting ridiculous. I'd gone out on my own twice now and had been fine.

"Fifth. You're going to come up with a way to keep yourself safe when you're not wearing that armored costume. I don't care what you come up with, even if its means carrying around a pocketful of ball bearings, but you need to be prepared for something like what happened last night, times when you don't have your armor with you. Are we clear?"

I shook my head. ″No, we're not clear. Look, I've got this. I can handle myself out there. I defeated Skidmark and Squealer, then Rune, and then Skidmark again. I don't need...″

Dad looked angry. ″Need what, Taylor? Me? Supervision of any sort? Because I disagree. Someone died, Taylor!″

I started to shake, and felt the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. Suddenly I felt Dad's arms around me again, and hugged him back. I didn't want to fight. But at the same time, this was hard. I'd been taking care of myself for a long time. And while Dad had been doing better for a few months now, we still weren't as close as we'd once been, and I wasn't that little girl who did whatever I was told.

″Look, how about this: let's just try it. If it isn't working, or it's too restrictive, then we can rethink it. I just want you safe. And to be careful. Can you do that for me?″

I hated that Dad was cheating, but nodded. "I can, but there's a problem."

"What's that?"

I took a deep breath. "If I carried a phone, I'd likely zap it by accident. Maybe when I'm better at controlling my abilities, it'll be different, but for now, I'm hell on electronics. Oh... err... sorry."

″All right. Then a pocket full of change so you can call me if there's an emergency.″

At least a little bit of freedom then. I thought I could live with that. Maybe. Aloud, I said, ″Okay.″

I walked over to stare out at the water between the ships, which cast patterns of light over the inside of my base. Or my lair, as Dad called it. A moment later, Dad joined me.

I was just about to thank him for his help and support, when he said, "You know, if you ran some lines around here with maybe a voltage regulator and some bulbs, you could probably use your ability to power some real lights in here."

I couldn't help the chuckle that emerged at that ridiculous thought. Then a moment later, I realized that might actually work. I hugged him hard. "Thanks, Dad."

I was so happy that I didn't even react when he ruffled my hair. "You're welcome, kiddo."

A moment, later, he asked me, ″So have you thought up a cape name yet?″

~~~Railgun~~~

Later that afternoon, I decided to do some work on one of the points that Dad had raised. I had an idea of how to protect myself in my civilian identity, but it was going to take some work.

I went outside and sat down on the ground, using heat induction to take the chill off of me. I had been doing a lot of research on iron. Like how it was the single most abundant element on earth by mass. Abundant enough that it was present in almost everything around me.

Take the tree that shaded part of the back yard during the summer months. It had iron in it. That much I could tell. But what I wasn't sure about was how to get a handle on it.

I was almost sure that I could get it out of the tree if I put it under an intense enough magnetic field. But I wasn't so sure that was a good idea, visions of a tornado of wooden splinters blasting out over the yard. No, I needed a source of iron other than the trees or anything else that was either alive or finished around me.

Staring downward, I realized that meant the ground beneath my feet.

Closing my eyes, I relaxed and let my senses roam. I slowly began to push out a magnetic field that was more and more powerful, extended in a downward direction. It finally reached a fair distance from me, probably at least fifty feet underground. Then I searched for iron.

The next few minutes was... odd. I could feel something ferric, but it was almost slippery, hard to grasp. And I could barely pull any toward me. After several minutes, I only had a tiny cloud of black floating just in front of my nose.

I decided to try increasing the field intensity to make it as strong as I could. To get the full effect, I contracted the area to a sphere less than five feet in diameter located a few feet in front of me. Then I gripped the ferric material that I could feel using magnetism and pulled as hard as I could upon it.

The ground in front of me erupted, a shower of dirt and mud landing all around me, as well as all over me. Chagrined, I used the underside of my hoodie's sleeve, which was still mostly clean, to begin wiping off my face, which was covered in mud.

Five minutes of cleanup later, I was ready to try something different.

Over the next ten minutes, I tried several different techniques, learned through hard work over the past few months, but none proved effective in harvesting the unrefined iron around me. Then I had an idea.

I could feel individual grains of ferric material scattered all over my range. It was getting them out of the ground which was the hard part. So I focused on each grain, and after a few seconds, nearly released my larger, more powerful, magnetic field completely. That was when I sent a hundred tiny fields after individual grains of iron, then a thousand, then as many as I could, gathering the grains all around me.

Gasping for breath, I opened my eyes, conscious of the mud and sweat mixed together over my skin. Hovering in front of me was a small gathering of ferrous grains, about enough to fill half a quarter cup. I formed them into a variety of shapes in the air from a fork to a watch to a cell phone.

They didn't look like much, but with enough of them I could probably make nearly anything. I formed a tiny sword, then laughed, as it was far too small to do anything with. But it could grow, as I slowly mastered this technique.

Although until I did, I was going to go with my dad's suggestion of carrying around ball bearings. A handful of those would put a hurting on pretty much anyone. And I would practice gathering iron... sand daily. Iron sand. Liking the ring of the name, I made a mental note to write it down later in my powers journal.

With visions of fighting with a sword or club made from iron sand dancing through my mind, I headed back inside to start dinner.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 11*: Arc 2: Aiming—205

Arc 2: Aiming—2.05

~~~Railgun~~~

On Monday, I went back to school like normal, even though it felt anything but normal. Everyone's attitude was surprisingly upbeat, but there was an odd, almost manic energy coursing through the student body.

Thinking about it, I finally attributed it to both relief at surviving, as well as an initial realization of mortality, something that most people our age just didn't have. I think that I might already have it, as I didn't really feel that different, but it was surprisingly hard to analyze oneself.

I'd seen Chris already once today, but had managed to avoid him as I really didn't want to talk to him. So before he could spot me, I'd ducked into a random classroom until I saw his bio-electric signature walk past. Then I'd headed on to my next class.

"Hey, Taylor."

I spun, mortified that I had been caught unawares. Weakly, I managed, "Hey, Carla. How are you feeling?"

The girl in question looked a bit pale, the empty look in her eyes nothing like the merry, energetic girl I knew her to be. Still, she managed a faint smile. "I'm as good as can be expected. I mean, I wasn't hurt in the attack like a lot of people. My date though, got hurt pretty bad. But Panacea healed him."

"That's good."

Her eyes grew to contain another emotion, not one that I recognized. "Taylor... I heard about what you did."

Stupidly, I asked, "What I did?"

"Running out there and helping that girl Kelly. Then you did it again after you were already hurt. I don't remember the boy's name."

I murmured, "Brandon Caruthers." I only knew it because the boy had been one of the people healed by Panacea on site, even before I was, and had been waiting to thank me for helping him.

I'd been worried at first that he knew about what I had done using my powers. What the PHO message boards were calling Tesla's Retaliation. Apparently that was the code name the PRT had assigned me some time ago. I wasn't sure about it, but I was finding myself liking it more than Electra these days.

But Brandon had shown no signs that he thought that it was me who had caused the light display. He mentioned it, but only in passing, saying just how out of it he was and that he actually thought it was all in his head at the time.

Realizing I'd missed something that Carla had said, I quickly murmured, "Excuse me?"

"I said, don't ever do that again. I know that you were wearing that crazy metal clothing that Parian makes, but you still got hurt bad. I saw you before they hustled the uninjured students out of there and I thought you were dead, Taylor. There was just so much blood..." Carla's voice trailed off into silence.

I awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking anything at the time except that those kids needed help."

Suddenly, Carla lunged forward and grabbed me in a fierce hug. Then, after about thirty seconds, she just as suddenly released me. Blinking rapidly, she said, "I'll see you at three for tutoring. Okay?"

I echoed her. "Okay."

As I watched her walk away, I wondered how much of this I was going to have to deal with today.

By lunchtime, I had a vague inkling. All morning long, I had been stared at, talked about, and even approached, all too reminiscent of the long protracted bullying campaign that I had dealt with at Winslow. So much so that I had almost reacted negatively toward a girl who had walked up to me just to thank me for saving her friend Kelly on Saturday night.

That is, it was reminiscent in every way except for the people being cruel or negative. Instead, everyone was positive and kind, in what they said and how they looked at me. It was my own fear that made me react negatively to them. Fortunately, I managed not to snap at Cynthia, Kelly's friend, and instead just accepted her thanks as graciously as I could.

In some ways I was just glad she wasn't mad at me, as I vaguely remembered snapping at the girl that night, probably because she froze up during the attack. Instead, she was almost too effusive in her gratitude, her eyes filled with some emotion that I couldn't identify.

As were others. Even better, no one gave any indication that they knew that I was Tesla, or that I was the one responsible for killing those two Merchants. Meeting yet another pair of eyes that looked admiringly in my direction, I wondered if they would still feel the same way if they knew what I'd done.

Then again, maybe they would. It was an open secret that the local PRT was seeking a kill order on Skidmark, although nothing official had been released. Instead, it had grown from rumors fueled by how similar situations had previously been resolved in other cities. That the PRT wouldn't confirm it, but at the same time didn't deny it, was almost as good as a confirmation.

The other news that was currently sweeping the school was that afternoon classes were being dismissed while the PRT and Protectorate conducted interviews of everyone who had been present at the attack. That was something I was not looking forward to in any way, shape, form, or fashion.

I only found the idea vaguely interesting because several members of the Protectorate were supposed to be involved as well as normal PRT personnel. Running into a famous cape was something to look forward to, even if you felt guilty. Or didn't, in my case.

Grabbing lunch from the cafeteria line, I headed into a half empty lunch room. Any of the students who hadn't been at the dance, been allowed to go home at lunch time. No one had said, but I supposed that it might have been because there were so many people to interview that pulling them out of class would have disrupted things anyway. The only ones present were those like me who had been at the dance and were to be interviewed.

I could see Chris sitting alone at our usual table, and almost went and sat at one of the other empty tables. But I didn't want to send an unintended message. I didn't want him to think I blamed him or was mad at him for any of the things he'd said after the attack.

In the heat of the moment, Chris has yelled at me pretty loudly, using cuss words for the first time since I'd come to know him. At the time, I had been too shell-shocked to respond, and only later had it occurred to me that viewed by an outside observer, my actions must have seemed reckless and dangerous.

Setting my tray down on the table across from him, I sat down with just a "Hey."

Chris looked up. "Hey, Taylor."

We both sat there in silence picking at our food, but neither eating much. Setting my fork down, I said, "I'm sorry."

At the same moment, Chris said the exact same thing. "I'm sorry about the other night."

Wordlessly, we stared at one another, then I sighed. "You go ahead."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was just so worried. I mean, when you went charging off out into the middle of that mess, I didn't know what to do. I started to follow you, but got hit as soon as I cleared the table by a chunk of glass that cut my leg. I had to duck back behind and stop the bleeding. By the time I was done, I'd lost track of you in the mess."

"I'm sorry that you got hurt. And that I scared you. I didn't mean to. It's just I saw that girl out there and I knew that my clothing was basically bulletproof-"

"Wait, what?"

I studied the shocked look on Chris' face. "I don't think I ever told you, but Parian told me the metal cloth is untearable for all intents and purposes. So while I got bruised pretty badly, anywhere I was covered up wasn't in any danger of getting cut." Of course what I said ignored the fact that my arms and head hadn't been protected at all.

"Shit, I wish I had known that at the time. I wouldn't have been pulling my hair out. When I lost track of you in the chaos, I managed to make it over to where Eric had set up a shield around his sister, Crystal, and Amy. Uh... Panacea, I mean. She healed me, then I went looking for you. I didn't see you again until several seconds after those big flashes that blinded everybody. When I did, I freaked out because you had so much blood on you."

I looked down. "I know. I didn't even realize at the time how badly I was bleeding. You probably didn't see me because I was trying to stay as low as possible while I was helping Brandon move. Even then, we were getting hit by stuff."

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah, there were so many tables turned on their sides with people trying to hide behind them. I was staying low, too. Anyway, I did finally find you and you got healed by Amy. When you passed out, I got you outside. Later, Victoria and Dean found us."

"I figured as much. What happened to Victoria, anyway? She never explained things that night."

Chris looked slightly amused. "She was pretty embarrassed. Squealer hit her with some kind of sonic cannon. Knocked her right through the gym. She landed a quarter of a mile further away. It also made her dizzy and partially deafened her. I think she might also have puked, but don't tell her I told you that. As soon as she could, she flew back, but by then things were over. The Merchants were gone. Well, except those that Tesla killed."

I murmured, "Yeah, I heard about that on the news."

Chris wiped his hand across his face. "It was just as well he was there. Or it would have been worse. The Merchants were sending nails across Skidmark's bands. That would have been bad, really bad. The tables and chairs people were using for cover likely wouldn't have stopped them. The number of injured would have gone up so much and there would have probably been fatalities."

I nodded. "Yeah. I get it."

"Have you checked the interview lists?"

I jerked. "Huh?"

Quietly, Chris explained, "The school posted a list of people with times and room numbers so that you know when and where to go for your interview. There's a set posted here, and another set by the office. There was an announcement."

"I might have been a little out of it."

"I get it."

I didn't know what else to say. I wanted to ask him if he was a Parahuman and a Ward, but didn't know how. After all, I wasn't supposed to know any of their identities. The last thing I wanted was to get in trouble for something like that.

By now, a lot of the other remaining students had filtered into the cafeteria, including some of those that I knew to be Wards. Fortunately, they were giving Chris and I some space. I wasn't sure if it was because he wasn't a Ward, or if it was because he and I had gone to the dance together. Regardless, I appreciated it.

There were a couple of faces absent today. I knew that Amy was at the hospital healing a handful of students who were still hurt as Panacea, while Victoria had apparently gone there to be with her. I guess they would do their interviews at a later date.

I got up, deciding that I wasn't really hungry anymore. Chris rose as well, but I waved him away. "I'm just going to go check the lists and see when my interview is. I'll probably just go study in the library until then. I'll see you tomorrow, Chris."

He looked momentarily stricken, making me wonder if I had been too abrupt. Then he nodded. "Okay, Taylor. See you tomorrow."

Heading out, all I could think about was what I was going to say in my interview?

~~~Railgun~~~

Fortunately, or perhaps not, I had gotten one of the earliest interview times, 1:00 pm in room three twenty-two. Heading there so that I would be early, I glanced inside, surprised to see a camera set up. They were going to tape the interviews, not just take notes? It made me realize that I really needed to keep my wits about me or I might give something away.

A voice behind me asked, "May I help you?"

Spinning so fast I nearly fell down, I squeaked, "Taylor Hebert. Here for my interview."

In front of me was the reason for my reaction, Battery of the Protectorate ENE. I knew she was one of the premier heroes of the city and had a mysterious link to Assault, which the two of them played off with their names. Staring at the stunning woman clad in the skintight gray and white costume with the eerily glowing blue circuitry, I was having a hard time putting two thoughts together.

Not the least because there was a sensation that almost felt like something brushing the fine hairs on my arm. I had a sudden feeling that I now knew what a Parahuman felt like. That this was what I had been feeling all too often in the presence of the Wards and New Wave. In the presence of Chris.

Fortunately, Battery only smiled at my confusion. "Taylor Hebert. You're the first person I've got on my list to interview. You're early."

I hung my head. "I know. But I just..."

"Wanted to get it over with? I can understand that. Saturday night was a stressful time for everyone involved. I'm sorry that it happened to you. Let's go over how we're doing these interview. First, would you like me to call someone for you? A parent or guardian to be present during this interview?″

Did I really want to bother my dad? Deciding the answer was no, I shook my head. Battery said, ″Go ahead and sign here, please.″

Once I'd done so, she continued, ″I'll ask you a series of questions, then let you explain things in your own words, asking just a few more questions to clarify any details."

I nodded. "Like a debriefing."

Battery looked startled, then she smiled. "Read that on PHO did you?"

I shakily smiled back. "Yeah. And in a million spy novels."

"Well, good. That'll make things easier. Now let's start with when you noticed something was happening."

~~~Railgun~~~

When I was finally done, and after declining counseling, I headed home. I'd found Carla and let her know that I wasn't going to be making my tutoring session, which I could tell she didn't mind either. Neither of us wanted to do anything else that day that reminded us of school and what had happened here.

Getting home just after two, I headed out into the back yard and worked on my iron sand technique for quite a while, losing myself in the mindless repetition of it all. The last thing I wanted to do was think about Chris, Battery, or the interview I had just finished.

Instead, I focused hard upon my ability. I already noticed a small improvement, which I hoped would continue to scale up as time passed. It was all about making as many tiny electromagnetic fields as humanly possible, each controlling one grain of a ferric substance at a time. Those ferric grains could cut or smash, ripping and tearing with surgical precision when wielded by my power.

As I worked, I considered the discussion about cape names that I'd had with Dad the day before. One of the points he had made was that there were connotations with the name Electra that neither of us were going to be comfortable with. Once I'd looked up that little bit of Greek mythology and all that it meant, I had to agree.

On the other hand, Tesla seemed a good fit for me, even if it evoked a Tinker a bit more than whatever I was. But it sounded cool and at the same time, managed to capture a few of the things I could do.

Railgun, on the other hand, definitely described my most powerful attack, but I wasn't sure about just giving that information away. On the other hand, it was also short of capturing what I could do by a long shot. Additionally, it was seriously cool.

In the end, I hadn't figured out all that much except that I wanted Rogue-Taylor and Hero-Taylor to seen as two different people. So I needed a different cape name for my dealings with Parian. Dad had suggested Metalla, and I'd ended up agreeing. So that would be my rogue name. I liked that it invoked my ability to weave metal cloth. And better yet, it wasn't taken by anyone.

I'd choose between Tesla and Railgun for my hero name. I was leaning toward Tesla, but who knows what the future might bring?

Of course, there was something else I was going to have to do this week. Dad had pointed out the flaw to me about pretending to be a shopkeeper's assistant in Parian's store. Anyone who came and asked for me there would immediately out me to the other girl. I was already planning to sit down with Parian on Thursday as the big unveiling for the clothing line was happening on Friday.

So when I next saw Parian, I was going to suggest unmasking ourselves to one another. As business partners and fellow rogues, it made sense. Plus, that way, if someone came by and asked for me, it would not be a major deal.

Dad had tentatively agreed with me. While I was glad of his support, I would have done this with or without his consent. Some decisions I just had to make, no matter what our agreement stated. After all, I was the Parahuman here, not my dad.

Fortunately, Dad had already agreed to allow me to patrol tonight. He didn't know that I was going to be actively looking for the Merchants as we'd merely discussed taking down any drug dealers in the general Dock's area. Not to execute some rumored kill order, but to bring Skidmark and Squealer to justice.

~~~Railgun~~~

Circling over the city at about three thousand feet was unreal. I could see literally everything. Of course the biggest problem was that while I could see everything, I couldn't see everything at once. It was really annoying, especially when I was searching for what amounted to a needle in a haystack.

Using my Othersight, I was able to actually see through the buildings and into their interiors. I was currently over the Docks, as that was what the news had indicated was the most likely location of Skidmark and company.

Since I could only see so much territory at any one time, I was just floating high above the ground and scanning everything, trying to be methodical about it. Block by block, I scanned the buildings there, then moved on. At the same time, I was also looking for their bio-electric signatures since I was certain I would recognize them both.

Weirdly, I'd already spotted Rune. She was moving around near the edge of the Merchants' territory with a party of fifteen other individuals. Turning my Othersight her way, I saw that she was accompanied by two other Empire 88 capes, Victor and Othala, as well as just over a dozen men carrying a variety of weapons, mostly rifles and pistols as well as bats and a few other clubbing weapons.

The last thing I wanted to do was have to fight Empire 88 while I was already engaged with the Merchants. I needed to either find them quickly myself, or not find them at all. Towards that end, I began moving a bit faster.

In the end, it took me nearly three hours to locate Skidmark. It was a bit after midnight when I finally spotted him and Squealer laying on a couch and- blech!

I turned my eyes away, my face burning hot. That had to be right up there with the most embarrassing thing I'd ever seen, which until now had been walking in on my dad and mom going at it in their bedroom back when I was eleven. At least then I hadn't known all that much about sex so it hadn't hit me right at that moment what I was seeing. Only later had it sank in and I got really embarrassed. Unfortunately, I now knew what sex was and seeing two disgusting examples of humanity engaged in it was both embarrassing and disgusting.

Even aside from the sex, the two of them and their henchmen didn't seem particularly ready for a fight. Most of the men and women who were there seemed to be doing pretty much nothing besides lounging around the open bottom floor of the building and getting high. However, there were several motionless figure scattered around the edges of the building's interior that might be lookouts. A closer look confirmed it. So much for being able to just swoop in and take them all out before they even knew that I was there.

The biggest worry I had was that I couldn't locate Squealer's truck, the one that had supposedly taken down Victoria on Saturday night. If it could take her down, I didn't want to get hit by it. It didn't seem to be anywhere around. Was it actually there, invisible? I wasn't sure, and tried to use my Othersight to locate it.

Fifteen minutes later, I was no closer to finding it. If it was there, it was invisible to even my vision. Maybe if I were closer, I'd be able to use electromagnetic fields to find it, as it was unlikely she could shield it from that. So I hoped, anyway. Plus, if I couldn't spot the truck, then I needed to keep track of Squealer, as it very likely the first place she'd run to.

I spotted another problem a moment later. The roof was a lot more solid than the last place, with no skylights. Plus, if I busted in through there, I would end up in a warren of rooms as the upper two floors were divided into lots of smaller rooms. It looked like I was going to have go in through the door or a wall. A moment's consideration let me know that putting a railgun round through a wall would kill somebody, from flying debris if nothing else. So door it was going to be.

But before I could hit the door, I was determined to find that damned truck. The only problem was that there were lookouts scattered around the building's interior on the ground floor peering out through heavily boarded up windows. While my suit was black, I wasn't invisible by any measure. So I'd need to be careful, as one flare of my coronal effect would give my presence away.

Sliding around the building's exterior near the roof line, I extended my senses searching for the truck. When I didn't find anything, I slid down lower along an empty section of wall and circled it again. I could feel people moving around inside, their bio-electric signatures giving it away, and my Othersight confirmed it, but there was no evidence of a large truck inside.

How the hell would they even be able to get something like that inside in the first place? It wasn't like there were any doors large enough to drive anything bigger than a pick up truck inside. Of course, since teleportation existed, I couldn't absolutely rule out it being inside.

But if it was, it would probably just barely fit in the interior I could see. So it wasn't likely. No, it was instead far more likely that it was parked outside. Not that I could confirm that either as I extended my abilities in the direction of the curbs outside.

I almost broke off. But I couldn't help remembering the devastation in the eyes of my classmates. It was as if their worldview had somehow been broken, humbled in some fundamental way. Remembering the look in Carla's eyes, the last thing I wanted to do was not deal with these scum the way they deserved.

I took a deep breath, and rose into the air. So I couldn't find the truck. So be it. I'd make sure the damn truck, if it was parked outside, was so much junk. If I also scared the crap out of the scumbags inside, I'd consider that a bonus.

Removing four fifteen gram rounds from the forearm of my suit, I allowed them to float into the air beside me. Then I targeted the street near the curb at the center of each block. Pushing out invisible rails, I charged them to their maximum power.

I fired off the first round, then the second, followed by a third, and finally the fourth. Like the hand of God, an incandescent blast impacted next to the curb at the center of the block on each side of the building. The explosions were enormous, shattering the windows of any nearby buildings as well as blasting huge holes in the pavement a dozen feet across and just as deep.

The lights in the building went out, so I'd clearly hit the buried electrical lines. And my Othersight showed the building's inhabitants scurrying around like rats. Now it was time to hit them directly.

There were still a couple of lookouts keeping an eye outside through holes that had been bored through the wall on either side of the door either too dedicated, or too drugged, to seek better shelter. Not that it mattered. I'd already planned to go in fast. Looking over the building's exterior, I checked my approach, as well as making sure I knew exactly where Squealer was. Then I set myself into motion.

Using my power, I directed my armor downward in a long curve aimed at the door. I was traveling at least two hundred miles an hour when I hit the door, blowing it back off its hinges and sending it tumbling inside. Score one for armor that weighed nearly a half ton. Then I was taking out the sentries who never even had a chance to shout or fire their weapons before I tased the hell out of them.

Not that they needed to shout, as my entrance had been dramatic to say the least. Turning from the sentries' falling forms, I headed in the general direction of the two Parahumans. I made it about twenty feet, tasing another half dozen Merchants along the way, when I felt an impact on the back of my head that sent me tumbling forward.

I went skidding across the floor on my face into a piles of stinking pizza boxes and fast food bags and far worse debris, my ears ringing just a bit. It hadn't exactly hurt, but I felt a bit stunned by the impact. I managed to stop myself before I hit the far wall and lift myself to my feet. Spinning around, I saw exactly what had hit me. Mush was advancing toward me, a wooden telephone pole in his oversized hand. He'd apparently whacked me in the back of the head, although where he'd been hiding when he ambushed me I had no idea. Unless he'd been in one of the large piles of debris scattered around.

I hit him with a taser, only for it to have absolutely no effect. It turned out that being covered with tons of loose debris, almost none of which was metallic, was a pretty good source of insulation. Then he was swinging the pole toward me again.

I allowed it to hit me, holding myself in place using my power, the proverbial immovable object. The result was a hollow gonging sound that echoed through the space and the madly vibrating pole falling out of Mush's hand. Even as it impacted, I took down two more Merchants with long distance taser blasts. From Mush, I heard a lot of muffled cursing going on, then he was trying to envelop me with his body, and knock me down.

I pushed forward right into the middle of the mess that surrounded him, using another, much stronger taser. That got a reaction and the mass of debris collapsed around us. I was really going to have to clean my armor after this as my stomach roiled from the smell. Damn, but Merchants were nasty.

I rose up into the air, immediately getting hit by a hail of bullets, including some kind of assault rifle as the rounds hit me and my surroundings with a long ripping roar. I reached out with directed streamers of electricity to tase everyone I could. I hit several of them, but the rest ducked behind furniture and other items laying around the room's interior.

There was metal inside of the building, even if it wasn't the a lot and I used several pieces ranging from pots and pans, full of rotting food, to an outdoor grill, to tear apart the Merchants hiding places, bringing them into view so I could tase them.

Still, it was far too slow. At this rate I was going to have to hunt them down one at a time and take them out. Shit! I suddenly realized that I had lost track of Squealer while fighting Mush! I needed to-

My thoughts were completely derailed by a huge thrumming sound that made my suit vibrate like an immense gong. I lost several seconds. When I was aware again, I was lying against the wall behind me, hot liquid spilling down my chin.

Had someone spilled something hot on my face somehow? Tasting it with my tongue, I recognized the coppery taste of blood. Was I bleeding? What the hell had happened? I tried to use my power to get to my feet, and just managed it, although my vision was flickering as I saw double or even triple images of everything around me. For example, I saw three images of Skidmark entering a lighted doorway that hung in mid-air with nothing around it about a hundred feet away.

I hung just a couple of inches off the ground, stupidly trying to figure out what I was seeing. Then it finally clicked. Squealer's invisible truck. I'd been hit by that damn sonic cannon. Chris had said it made Victoria dizzy and nauseous, messing with her inner ear and making her throw up, something which we had in common as my stomach suddenly heaved, vomit splattering the inside of my mask.

Sick and nauseated and suddenly furious, I drunkenly fired off two railgun rounds at the door of the truck, both ten gram ones. Both left at full power, but missed, bracketing the suddenly closed doorway and blowing half the side of the building away.

I blinked furiously, then vomited again. I refused to allow myself to bend over though, and managed another railgun round. That one must have missed as well, apparently heading at an upward angle as part of the ceiling caved in. I needed to get away and regroup.

Flight was out of the question, but I could still float. I turned to my left and began moving away when I heard another enormous thrumming sound and my vision dimmed as I vibrated so hard that I nearly broke my teeth on one another. Agony tore through me and I bounced off the the wall behind me, it being the only thing keeping me from being sent head over heels by the mercilessly vibrating power.

I couldn't see or move, my head spinning so badly that all I could do was vomit over and over again. I felt utterly helpless as I lay there, blood and vomit mixing on my face and running into my hair. I might have blacked out just a moment. When I came to, I heard the voice.

Even muffled by the ringing in my ears, it was full of malevolence and hate as it stated, "All right, you shit stains, let's open up this tin can and teach this cuntfuck a lesson. I've got a big ol' bag of the good shit for the first person to bring me a body part from this turd-eater."

That was Skidmark's voice. I was lying there completely helpless at the mercy of the same Parahuman druggie who had nearly killed a large number of people Saturday night. Trying to think of what I could so, I suddenly vomited again, feeling it going into my nose and burning my sinuses.

Then I felt something clang off my armor's breastplate and fear began competing with my nausea on an equal basis.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 12*: Arc 2: Aiming—205 Interlude B

Arc 2: Aiming—2.05 Interlude B

~~~Railgun~~~

Armsmaster stared at yet another written transcript from the video depositions from the night of the attack. The name at the top was slightly familiar as it had been mentioned in a few of the others. Then his attention sharpened as he realized it was also familiar from the Shadow Stalker situation from a few months ago. He glanced over the words, then paused, focused upon one section.

Battery: What happened then?

Taylor Herbert: I ran out into the middle of the dance floor to try to help that girl.

Battery (papers rustling): That would be Kelly Weathers.

Taylor Herbert: I guess. I didn't catch her name at the time.

Batter: So what happened then?

Taylor Hebert: I managed to get her to her feet, well mostly, and we got to cover.

Battery: How did you manage not to get hit with any of the debris that Skidmark's force bands were accelerating into the room?

Taylor Hebert: I did get hit. Several times. I just did the best I could to keep going.

Battery: Understood. When you got to cover, what did you do next?

Taylor Hebert: I got some girls who knew her to help... err... Kelly, and went back out there to help a boy that was badly hurt and trying to protect himself with a chair.

Battery: Weren't you injured by this time yourself?

Taylor Hebert: Yes, but not badly. Mostly just superficial bruises and cuts on my arms and hands. It didn't stop me from going back out there to help him.

Armsmaster looked up from his reading. "Have you seen this particular transcript, Director?"

Director Piggot looked over at him. Then glanced down at what he was reading. Brusquely, she said, "Yes, I have. The Hebert girl did well in a difficult situation. Kid Win mentioned the same thing in his official report."

Armsmaster grunted. He did happen to agree with the Director. The Hebert girl had performed better than many trained PRT troopers. Which wasn't something he considered normal. It was a red flag to him, although one aimed at the girl's home life, rather than anything else. He turned his thoughts back to one of the main subjects of this investigation.

Tesla had been at the school and had almost certainly been responsible for the deaths of the two Merchants whose bodies had been found at the scene. Yet, no one had reported seeing the armored Tinker, which made him question everyone who hadn't been hiding as best they could while everything went down.

Not that he thought Taylor Hebert was Tesla. That would have been unlikely even without the injuries that Kid Win had reported that Panacea healed. Eventually, he'd get a corroborating report from Panacea once she had time. However, Hebert's injuries showed that she had clearly not been present in any form of Tinker armor. Not to mention the fact that there weren't any blocks of time unaccounted for that the girl could have used to change during the entire emergency.

No, the current theory that their group had come up with, but that he wasn't sure that he agreed with, was that Tesla had come in through one of the holes in the gymnasium that had been caused by Glory Girl's uncontrolled flight after being struck by Squealer's Class 4 Sonic Cannon. After entering, Tesla had fired off an EMP which had shorted out the electronics within the gym including any number of phones that had been attempting to record the situation, followed by a series of blinding flashes so intense that several witnesses reported seeing afterimages hours later. Somehow, the volume in which the EMP operated upon seemed confined to the gym, something which he was struggling to understand.

Following the EMP, the other Tinker had then used his ability to redirect a hail of projectiles back into the Merchants who had launched them, after he had somehow bypassed Skidmark's momentum increasing bands. The two deaths were regrettable, but not something which Armsmaster believed would be a legal issue for the other cape. Although worst case, should there be any problems with Tesla, they would make excellent corroborative evidence for requiring that he join the Protectorate, or the Wards if he turned out to be underage.

The tests Armsmaster had run on the nails and other material evidence surroundings the deaths had indicated the generation and presence of a tremendous amount of magnetism. He based that upon how much magnetism was still present in materials with fairly low magnetic retentivity. He admitted to being intensely curious about just what type of control system the other Tinker was using to induce those intensities with that much precision. Not that he would have much time any time soon to investigate the other Tinker unless the order came through.

A voice at his elbow brought him out of his reverie. "Director, how much longer until we hear something about the kill order for Skidmark?"

Armsmaster turned toward his second in command, Miss Militia, wondering why she was bringing this up, especially since she had been against the order in the first place.

Director Piggot raised her head wearily. "I am not sure. It could be later today, or not until sometime on Tuesday. However, until we have the Merchant leadership located, it doesn't really matter when or if the order comes down."

Armsmaster frowned, wondering if that was intended as a dig on him. Since their attack upon the gym, the Merchants had gone to ground, Skidmark, Squealer, and Mush hiding somewhere in the Docks. It was far too large of an area for any ordinary search to turn them up, something only made worse by the myriad of empty warehouses and abandoned factories.

He had already contacted Dragon through official channels, asking her to do her best to monitor cameras in the area, both traffic and otherwise. But so far, she hadn't come up with anything at all.

He doubted that they would be capable of staying hidden for too long, but even if it was only so long as a week, it would make the Protectorate, and incidentally, Armsmaster himself, look bad. It would make things a great deal easier should the kill order come down as it was far more likely that some of the city's villains would end up collecting on it, rather than anyone who was a member of the Protectorate or an independent hero.

"Director, we are currently doing everything possible to locate the Merchants. All of the usual channels are being utilized for the search. However, should the kill order come down, per tradition, I will be pulling our resources back so as to not cause a conflict between the Protectorate and any villains who attempt to collect on the bounty."

Director Piggot gave him a cool look. "Noted, Armsmaster." Then she went back to reading reports.

Armsmaster felt satisfaction that he had made his point. Then he went back to the stack of reports in front of him, searching for any hints of how the response to the attack upon the school could be improved.

The facts of the attack itself were simple. In the initial assault, Gallant had been badly injured, which had tied down Aegis for the all important first five minutes. While he had been getting Gallant medical attention, in this case from Panacea of New Wave, Glory Girl had made a solo attempt to stop the attack, been sidetracked by Mush, before finally being ambushed and put down hard by an apparently invisible Squealer in one of her Tinker rigs.

Kid Win, who had not brought his armored costume and laser pistols, had been out of the fight from the beginning and focused his efforts upon civilian rescue, while Clockblocker had managed to get to his costume and get changed in less than five minutes. But once he'd made his way back into the gymnasium, he had to focus upon helping wounded civilians by freezing them until they could receive medical attention rather than risk a direct confrontation with the Merchants.

Shielder and Laserdream of New Wave had spent the entire fight under one of his shields, focused upon protecting Panacea as well as other civilians, making it possible for the Parahuman healer to use her abilities upon the wounded. The few blasts that Laserdream had sent the way of the Merchants had mostly gone astray, accomplishing nothing except possibly increasing the already extensive property damage.

Aegis, who had only made it into costume nine minutes after the beginning of the fight, had arrived back into the gym just in time to miss the exit of both Tesla and the Merchants. He had focused his attention upon search and rescue, bringing dozens of students to Panacea for healing, including both Taylor Hebert and the boy whose life she had likely saved, Jason Tenant.

It irked Armsmaster tremendously that a civilian had managed to save nearly as many people as some of the Wards. Because they had to remain focused upon the anonymity of their civilian identities, they had either been delayed, or in some cases where the costumes in question had been too bulky to maintain on site, completely derailed.

Saturday night's debacle was going to mean rewriting procedural manuals and additional expenses in the form of at least one PRT manned vehicle on site for costume changes for all future events. Armsmaster was also going to nix any future attempts for the majority of the Wards to get time off. Even if Vista had done a good job of running the console, while at the same time training their newest Ward, Browbeat.

About the only other thing he couldn't find fault with was that Aegis had somehow managed to get Assault and Battery to take over the evening Ward patrol on one of their nights off, as it had meant two more capes close enough to respond to the school's emergency in just over ten minutes. Unfortunately, official Protectorate and PRT response times had been nearly fifteen minutes, partially because of a suspicious fire on the other side of the city, which now appeared to have been set as a distraction.

Miss Militia spoke to him, interrupting his train of thought. "Armsmaster, I'm going to go check on the Wards. Make sure they've all scheduled their mandated counseling time as well as see if any of them need a friendly ear."

He nodded. "Good idea. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help or if there are any additional resources you need."

"Will do."

Armsmaster went back to work, already sketching out a better response plan for the regular troops that only required an additional four man-hours per week to work.

~~~Railgun~~~

Hannah walked down the corridor, heading towards the area set aside for the Wards. She was worried about them if the truth be told. Saturday evening's fight had been a resounding public relation's defeat for the Protectorate's younger members, even if they hadn't really gotten a chance to actually fight.

The comments Hannah had seen on PHO that were aimed at the Wards bordered on antagonistic. This was despite that face that none of them had actually engaged in combat, leaving that to New Wave's younger members. She still found it odd that those aimed at Glory Girl had been far more positive, despite her getting her ass handed to her, if for no other reason than she had been seen to do something.

Never mind that Clockblocker had likely saved the lives of five teens who might have bled out. Or that Aegis had helped get dozens of people to Panacea for healing before she'd left for the hospital. It annoyed Hannah that there was so little understanding of the constraints that the Wards and even the Protectorate operated under. Now she would need to think up events to attempt to create more positive PR for the Wards and the Protectorate in general. At least Glenn would be helpful there.

Shaking her head, Hannah focused upon another thing that had been bothering her from Saturday evening. Taylor Hebert, who had saved the lives of two people, gaining grievous injuries while doing so. She pursed her lips as she considered the circumstances where she'd heard the girl's name before.

That disaster with Sophia Hess. Even now, it was all that Hannah could do to suppress the anger she felt at what that selfish girl had done. Despite all of the counseling and support she'd received, she still engaged in behavior that nearly cost an innocent her life. Now the girl was in juvie, and hopefully would remain there until she turned eighteen, after which she'd serve out the last two years of her sentence in regular prison.

At least the news services had not picked up on the fact that Taylor Hebert, the same girl who had been so badly bullied back in January, had saved multiple lives during a Parahuman assault. Not that Hannah minded the girl receiving credit for risking her life, but none of them, especially the young people she was about to visit, needed to be reminded of what happened.

No, better to just allow the story to die. Sophia Hess had already disappeared from everyone's radar and the last thing they needed was for her name to resurface.

Hannah pressed the button to the side of the door to the Ward's common room which sounded a signal inside, notifying the young people within to mask up if they so wanted. She waited the prerequisite two minutes, then went on in.

"Hello, everyone."

Hannah received a desultory wave from Clockblocker, who hadn't masked up, while Gallant smiled and gave her a cheery, "Hi." Vista was manning the console, while Aegis and Browbeat were out on patrol. She already knew that Kid Win was in his workshop, working on something new.

Hannah smiled behind her bandanna. "I just wanted to stop by and make sure everyone is doing okay."

Gallant shrugged. "I'm fine. Panacea healed me and I'm as good as new." He hesitated a moment, then said, "I'm supposed to see a counselor tomorrow."

Hannah nodded. "Clockblocker? What about you?"

Without looking up, the teen snarked, "I've already gone to mandatory counseling. Besides, as fights go, I'd only rate that one a three. Nobody died."

Hannah snorted softly. In some ways, Clockblocker was right. The fight hadn't been all that terrible, with the only deaths the two Merchants. But there had been a large number of injures, nearly sixty in all, all among the student population and teachers.

Equally, if not more important, had been that the assault had been aimed at a place that had traditionally been considered 'safe' for the Wards. Somewhere they could relax and just be teenagers. From what Hannah knew of American high schools, they were stressful enough without adding worry over your physical safety because the possibility of a Parahuman assault. She knew that Clockblocker at least, was harboring a great deal of anger over what had happened.

Hannah quietly corrected him. "Actually, two people died."

At that, the auburn haired boy looked up. There was something completely serious in his eyes as he stated, "Nobody that mattered."

"Dennis, that's uncalled for."

She was glad that Gallant was the one who corrected his teammate. She had been just about to, but it was better coming from the other boy.

Clockblocker shrugged. "I call it how I see it. You know they're going to put a kill order out on Skidmark. I don't have a problem with that. Or how Tesla dealt with those Merchants."

She corrected, "Actually, that remains to be seen. We should know one way or another by tomorrow afternoon. Plus, we still need to talk to Tesla about what happened. Regardless, no more comments about whether or not someone deserved what happened to them or if they matter. Understood?"

Hannah received a pair of aye's, even if Clockblocker's was a bit reluctant. She was just about to ask them if there was anything that would make things better, when her communicator chimed. Tapping her ear bud, she said, "Miss Militia here."

Listening to the news that was coming in from Dispatch, Hannah felt her heart sink. She made the appropriate response, then closed the com link. Crisply, she stated, "Everyone, suit up. Make sure to get Kid Win from his workshop."

Clockblocker looked excited, while Gallant appeared a bit apprehensive. The latter asked, "What's going on?"

"There's a major battle taking place on the Docks between the Merchants and someone who has been tentatively identified as Tesla. They calling everyone in. We're going to rendezvous at Tenth and Central and enter as a group. Hopefully, we'll know more by then. The Wards are being tasked with back up and crowd control."

Gallant perked up a bit at that, while Clockblocker's face fell. He shrugged and said, "No problem. We'll keep the civvies out of harm's way."

"Thank you."

Hannah headed toward the vehicle bay. Hopefully, she could catch a ride with Armsmaster, or else she would be riding in one of the PRT vans. She also hoped that the fight they were walking into wouldn't escalate beyond the combatants that were already involved.

The battle was taking place perilously near the territory of the ABB, and the last thing anyone would want would be to involve Lung or even Oni Lee in the fight. No, the sooner they got there and shut everyone down, the better.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 13*: Arc 2: Aiming—206

Arc 2: Aiming—2.06

~~~Railgun~~~

I couldn't tell up from down as my world spun round and round. Hands were pulling on me... trying to get under my helm. Into the joints of my armor. I screamed, terror ripping through me, while around me I heard taunts and howling laughter.

Someone tried to flip me over, but failed, barely lifting me a few inches. Still, the jarring shock of hitting the concrete rocked me, adding to my confusion. Then a moment later, other hands helped the first pair and I was flipped over onto my front with the crashing sound of metal on concrete.

At the impact, I involuntarily bit my lip, the coppery taste of blood again filling my mouth. My forehead smacked into the inside of my helm as well, making me see stars. What had happened to my power? Why was this happening? I was supposed to be able to keep my armor floating above my skin. I was suppose-

I screamed as I felt feet jumping up and down onto my back. Utter panic filled me as I couldn't see or move and could barely breath. Blows from all manner of blunt instruments impacted my armor, a clangor that rang through my ears, dominating my senses, so that the only thing I knew was jarring noise.

Then the sounds ceased as a fusillade of gunfire sounded from somewhere off in the distance accompanied by loud yells and cursing. I made a prayer of thanksgiving for the reprieve, while, at the same time, wondering what the hell was going on.

I struggled to take stock of myself, as coughs wracked my body. Vomit burned my throat and nose. Even my eyes burned from the acid sludge that had poured down my face from the earlier flip.

Worse, I couldn't move, my armor too heavy as my power seemed to have deserted me. Sobbing wildly, I searched frantically for my ability, trying to see despite the tears pouring from my eyes. I couldn't understand the reason for my reprieve, and sought in desperation for what should have been effortless to access.

I found it a moment later, pulsing within me. The relief I felt nearly broke me. I drew hard on it, like a newborn on her mother's breast, struggling to live. From around me, I heard curses and shouts as well as the pounding sounds of impacts.

"Get that Nazi cunt! Goddammit! Kill the bitch! Beat that other muther to death! Kill them both!"

A huge thrumming sound reached my ears, even as I kept pulling on my power, tugging and yanking on the strands of it as it almost seemed to resist my control. At the familiar and dreaded sound, I almost released my grip, my most recent memory one of pain and disorientation. Luckily, I managed to keep things together just enough that I still held onto it as the sound impacted elsewhere.

Unfortunately, a moment later, someone again tried to kill me. More than one from the thumps upon my breastplate and legs. I flinched as something long, thin, and sharp, almost like a bladed ice pick, thrust up under the armor at the back of my pauldrons and sliced across my shoulder, the bright, stinging pain bringing new tears to my eyes and leaving hot liquid trickling down my back. The blade withdrew a moment later, as whoever wielded it sought a new target. They found it a moment later as they tried to push it beneath my helm at the side.

I could just feel the razor edge touching the skin on my neck when my power suddenly flared and I thrust all metal violently away from me, drawing screams and curses from those surrounding me. I flailed with my power, using it to move my arms and legs randomly side to side, as well as up and down, driving my attackers back from me. I vaguely felt the impacts of my armor upon their bodies as I was inundated with curses.

"Dirty fucker!"

"Goddamned asshole! Stay still!"

"I'm going to kill you, shit for brains!"

Ignoring the steam of profanity, I used my newfound strength to bring myself back to my feet, my burning eyes still closed to try to keep them from getting worse. I didn't really need them as I could finally see the world around me again using my Othersight. I coughed and spat trying to clear the disgusting taste of bile from my mouth and nose. Hacking desperately, I felt anger replacing the fear that had nearly crushed me earlier as I finally saw the handful of unpowered individuals who had been attacking me.

Wielding a mishmash of weapons from hand guns to pipes, as well as a smattering of blades, the half dozen or so Merchants who had been trying to kill me were all staring at me with a kind of unfocused malevolence. Even as I watched, one of them raised a gun and shot me directly in the face, leaving a smear of lead across my sight that immediately disappeared as my Othersight compensated for its presence.

Grimacing in fear and hate, I flared my power, tasing them far more savagely than I'd ever done anyone before. At that moment, I didn't care if I killed them all. Their bodies danced to the tune of immense voltages, while I turned my head as another thrumming blast sounded to my right.

Aghast, I watched as the air shimmered from the effect of the sound waves, enveloping a member of Empire 88, who shrugged it off as if he were invincible. For just a second, I wondered if the sonic cannon wasn't working properly anymore, then noticed how the doorway behind the man just seemed to disintegrate, the concrete and wood blasting outward. What. The. Fuck? Then I understood. The 'man' was the Empire cape called Victor, who I'd seen earlier, recognizable by his black breastplate and slacks and red shirt. Othala must be somewhere nearby, using her power to give him a form of invincibility.

Grimly, I realized it also meant that the 'Nazi cunt' Skidmark had been referring to was almost certainly Rune, whom I'd already fought once before. More or less. Fuck! I owed my temporary reprieve to a group of villains albeit a different one than I'd been fighting. I couldn't have said which, of the two groups, were the worse villains, but since I'd almost been killed by the Merchants twice now, I was leaning in their direction.

I watched as Victor went running towards an open area of concrete that appeared to be the source of the blast, Seconds later, Rune came zooming through the now much larger door opening, riding a motorcycle-sized piece of concrete, several smaller pieces of similar consistency orbiting her. However, as she cleared the doorway, a nearby pile of trash came alive, as Mush ambushed her the same way he'd done me earlier, knocking her from her perch. The girl slammed into the concrete floor with a jolt that made me wince in empathy.

Rune screamed in a high, thin voice as she was pulled up off of the ground by Mush, desperately pelting him with the same pieces of concrete that had been orbiting her a moment before. It didn't seem to be having much of an effect on the disgusting cape, bouncing off of him as if they were made of styrofoam instead of concrete. While this happened, he was digging his hands into her torso, cackling gleefully, the huge, jagged fingers drawing a shriek of agony from the girl. It was at that moment, I realized that he was going to kill her. I needed to do something to stop him.

I gauged the distance between the two of us and shook my head as I realized I lacked the fine control to hit him with any kind of taser from here. I also could barely move, certainly not capable of flight. Even as I watched, the world once again began to whirl around me, even though my Othersight was rock solid. It was incredibly disorienting to be so damn dizzy but at the same time not see the result of that through my vision. It also threatened to make me hurl again.

I might be able to fire off a railgun projectile, but I couldn't be sure I wouldn't hit Rune, killing, or, at the very least, seriously injuring her. Maybe I could distract him with an EMP. Assuming, that is, as another wave of dizziness almost made me fall down, I could even get one off.

Trying to take at least one problem off the boards, I dropped to my hands and knees. Resting there, I could feel most of my power somewhere deep down inside of me, seemingly just out of reach. I struggled to touch it, to find a way to access it. But it remained immune to my efforts and blandishments.

Raising a metaphorical fist, I hammered away at the barrier that seemed to divide me from it. Once. Twice. Thrice. On the last hit, something seemed to give way, and I could once again touch that inexhaustible well that lay within me. If anything, it felt far closer than it had ever been.

I drew deeply on the power I could sense inside of myself. Dimly, I could feel something stretching inside of me as I did it again. I continued doing this over and over again, feeling stretched, like a balloon just before it popped. I drew upon that well until the world began to fade around me, dizziness finally the lessor of my worries. At that moment, I was just glad I was no longer standing, as I was absolutely certain I wouldn't be able to keep myself upright.

My Othersight was beginning to fray at the edges, as if outlined by little tendrils of incandescent light, when I released the power within me in an EMP that dwarfed the one I'd used in the gymnasium the other night. Released, the power exploded from me in a wave of electromagnetic force that continued far past the walls of the building around me, my Othersight momentarily tracking it even as the lights went out.

I shuddered, as several things happened, seemingly all at once. First, the flare blew every single light in the building, the bulbs exploding with sharp pops of sound, probably frying any and all electronics within as well, as the interior of the building was plunged into utter darkness.

Second, I could feel the flaring, straining magnetic fields heating the metals around me with surprising intensity over quite a distance, something confirmed by the screams and curses that accompanied the sounds of ammunition cooking off. Accompanying the coronal discharges, I could see little flashes of light all around me as bullets exploded, the sounds of uncontrolled gunfire music to my ears.

Lastly, my EMP destroyed the invisibility of the Merchant's vehicle, shorting out something important inside.

I knelt there, still on my hands and knees, gaping as the huge vehicle finally flickered into view, coruscating streamers of coronal discharge pouring off of it like foam from the bow of a racing ship. Two grappling figures fell from the truck's upper deck as something dangerously powerful seemed to fail within it. A moment later, it exploded in whorls of twisting blue energy, the force sending several people flying, while others who were closer to the blast simply came apart, disintegrating under the intensity of the blast.

I ducked my head slightly as pieces of the truck hammered into my suit, but didn't drop to the ground completely, my attention caught by what was playing out before me.

For instance, my plan had worked, albeit in an inadvertent manner. After all, technically it was the explosion that finally released Rune from Mush's grip, not my EMP. Personally, I doubted the girl would care one way or another.

Protected from the brunt of the blast by the other cape, the girl was still knocked head over heels out through the shattered entrance of the building while Mush struck the wall by the door with vicious force and rebounded, pieces coming off from all over him. Adjusting my Othersight slightly, I watched through the wall as a man clad in Empire colors ran forward and gathered Rune up, then raced back to huddle behind a van outside.

I had been rocked by the explosion as well, despite the weight of my armor. Trying to shake off its effects, I was relieved that my dizziness seemed to be fading, and pulled my Othersight back slightly to within the building. A second later, I managed to get to my feet without feeling like I was about to fall over. That was when I saw even more results of the explosion.

The entire wall opposite of me near where the truck had been parked was... gone, leaving a gaping hole there big enough to march a high school band through. In the distance, car alarms sounded, a klaxon wail of noise filling the night. Grimly, I noticed that it was just as dark outside as it was here in the building, making me wonder if my EMP had done more than I'd intended. I was just glad that my Othersight let me see in the dark, although some of the colors I now saw weren't the same as the ones I saw during the day.

Gritting my teeth, I managed to get to my feet, my dizziness receding still further. I might be able to at least hover now, something I confirmed a second later. Finally airborne, I moved towards where the vehicle had been.

I hadn't covered half the distance when I began to see body parts, the biggest a human leg. I forced back the bile that stirred against the back of my throat, not wanting to vomit yet again. I hesitated, my ability to see bio-electric fields showing not a trace of any living person in that direction. I changed direction and headed towards the front doors where the Empire troops had been fighting the Merchants' rank and file.

Arriving at where the doors had been before I'd taken them down earlier, I swallowed as I saw three bodies, their bio-electric fields fading and nearly gone. Two had probably been shot from the small, bloody holes in their clothing, but the last one had a piece of steel impaling him completely through his torso, likely from the explosion. Another man lay groaning nearby, hands clutched around a three foot long spear of metal that was thrust completely through his left shoulder.

I stopped a minute to see if I could help him. I had no idea how that had missed an artery, but wasn't willing to do anything that might make the man bleed out. Leaving him behind, I headed outside into the blackness there. That's when I saw Rune.

She was lying on her back, partly concealed by the vehicle she'd been placed behind, unconscious, her costume ripped and torn. Kneeling beside her, I saw that the robe's cowl had been blown back, while her mask was completely gone, only the blood streaming from a head wound down onto her face providing any sort of privacy. Despite the blood, I was pretty sure I'd recognize the girl's face if I saw her again. Looking around, I didn't see any evidence of the man who'd dragged her to safety.

I managed to get the girl's cowl back up, but had no way of checking her vitals without removing my gauntlets, something which I was reluctant to do. Certainly her bio-electric field seemed very bright, but that might simply have been because she was a Parahuman.

A second later, the beam from a powerful flashlight caught me, pinning me in place. A cold, hard voice demanded, "What do you think you're doing?"

I spun to find Victor standing only a few feet away, a large gun with an attached light cradled in his arms, glaring at me. Stupidly, I asked, "What?"

Cold blue eyes studied me. If he was shocked to hear from my voice that I was a girl, he showed no evidence of it. "Do not test me. Step away from Rune and do not try to discover her identity again."

Shocked that I'd been accused of something that I was innocent of, I protested, "I'm the one who covered her face!"

Immediately, I knew it was a mistake as Victor pointed the gun right at my center of mass, finger tightening on the trigger. Trying to head him off, I said, "If you try to use that on me, the ricochets could kill Rune."

Matter of factly, he stated, "The bullets are armor piercing."

I shook my head. Projecting confidence into my voice, I stated, "They won't pierce my armor. All they'll do is get one of you hurt. Probably her if Othala's effect is still on you. Do you want that?"

Victor seemed to carefully consider my words. Finally, he shook his head. "No, I do not. But if you've seen Rune's face, I cannot let you go without assurances that you will not betray her identity."

We both stood there a moment, then he idly suggested, "You could unmask to me."

Injecting utter finality into my tone, I said, "That's not going to happen."

Ignoring his frown, I thought about it for a moment, then said, "I kind of owe her and you for distracting the Merchants. They had me down. I won't say anything. You have my word."

Victor carefully considered what I'd said. Finally, he nodded, then pointed with the gun toward the doorway behind me. "Get back while I pick her up and take her away. Do not attempt to interfere with us as we leave. Understood?"

I grumbled, "I understand." The something occurred to me. "Wait, what happened to the Merchant capes?"

Victor, who was picking up Rune in a bridal hold, while somehow still keeping the gun he was carrying pointing in my general direction, added a shrug to the list of things he could do simultaneously. "Mush, I do not know. Skidmark and Squealer are dead."

I was just about to ask him how he knew that, but one look into those cold, wolfish eyes, visible through the holes in his mask, and I elected to stay silent as he turned away, soon joining several figures gathered on the other side of the street. I recognized Othala and some of the soldiers I'd seen earlier. Almost absently, I memorized the Nazi foot soldiers' bio-electric fields, so I would know them again.

As I stood there, I considered the irony of being accused of trying to out Rune when I could recognize any cape I saw out of costume once I'd seen them in costume, Aegis and Clockblocker immediately coming to mind. To them, I could now add Rune, Victor, and Othala.

I headed back inside to see if I could find Mush, figuring I'd also help anyone I could. Just inside of the door and to the right, I found a badly damaged body mixed in with some trash, but I had no idea if this was Mush. The body's bio-electric aura was gone and I had no idea with he looked like when he wasn't using his power to cover himself in debris. Leaving him behind, I soon found a handful of people who weren't dead, but were grievously injured.

The first, a man who smelled bad to me even over the scent of my own vomit, tried to crawl away when I approached him, despite the blood that immediately started pumping from a deep wound in his leg once he stopped putting pressure on it. "Stop, you idiot. Can't you see that I'm trying to help you?"

Apparently not, as he didn't stop crawling away. So I used some random wire to wrap around his wrists and drag him back to me. He yelled, "Let go, you shitfuck! Let go of me! Fucker!"

Shaking my head in disbelief that this was what I was stuck doing, I used my power to wrap the man's wrists in more than a dozen strands of wire that I attached to a metal pipe sticking up out of the concrete. Then I used more wire to form a tourniquet that almost immediately cut off the blood pouring out of his leg.

"Don't move," I advised him. "If you loosen the wire, you'll bleed out. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

The man shook his head dumbly as I moved on. Over the next ten minutes, I managed to stabilize a half dozen other gang members, most of whom didn't curse or try to resist, merely staring silently up at me or already unconscious.

As I was helping the last person, I became aware that the building was making creaking sounds. I froze a moment, then immediately headed towards the iron girders that supported the upper floors. I lost track of time as I shaped and welded metal, while at the same time pushing my power into it to strengthen it, all in an effort to make sure the building didn't come down on me.

By the time I was done, I was finally starting to feel better. The dizziness had pretty much faded and I was confident I could finally fly again. Taking a quick look around, I decided to go over and loosen the tourniquet on the leg of the first man so he wouldn't lose it to lack of circulation. That's when a dozen figures walked through the gaping hole in the wall.

In the lead was someone who I immediately recognized: Armsmaster, the leader of the local Protectorate forces. Flanking him was another local cape, Miss Militia, someone who I had looked up to when I was younger. Moving in a loosely semi-circular formation around them were ten or so members of the PRT, the troopers wearing high end body armor while their features were obscured by mirrored visors. Each carried a containment foam sprayer at the ready, now pointing at me.

"Halt. Identify yourself and explain what has been going on in here."

Armsmaster's tone was anything but pleased as the man surveyed the area around him. On the other hand, I was having a hard time responding as I remembered that I used to have underwear with the man's logo on it when I was younger. Finally, I managed to get out, "I'm Tesla. I was fighting the Merchants.″ Almost as an afterthought, I added, ″Empire 88 was here as well."

"My name is Miss Militia. This is Armsmaster. We're with the Protectorate. Do you know what happened here, Tesla?" Miss Militia asked, her gesture encompassing both the interior and exterior.

"I..."

~~~Railgun~~~

Colin watched as the two PRT vehicles ahead of him swerved slightly as all of the lights around them went out. He slowed his motorcycle slightly as its gauges flickered for a few seconds, carefully steering it towards the curb in case anything failed. A moment later, everything firmed up and he picked up his speed again. All around him, the city of Brockton Bay was completely blacked out.

He activated his com link. Speaking in clear, concise tones, he said, "Armsmaster here. Call in all PRT and Protectorate forces upon my authority, including the Wards. We need to be prepared for everything from riots to gang violence if this black out continues.""

"Understood, sir."

Colin paused as something occurred to him. "Also, send a couple of officers to check on Director Piggot. Armsmaster out."

While he was fairly certain the corpulent woman would be fine, he was aware of her special needs. He also knew that she did not have a form of back up power for her dialysis machine, something which was on the docket for the near future. For now, they might have to figure out a temporary solution.

He contacted Miss Militia next, from her location just ahead of him. Colin listened to the crisply professional tone as she asked, "Armsmaster, do you have any idea what happened? Our vehicle's engine sputtered, while one of the headlights blew out. The local power grid appears to be down as well."

"Right now, there are simply too many possible scenarios, including a new Parahuman triggering. However, the blackout is affecting the entire city. I've already called in everyone, including the Wards, in case of riots or the gangs using this as an opportunity to exercise old grudges."

Her tone was thoughtful as she replied, "I'm don't think we'll be dealing with any riots, Armsmaster. As late as it is, most people are asleep and won't even know anything's happened. At least so long as they get power back up by tomorrow morning. I do agree, however, that there is a slim chance that the gangs might attempt to use this to their advantage, especially Kaiser."

"Agreed. We'll talk further when we reach our target."

It took a few more minutes for them to arrive at their destination. Colin nodded in approval as the two van drivers shut off their headlights before they pulled in so that the brighter than normal lights wouldn't give away their arrival. He'd already done the same.

From the back of the two vans poured fifteen troopers and one Parahuman. He could just hear Miss Militia as she gave out a handful of low-voiced commands, while he used sensors to check the scene. After she was done, she walked over to his side, visible in his HUD, which easily compensated for the low light level.

Looking around, she spoke in a low tone, "I don't hear any sounds of combat, so whatever happened must be over. Any ideas?"

Colin kept his voice down as well as he replied, "I'm picking up the presence of dozens of different types of exotic particles scattered throughout the debris field. Definitely Tinker-sourced. I also found trace amounts of electromagnetic energy similar to what we've seen from Tesla. It's possible that he found the Merchants and this is the result. However, there are less than ten life signs within the structure. We'll know more once we investigate further."

The two capes moved towards the large opening in the wall ahead of them, accompanied by the majority of the troops. The ones who stayed back were setting up high powered lights, prepared to activate them upon his command, as well as direct the ambulances that should be arriving at any moment.

Colin noted with professional pride the quick, quiet movements of the PRT troops as they followed his lead. Arriving at the hole in the wall, he made a handful of deft gestures to direct his people. Then he moved forward. A moment later, he noted the presence of what could only be a cape ahead of him, dressed in gleaming black armor, just barely visible in the building's dim interior.

Deliberately making his voice gruff, Colin stated, "Halt. Identify yourself and provide an explanation of exactly what has been going on here."

The armored figure in front of them froze even as the troops around Colin turned on their lights, bringing her sophisticated black armor into sharp focus. It looked well designed and surprisingly menacing. On the other hand, he could barely control his own start of surprise upon hearing the soft clear tones that could only belong to a young girl. "I'm Tesla. I was fighting the Merchants. Members of Empire 88 were here as well."

Next to Colin, his second in command sounded calm and reassuring as she introduced the two of them, "My name is Miss Militia. This is Armsmaster. We're with the Protectorate. Do you know what happened here, Tesla?"

He could tell from Miss Militia's tone that she was just as surprised by the menacing figure being a teen girl as he was himself.

The girl in front of them started to answer, but fell silent after one word. "I..."

A moment later, Tesla began again, her voice much firmer, "Look, there's several badly injured people inside. They're located there, there, there, and there." She pointed as she spoke. "Just follow the metal arrows on the ground. You can ask me questions once they're helped." She paused a moment, then added, "Be careful. The building's unstable. I think I fixed the worst of it, but it still might come down."

Colin nodded brusquely, not taking his eyes off the potentially hostile cape as he gave orders to his men, "Head to the locations Tesla pointed out. Keep an eye out for uninjured gang members and call for help if you encounter one. Render aid to anyone who requires it. At the first sign of structural failure, leave." To the trooper who continued to work nearby, he asked, "When are we on getting lights set up in here?"

As Colin listened to the man's reply, he missed whatever question Miss Militia asked. He did hear Tesla answer however. "I'm not sure. The truck exploded. Squealer was somewhere in or around the truck when it blew. I'm pretty sure that Skidmark is dead. He and Victor were fighting on the truck itself when it went critical. I saw bodies blown apart."

He frowned at the grief in the girl's voice. She sounded too young and naïve to be out here alone. Maybe he should push the Wards' Program to her?

Before he did, he needed to find out something. Struggling not to be too brusque, he asked, "How did that happen? Why did Squealer's vehicle explode?" He was pretty sure that he already knew the answer, but wanted to confirm it.

Colin's interjection was met with a momentary silence, then Tesla admitted, "I think it blew up when I set off an EMP, a big one."

I knew it, Colin thought, a certain satisfaction filling him at being right. He'd push the Wards' Program later. For now, he needed to gain control of the situation. "You're going to need to come downtown to the PRT Headquarters to answer questions."

The entire time he'd been speaking, Colin had been using his halberd to run a series of diagnostics on the other's armor. Unfortunately, it appeared to be incredibly well shielded; the only other option being that Tesla's armor was nothing but a simple set of metal panels made from an unknown iron alloy, something which he discounted as one of the least likely scenarios.

Whatever she used as an energy source was also well shielded, although it did just barely register on his scans. Colin could also detect the residual remains of magnetism clinging to the metallic armor. As a matter of fact, it was everywhere around them, the armor just being the largest source of the effect.

Looking up from his scans, Colin was aware that his second in command was giving him one of 'those' looks, making him aware that he might have come on too strong. One glance at Tesla, and he realized that she was rising up into the air. He raised his halberd, preparing to fire off its grappling hook to bring her back down, when Miss Militia put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let her go, Armsmaster. There's no point in making an enemy here. When we run into her next, we can push the Wards' Program as well as suggesting she come in for a debriefing."

Reluctantly, he nodded, lowering his halberd as he watched what he now knew was a teenage girl race off at a speed that might even challenge his motorcycle. Seconds later, she was gone from view. With a sigh of irritation, he said, "Let's figure out what happened here. I-"

A chime in his helm sounded, indicating a priority call from the PRT. Raising a finger to indicate one moment, he answered it and listened to Director Piggot as she gave him what he considered important information. When she was done, he turned to Miss Militia and said, "That was Director Piggot. The Kill Order on the three Parahuman members of the Merchants has been green lighted. Effective immediately, Skidmark, Squealer, and Mush all have multi-million dollar bounties on their heads courtesy of the United States government."

Frowning in distaste, Miss Militia said, "The matter may be moot if none of them survived the recent fight." She hesitated, then diffidently asked, "What happens if it turns out they died prior to the order being issued? Didn't something similar happen with a villain called Juggernaut?"

Colin enjoyed getting a chance to explain something to his usually quite knowledgeable second in command. "The case you're referencing is State of Delaware vs Juggernaut when he killed Terrorize of the Teeth prior to the issuing of a Kill Order in 2004. The case made it all the way to the Supreme Court where the justices ruled five to two that when a Kill Order is issued, it is, in effect, a retroactive order that provides amnesty to anyone who kills that person regardless of when it happens. Of course, the bounty was never issued as Juggernaut was killed by the Butcher before he could collect and Kill Order bounties are nontransferable to next of kin. Not that any came forward after Juggernaut's death."

He shrugged, then said, "If Tesla was responsible for any of their deaths, she has amnesty and can request the bounty. She'll have to fill out an affidavit first, but that's the extent of it. I also find it highly doubtful that there would be any charges for injuries if any of the Merchants' rank and file perished during the fight."

Miss Militia seemed to mull his words over, then said. "Understood. Armsmaster, I'm going to contact Brockton Bay PD for help in clearing out the bodies since there does not appear to be any immediate Parahuman threat. Can you check the building to make sure it isn't going to coming down on top of us?"

Colin nodded. "Good idea. I'll check the building's steel framework for flaws and failures."

As he headed away, Colin considered what had occurred tonight. The Merchants were almost certainly dead, unable to provide any further ammunition to his detractors. He actually felt thankful toward Tesla for eliminating them. Now if he could just get her to come in for a debriefing, as well as convince her to join the Wards, it would be the best of both worlds. After all, having another Tinker around was always a good thing, or so he thought.

Mind sliding from that subject back to the present, he smiled at the presence of both squarks and axions. Exotic particles indeed. Reluctantly, he turned his halberd toward the plebeian task of checking the building's structure.

~~~Railgun~~~

Flying back to the Boat Graveyard, I kept thinking about what I'd tell my dad. I literally dreaded the look he'd have on his face once he found out what a fool I'd been. Looking back at the situation, I could see how foolish I'd been. I should have immobilized Squealer and Skidmark first, because without them, the others could not have really hurt me. Without Squealer in particular, the truck and its cannon would have been a non-factor.

So what if I had to tear halfway through a building to do so? The bricks and other building materials were not a fraction as strong as my armor. Between its weight, and my own power, it was a formidable battering ram, able to take on almost any structure. I could have smashed my way inside, and while many of the gang members on the lower levels would have escaped, I would have gotten the main ones I wanted.

Instead, I'd tried to capture them all and nearly died doing so. Shivering at the memory of the blade against my neck, I was under no misapprehensions as to how close I'd been to dying on that filthy concrete floor, surrounded by my enemies.

Instead, I'd gotten lucky and survived. It could even be argued that I owed Empire 88 a debt, as it was through the distractions they'd created that I'd been given time to recover. It was a bitter thought, but one I'd have to live with.

Not that I planned to join the Nazi gang, or even give them a break the next time I met any of them. What I would do to work off the debt I owed them I'd have to think upon. I didn't have the slightest doubt that Victor would remember my words and report this to Kaiser. What he would do with the information, I couldn't say.

Alighting in the interior of the ship that served as my base, I removed my armor. Shivering in the chill night air as I now wore only my underwear, I spat, disgusted at the foul taste in my mouth. I quickly made my way over to a table that I'd made that held several gallons of distilled water that my dad had insisted I keep on hand, either for drinking or bathing.

Right now, I planned to use the water for both purposes.

I quickly rinsed my mouth, then spat it out into the bay. After doing so a couple more times, I used the remainder of the gallon I'd just opened to clean myself up as best I could, managing to get most of the dried vomit off my face and body and out of my hair. Any that remained would have to wait until I got home.

I winced at the harsh sting of the cold water against the cut on my shoulder. The pain reminded me of the circumstances of how I'd been injured. Feeling myself starting to shake in response, I firmly tamped down on the feeling. Maybe I just needed to get warm.

Pushing out with my power, I quickly heated myself, making steam rise from my rapidly drying form. Once dry, I dressed again in my street clothes, made up of a metal cloth top and pants. This way, I would be able to fly home rapidly, counting on my power to keep me warm in the brisk night air. I'd keep a crude mask on, just in case, but so long as I was careful, I should be fine.

Taking quick look around, I rose into the air and lofted myself out into the night.

~~~Railgun~~~

Danny Hebert slowly paced from one end of his living room to the other, then back again, a cup of coffee forgotten on the side behind next to him. Around him, candles flickered as the air from his movements sent faint breezes around the room. After a moment, he stopped, grabbed up the cup and took a sip, then spat the cold bitter brew back into the cup from whence it came.

Where was Taylor? That was the question that burned inside of him.

She'd elected to go out tonight, ostensibly to do a simple patrol and fight street crime. Who she thought she'd fool with that little song and dance, Danny didn't know. Certainly, it hadn't fooled him. He'd known at once that she was going out to hunt down the Merchants.

The only reason he hadn't forbid her to do so was because he feared that she might not obey him. Once that bridge was crossed, it could never be uncrossed. So Danny had kept silent, hoping that her armor and the small things he'd gotten her to agree to would keep her safe.

But Taylor hadn't called him as she said she would, halfway through her patrol. Then the lights had gone out, something which he might never have even known if he wasn't waiting up for her.

Now, for the last hour, Danny had been hearing the distant sound of sirens in the night. Every creak of their old house made him wonder if it was Taylor coming home, while every new siren made him wonder if it was carrying his child, hurt or worse.

Finally, though, he heard the sound of the back door opening and immediately headed toward the kitchen, carrying a candle. He arrived just in time to see Taylor wearily plop herself down at the kitchen table, her hands resting upon its top, as if too heavy to move further.

Taylor's expression was damaged, and she wouldn't meet his eyes. Danny immediately knew that things hadn't gone well. Forcing down the desire to shout at her, to demand answers from her, he instead pulled out a chair next to her and settled himself into it. Gently setting the candle at the center of the table, he allowed the silence to lengthen, before finally reaching out a hand and placing it over both of hers.

Taylor started at his touch, then used both of her hands to grip his, her slender fingers surprisingly strong. Closing his eyes, he focused upon those fingers clutching his, while he squeezed them back just as hard.

Against his will, words spilled out from Danny. "When your mother told me she was pregnant with you, it was at once the most terrifying and exciting news I'd ever received in my life."

He gently rubbed his thumb across the back of one of Taylor's fingers, feeling the tension there at his words. "It was terrifying because what did I know about being a father? Your granddad was a hard man, and didn't spare the rod while raising me. I didn't want to be the same man that he was. So I decided that I'd be a better man, a better father.

"At the same time, I was so excited because I knew that you would be some fantastic combination of your mother and myself and I couldn't wait to meet you. When Annette went into labor, I was beside myself with anticipation.

"Then I met you. Held you. This tiny human being that I'd helped create. That I was responsible for. I swore at that moment that I would forever keep you safe."

Danny opened his eyes to see his daughter staring back at him. He couldn't help noting the wet tracks of tears upon her cheeks. "I know I've failed you. I failed you after your mother died. I failed you when Emma betrayed you. I failed you in so many ways."

With a firmness that surprised him, he finished by saying, "Regardless, I won't fail you again. I won't allow you to come to harm if there is so much as one thing I can do to help keep you safe. I want you to tell me what happened tonight, then we're going to talk about things. We'll figure out what went right and what went wrong. Then we'll come up with a plan so that next time, there's that much less of a chance anything will go wrong. All right?"

A second later, Danny had a lapful of crying teenager. Taylor sobbed brokenly as she huddled in his arms, her own around his waist as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

He gently rocked her back and forth, over and over again, murmuring nonsensical words, something he hadn't done since she was just a little girl. After a few moments of this, something caught his attention like a blow. Stroking Taylor's shoulder, her sleeveless top moved under his touch, and Danny nearly had a heart attack at the long cut that was revealed there.

I'll kill them, he thought, almost surprised at the intensity of the thought. Then his surprise faded as he realized he truly meant it. Yes, he would kill whoever had injured his child. He'd drive a blade into their heart, crush their skull with a baseball bat, or even shoot them like rabid dogs for what they'd done. He'd just have to be careful not to get caught. Because more than anything, he now knew just how much Taylor needed him. Maybe even as much as he needed her.

Still, together, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with. Together, they'd figure out what to do.

Together.

~~~Railgun~~~

AN: Okay, it's finally done and posted. Not quite as long as my usual recent updates, but I said everything I wanted to say within. Let me know what you think.

*Chapter 14*: Arc 3: Firing—301

Arc 3: Firing—3.01

AN: Went back and made minor changes to previous chapters. Not necessary to go back and read, though.

~~~Railgun~~~

"All right, people, I'm calling this meeting to order. As all of you know, we're here to discuss a new and concerning Parahuman, Tesla. To those of you who are behind the curve, last night there was a major battle in the Docks area of the city involving the Merchants, Empire 88, and Tesla. There were at least eight fatalities. I say at least, because they're still trying to match up body parts. It could go higher."

Director Piggot paused a moment, then turned to Colin. "Armsmaster, if you would provide the briefing on exactly what occurred."

"Of course, Director." Colin scanned the faces around the table, which ranged from Miss Militia and the rest of the Protectorate ENE members, to Assistant Director Adam Resnick of the PRT and Thomas Calvert, a consultant that had been providing his expertise on small unit tactics against Parahumans to the PRT troops. He was actually considering having the man give a few lectures to the Wards on the same subject, specifically on how to help them counter those selfsame tactics when used against them. Given how many unpowered members there were with each of the three major gangs in the city, they were encountering large groups of armed, but unpowered, gang members far more often than Parahumans.

Currently, he was only holding off because of a certain amount of friction he noted between Calvert and the Director. Until he could see how that dynamic played out, he didn't want to further push Piggot any further. At least, that is, until he could finish his most recent campaign.

Taking a deep breath, Armsmaster began, "Last night, at approximately 0100 hours, there was a 911 call that indicated that there was a cape fight taking place in a building on the corner of Lockett and Stasney, deep in the Docks area. By the time PRT and Protectorate forces arrived on sight, there was substantial damage to the building, as well as to the surrounding streets.

"It appeared as if fast moving objects struck each of the streets surrounding the Merchants' hide out approximately midway down the block, the resulting release of kinetic energy causing a great deal of damage to the surface. Additionally, the immediate surrounding electrical grid was shorted out, although there turned out to only be minor damage to one transformer. The power company was able to restore power by 0300 hours. The damage estimate is at one point two million dollars.

"Myself, Miss Militia, and two squads of PRT troops deployed on site at 0115 hours. Moving inside, we almost immediately encountered an unknown cape. When asked to identity themselves, the cape indicated that her name was Tesla. When asked about what had happened, she indicated the surrounding damage was due to a fight between the herself, the Merchants, and Empire 88. She also indicated that she'd used an EMP to destroy Squealer's vehicle, causing most of the fatalities. There-"

Assault interrupted Colin, curiosity in his voice, "You keep saying 'she', Armsmaster. I take it that Tesla's a girl?"

Colin gave the man a sharp nod. "Yes. To be exact, both Miss Militia and I believe that she's a teenage girl between fourteen and seventeen years old based upon the intonation and phraseology of her speech. She only spoke a few sentences, but it was clear that she is someone who belongs in the Wards, not out on her own, making poor judgments calls."

He was focused on staying in character as much as possible during the briefing. In the past, he would have acted exactly this way, toeing the line on law and order, and pushing for recruitment. That he had other ideas for this new cape would remain hidden for now.

The Director wore a frown as she asked, "Exactly what poor judgment calls are you talking about?"

He waited a beat, then launched into a quick explanation, "Even exempting the incident at Arcadia, what I observed at the site of her battle with the Merchants was an excess use of force, as well as being unprepared for the tactics her foes used against her.

"Additionally, it would appear that she must have come to some form of accommodation with the members of Empire 88 who were present as they left shortly before we arrived on site."

From the way Director Piggot's lips pursed, Colin knew that she was going to want more details. Something which she made clear a moment later.

"What evidence do you have that leads you to believe she reached an accommodation with them?"

What evidence did he have? None, really. It was more of a gut feeling. But Colin had been in the game more than long enough to know when someone was hiding something, or in Tesla's case, fleeing to avoid answering questions, to be able to discern hidden meanings. Not that he could tell the director that if he wanted to maintain a sense of legitimacy. Plus, it wouldn't advance his agenda.

So instead, Colin merely stated, "I based it on the timeframe of the fight, plus the scope of damage, which while severe, was not absolute enough to indicate a true, three way battle. Based upon my detailed analysis of the fight's aftermath, Tesla arrived first, burst in, was quiescent for a moment, possibly subdued by Squealer's sonic cannon. A short time later, Empire 88 arrived, also engaged in combat with the Merchant's leadership, after which events went extremely awry with the explosion of Squealer's vehicle killing all three of the their Parahuman members. An explosion which was caused by an EMP set off by Tesla. Shortly thereafter, Empire 88 fled, apparently uncontested, whereupon we arrived on scene, meeting Tesla almost immediately."

Director Piggot shuffled some papers on front of her. "I don't see where Mush was killed by the explosion. I remember the analysis which indicated some of the body parts recovered belonged to Squealer and Skidmark, but not their teammate."

"Director, if you'll turn to page six of the report, the third paragraph down, you'll see the notation where a body was recovered from a rather large pile of loose debris which we believe to be Mush's. The man was impaled by several large pieces of shrapnel from the explosion. However, we don't have his DNA on file, so it's only an educated guess based upon body type, as well as a handful of other clues."

Director Piggot nodded. Then she turned to Colin's second in command. "Miss Militia, you have something to add?"

Colin met the glance sent his way with cool equanimity and gave her a nod in return. "With all due respect to Armsmaster, I do. While I can't comment on his analysis of the battlefield, I did spend time talking to Tesla. Based upon our conversation, she appears to have a strong sense of right and wrong. Additionally, she took the time to stabilize several of the injured, otherwise there would almost certainly have been at least twice as many deaths.

"While I did not find out the reason from her for why she used the EMP, it would appear to be a valid tactic against a Tinker. I believe that Armsmaster has used them himself in the past against villainous Tinkers."

Colin gave a curt nod at the inquiring looks sent his way. He had used EMP's in the past, even against Squealer. Of course that was only after he had made an analysis on the tech involved. He wouldn't have used one against a vehicle with an unstable quantum power source, even assuming any EMP that his gear was capable of generating would be effective against it. With the Merchant Tinker, he hadn't been able to employ such tactics for almost a year, as her gear had grown increasingly well shielded and stable as time went on.

It was actually a bit of a sore point that Tesla had been able to succeed where he had failed. Not that he really held it against the other Tinker, but he desperately wanted to know exactly how she'd generated one with such intensity, capable of not only destroying Squealer's vehicle, but sufficient to knock out the local power grid temporarily for nearly a mile in all directions. It had even heated and deformed various metallic debris near ground zero, from handguns and crowbars to the molten remains of wiring in the walls. That intensity over that small a range was extremely impressive.

Not that Colin planned to bring any of this up at the meeting. No, he would need to stay firmly on the side of the regs. He was actually glad that he could count on Miss Militia being the voice of reason here. While he would continue to act as the martinet, his second in command would be cool and reasonable, which would only lend her judgment more weight.

Aware that the director had asked something else, Colin had to do a quick mental review of what had been said while he was in his reverie. To stay in character, he reluctantly agreed with his second's assessment, "No, Director, I don't see anything that happened completely barring Tesla from joining the Wards. While there was far too much collateral damage in this and her previous fight, that is exactly what the Wards System is for, to train young Parahumans in the use of their powers so that they can use them for the betterment of society. She would need to be placed on some form of probation, however."

He paused a moment, then went back to his report. "Additionally, I wanted to bring up the last page in the report. My analysis of Tesla's armor was by necessity a quick one, as she left the scene shortly thereafter. I did not read any power source there, which leads to either of two conclusions. First, the armor may have been so well shielded that the instrument package in my halberd couldn't penetrate it. Or, it's possible that the magnetic and electromagnetic effects generated came from her body."

The points he was making were important. He didn't want anyone to be able to later say that he'd hidden anything. Or done less than his due diligence on his analysis of the site and the implications therein.

"While I still lean towards Tesla being a Tinker, the second possibility is a valid theory. While there has never been an electrokinetic or magnetokinetic of that strength registered before, Tesla may just turn out to be the first."

He leaned forward to emphasize the next bit. "Also, in Subsection C of my report, you'll note a very important finding. It's regarding the building's structure. Apparently concerned that the building was unstable, Tesla indicated that she had engaged in some form of material conversion in order to strengthen the structure. The result I observed was that many of the ground floor's steel framework had been changed substantially. It's-"

Looking impatient, Director Piggot interrupted him. "Armsmaster, can you please cut to the chase? What is the significance of the changed material?"

Running some quick numbers in his head, Colin said, "Director, if my calculations are correct, whatever it was that Tesla did to the steel of the building's framework in the immediate area surrounding the blast increased its tensile strength by more than one hundred times. That's ten thousand percent. I've already put in a request to obtain a larger sample of the material when the building is condemned and demolished. With a miracle material like that, there are untold possibilities for its use. Including in that is armor and weapons for use against Parahuman villains and in Endbringer battles."

He could see that he'd made his case in the widening of Piggot's eyes. Now looking incredibly thoughtful, she turned to Miss Militia. "Do you think that Tesla might be open to working with the PRT? Anyone who can change the material composition of metal in such quantities would be hugely valuable to our side."

Of course, what went unsaid was just how well someone of her power would synergize with someone like Kaiser if Tesla chose to turn villain. The thought of fighting Kaiser if he and his people were armed with metal weapons that he'd produced and that had been treated by Tesla's power was enough to raise the hackles of anyone with an iota of sense.

Miss Militia nodded cautiously. "It's possible, Director. While she did practically run away that night, I believe it was more from the situation, including the various deaths involved, than because of anything that was said to her. In a calmer, more sedate setting, she would likely be far more open to recruitment. Perhaps we could use the Wards to approach her, as they're closer to her in age and she would be able to relate better to them."

Director Piggot's reply was a clipped. "Agreed. Does anyone have anything else to add?"

Deciding that now was the best time to make his next move, Colin asked, "Do you plan to put Tesla in for the bounty for the execution of the Kill Orders on the three Merchant capes?"

He didn't need to see the Director's scowl to know that he'd overstepped his bounds. But the words, once said, couldn't be withdrawn from the record. Nor could she ignore them. Grudgingly, she said, "For the two capes that we can see were clearly killed by Tesla's actions, I'll petition the PRT Financial Department for disbursement. However, since Mush's fate is still unclear, we won't be paying out any reward. Dismissed."

Colin rose to his feet, glad he'd spoken. If he hadn't, it was likely that Director Piggot would have pushed hard for Tesla's recruitment, trying to bring her aboard prior to young Parahuman putting in to collect any bounty. If she became a Ward before she tried to collect the bounties, the point would have become moot, as no one in the PRT or Protectorate were allowed to collect on kill orders or bounties of any kind.

Instead, the money would have been added to the general revenue fund to be divided among all PRT offices at the end of the year.

While the bounties, at roughly five million dollars per Merchant cape were small time compared to those levied on groups like the Slaughterhouse Nine, it still meant as much as fifty thousand dollars to every single PRT office in the country.

However, now that it had been officially stated on the record by the Director of the PRT ENE that the independent cape Tesla was both entitled to the bounties on two of the Merchants and that she would begin the paperwork to that effect, it effectively reduced the amount of money going to the general revenue fund by two thirds.

It also gave an up and coming cape, one who very like was a Tinker, a significant financial shot in the arm. The likelihood of someone turning to crime under those circumstances was significantly lessened, and it could very well increase the possibility that they would be open to future recruitment by someone who could demonstrate that they'd been looking after the welfare of said cape.

Of course, if Colin were entirely truthful, that wasn't the only reasons he had done it. The opportunity to tweak the director, with her well known distrust and dislike of Parahumans, was one of those. He had counted coup in their eternal game of oneupmanship.

But the deeper reason for what he'd said, one that he had yet to put in any report, involved the material the other cape had transmuted. The metallic composition of the steel girders in the factory that had been changed were clearly related to the samples he'd received from Director Piggot approximately a week ago.

Those samples had been of a beautiful shimmering cloth, one that he'd evaluated for the purpose of creating costumes for Protectorate heroes, and possibly even ordinary body armor for PRT troopers, depending on cost. Unfortunately, the samples, while possessing amazing material qualities, weren't exactly what he wanted for improvements to his own armor and weaponry.

For those, he needed to obtain replacement armor panels made from the same, or at least a similar material. He had planned to consult Parian directly as to her source to see if there was any possibility of obtaining such.

However, once Colin had matched the girders to the metal cloth samples, he knew the solution was so much simpler. It was not only possible, but was actually likely the other cape could make the changes on the fly to one of his current armored suits. The idea of being able to obtain a suit of armor capable of going toe to toe with almost any Brute in existence made him absolutely determined to accomplish that feat, no matter the cost.

There would be challenges involved. Of course there would. He would need to account for the superconducting properties of the material for one thing. For another, he'd need to conduct tests with Tesla where she changed other metals to see if those also exhibited the same properties or even more exotic ones.

Additionally, if anyone believed that he'd hidden his analysis of the relationship of the two materials, it could be a problem.

However, Colin had made sure that nothing of that nature existed in the experimental data. The link between the two lay in the nature of the alignment of the iron's atomic structure, something which he was quite certain no other Tinker involved with the PRT possessed the technology and instrumentation to detect.

So long as he was cautious in his approach, and managed to, if nothing else, get Tesla to work with the PRT and Protectorate, he would come out of this with an increase in reputation, as well as a substantial improvement to his own armament.

Even those factors, as important as they were to him, were not his sole reasons for this approach. It was also the thought of someone like Tesla wasting her time making material to decorate the bodies of the wealthy. It was like a punch in the gut for him. Yet that had been the true source of the metal cloth. It was part of a sample package that not only had the PRT received, but several high end fashion houses as well.

It was the definition of insane to drape some rich man or woman with material that could stop bullets and absorb lasers and other forms of thermal emissions just because they could afford to buy it. Especially when it could be used to keep safe the capes who protected those same individuals from unimaginable threats.

With the money she would receive in the very near future, Tesla would not need to work. She would be free to synergize with Colin and other Tinkers, possibly even Dragon, on uses for her super materials. Tinker or no, she could accomplish great things.

Now, he only needed a way to contact her, to repair the damage he'd done to their relationship with his initial heavy handed contact. Leverage the fact he'd gone to bat for her receiving the bounty on the Merchants. Colin didn't regret many things, but that he hadn't managed to make a good impression on Tesla during their short first meeting was one of them. He would do better in subsequent meetings, using his studies of how others interacted to create a sense of camaraderie and friendship.

He had to if he were not to fall behind.

~~~Railgun~~~

"Taylor, wake up. Time for breakfast."

I pulled myself out of the safety of oblivion and into the harsh light of day. Not that the faint sunlight coming in through my bedroom window was all that terrible. Instead, it actually seemed to herald another beautiful Spring day.

Not that it should have. No, the day should have dawned wet and dreary with gray clouds overhead. It should be cold, the world around me still in the depths of Winter.

I had fucked up last night. I had gotten people killed. I had killed people, at least indirectly. I was an idiot and the bitterness of learning that little factoid was overwhelming.

"Taylor, stop beating yourself up over what happened. Get out of bed. Take a shower, but keep your bandage dry. I expect you down for breakfast in twenty minutes. Okay?"

I stared at the doorway where my dad stood, his eyes kind, but firm. Hesitantly, I nodded. He disappeared from the doorway, and I watched for a moment as he headed downstairs toward the kitchen to cook breakfast.

I forced myself to get out of bed. Then I went through my morning routine, although technically, I'd already violated that by not going on my morning run.

But Dad would never have stood for me going running the day after I got hurt. Not that it was that bad of an injury, the cut, while long, wasn't all that deep, not quite requiring stitches. The blade that had made it had been long and thin. Maybe if it had gone in at a different angle, the Merchant who had been holding it might have been able to stab me instead of just giving me a cut.

At the time it had been terrifying, being cut while inside of my 'invincible' suit of armor. I'd been as helpless as an upside down turtle, sick and stuck and doing my best to just try to survive.

My armor had been just the first of many mistakes I'd made. My undershirt, made of the same metal cloth as what I'd started to wear, covered only slightly more than those metallic t-shirts and tank tops. It hadn't quite come up high enough on my shoulders to completely protect me.

Instead, the Merchant had managed to wedge his blade up under my armor's pauldron, closets to my helm, then actually thrust it under the metal cloth of my undershirt. I had been injured because I was an idiot.

What I should have done was make sure that my under armor ran from the top of my head out to my fingers, then down to my toes. I should have made sure that nothing small could get through. Designed the helm and gorget so that nothing, no matter how small, could be slipped up underneath it and into me.

I had thought I was so smart, making my faceplate one solid piece, the armor glass there almost as tough as the metal itself. I had thought that I was invulnerable, that with my eyes and head protected, I couldn't be touched. It had never occurred to me that I might find myself helpless, at the mercy of foes who had none, while they had all the time in the world to probe my armor for weakness.

While I had been deep in thought, my body had continued doing my morning ablutions pretty much on auto pilot. I was now clean and dry, just needing to get dressed.

I hesitated just a second, then tossed on a silver metal cloth shirt and my black metal cloth pants over my underwear. Staring at myself in the mirror, I made sure my shirt covered my shoulder bandage, which, fortunately, it did. I smiled at my image in the mirror, then frowned at the ghastliness of my expression.

Time to face the music.

Running downstairs, I headed into the kitchen. "Good morning, Dad."

He gave me a carefully neutral look. "Taylor. Breakfast's ready."

It was odd, but Dad had pulled out all of the stops. There was bacon and eggs, and even biscuits, which if not quite from scratch, tasted almost as good even if only made from Bisquick. I filled a large glass with orange juice and began eating.

It turned out that I was hungry. I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before and had burned up a lot of calories the night before. I polished off all of my well-salted eggs, a half dozen pieces of bacon, and four biscuits, each slathered with both butter and blackberry preserves, although again well-salted.

Finally full, I sat across from Dad, waiting for the ax to fall. And waited. And waited.

Finally, growing impatient, I asked, "So, when are you going to tell me that you're forbidding me from going out again as a hero? I know that's what's on your mind."

Across from me, Dad sighed, then quietly asked, "If I did forbid you to go out and use your powers again, would you obey me?"

His words were like a punch in the gut. Because Dad was right. It was highly unlikely I'd obey him for very long if he did what I'd asked about. I knew myself that well. Even though our relationship was improving my leaps and bounds over what it had been since Mom died, it wasn't strong enough that he could pull me back from what I considered my destiny. Truthfully, I wasn't sure anything could.

Feeling the pressure of his stare, I shrugged. My voice was small as I said, "I don't know."

Dad continued to stare at me until I couldn't take it anymore. Sharply, I shook my head and said, "Okay, fine! I would go out anyway."

"I figured. You get that from both your mom and me."

Jaw dropping that he didn't even appear to be mad, I stupidly asked, "I get what?"

Dad held up a hand, which began to sprout fingers, one by one as he spoke, "Let's see: stubborn, hardheaded, self-righteous, impulsive, and having tunnel vision."

My expression must have given away how much his analysis hurt as Dad hurried added, "You also get a lot of good qualities from us, like loyalty, courage, empathy, character, and integrity. You're a good kid, Taylor, you just need to listen and look before you leap." His eyes, as he stared at me, were full of empathy.

I got up from my seat and went over and hugged Dad. He hugged me back just as hard, which stung my cut, but I didn't really care. My voice muffled, I said, "I'm sorry, Dad."

He hugged me a moment longer, then gently pushed me away. When I sat back down, he said, "Taylor, which of the rules that we came up with did you violate last night?"

We? Examining his grave features, I decided not to argue. I shrugged. "Uh... the first and the second?"

Dad smiled. He teased, "Way to go for the only two that you could have violated. But yes, the first and second rule are the ones you didn't follow. How did you not follow them?"

I hazarded, "I didn't sit down and plan what I was going to do with you? Uh... and I didn't call you?"

"Exactly, although I'd argue that you should have called the PRT, not me, when you spotted Skidmark last night. Instead, you took for granted that you could defeat him just because you'd managed to do so once."

"Twice," I murmured.

Frowning, Dad nodded. "Fine. Twice."

As we continued to talk, to discuss how things could have gone better last night, what I could have done differently, for the first time, I began to see Dad as an actual part of what I was doing, and not just an unwelcome intrusion into my hero career.

By the time I arrived at school, I was feeling a lot better about last night. Dad had reminded me that there were even Protectorate capes that had had battles that had gone at least as badly as mine. Many had gone far, far worse. And that was with the supposedly best Parahuman training possible.

My issue lay in inexperience and poor planning. I should have talked with Dad before going out and told him what I was wanted to do. Then we could have figured out a strategy together, one that didn't involve random railgun blasts around a building. Based upon our discussion, Dad had wanted me to lead with an EMP on the building. One as powerful as possible. If Squealer's truck had blown from that, so be it.

I would have been safe, not getting ganked by her sonic cannon, which, after all, had been capable of taking down Glory Girl. So it wasn't the fact that I couldn't stand up to Squealer's weapon that was the problem, but that I ever allowed it to be fired. Next time, I'd do a whole lot better.

I was pulled from my dark thoughts by someone yelling my name. "Taylor!"

Turning, I saw Victoria Dallon hurrying my way. I raised a brow at the look on her face. Tentatively, I said, "Hey, Victoria. What- oomph!"

That last part was because I was getting hugged by a Parahuman who could bench press a car. Fortunately, she let go a moment later without crushing me completely. Bemused, I stared at the girl who wore an outfit that almost matched my own, only the red of her top differing from mine. Although she definitely was not wearing a bra.

"How are you, Taylor? I haven't talked to you since Saturday night. I didn't come in yesterday because... you know. Look, I know Amy healed you, but are you really okay? I mean, you're not having nightmares about what happened Saturday, are you?"

Nightmares? Me? Actually, thinking about it, I hadn't had any nightmares that involved the events of Saturday, at least yet. I frowned as I wondered what kind of person it made me that I'd killed several people recently, yet I wasn't even having nightmares about doing so.

Of course, Victoria misinterpreted my expression. "It's going to be okay. I promise. Just give it time. Be-"

I interrupted her. "Victoria, I'm fine." At the doubtful expression on her vivacious face, I nodded firmly. "I haven't been having nightmares."

In an effort to change the subject, I asked, "Where's Amy?"

Spinning around, Victoria cursed. "Dammit! She was right here just a minute ago. She's probably hiding out in the library again. Where are you going?"

Summoning my courage, I looped one of my arms through hers and tugged firmly. "We're going to the library to find her. I haven't even thanked her yet. She probably saved my life."

Her tone blunt, Victoria said, "I'll say. You looked like hamburger for a while there, according to Chris."

No wonder he had freaked out at the dance. Although he had apologized the day before, we hadn't really talked much. I'd left as soon as my interview was over. Now though, I wondered if maybe I owed him another apology.

Realizing that the silence had gone on a bit long, I blurted, "I didn't know I was hurt that bad."

"You were. I just wish I could thank Tesla for showing up and teaching those Merchant jerks a lesson. Which reminds me, did you hear there was some big blowout last night? Supposedly, the Merchants are finished as a gang here. My mom said it looks like their leaders are all dead. Taylor, are you okay?"

I murmured, "I'm fine."

I was, too. Well, mostly. Truthfully, I was more worried about possessing sociopathic tendencies than about the people I'd killed. Or my recent near death experiences.

Victoria gave me a doubtful look as we cruised through the library doors. I had already spotted Amy and her small entourage while walking up, having the ability to see through walls being pretty handy, but made a production of searching for her anyway.

Next to me, Victoria said, "There she is. Told ya."

Together, we walked over to Amy, who was sitting at a table with Chris and Dennis. Victoria exuberantly said, "Hey guys! I found Taylor. She was trying to hide, but I sussed her out."

Dennis rolled his eyes as he looked me over. There was more than a little sarcasm in his voice as he said, "Yeah, I can see why you would have trouble spotting her. She's only wearing iridescent silver. Blends right in."

"Hey, Taylor."

I looked at Chris, then mumbled my own greeting, "Hey."

Wanting to avoid talking to him just a little longer, I turned toward Amy. I pulled her to her feet, then into a hug, feeling the stiffness in her body. After a moment, she seemed to relax and hug me back.

Not trying to hide my voice or the emotion there, I said, "Thank you so much, Amy, for healing me. I really appreciate it. You saved my life and I won't forget."

Realizing I was on the verge of tearing up, I pushed her back to arm's length, surprised by the shocked look on her face. Apprehensive, I asked, "You okay? I didn't bug you did I?"

Amy didn't speak for a moment. On the other hand, Dennis drawled, "She's probably just not used to being thanked. Our Amy's too often taken for granted." There was an undertone of bitterness there, one that I almost missed. It made me wonder just what he knew.

It also made my eyebrows approach my hairline. In front of me, Amy shrugged. She muttered, "No, it's not that. Most people do thank me. But it's all so... I don't know, repetitive? Sometimes it just feels like I'm repeating the same day with the same group of problems, the only differences being the faces. And even those sometimes blur together."

Victoria put an arm around her shoulders. "Well, healing Taylor can't be the same as anyone else you healed recently. She's practically a hero."

Amy hissed, "Victoria!"

Looking surprised, Victoria said, "I did say hero, right? I mean, she saved two people's lives. What could be more heroic than that?"

I stood there, my cheeks burning as the silence around me lengthened. Finally, Dennis put me out of my misery. "Vicky, while you're a lovely girl, tact seems to have escape you. You said 'practically a hero'. I'd guess because she doesn't have powers like you."

Looking incredibly chagrined, Victoria muttered, "That's not what I meant." Turning to me, she must have read something in my face as she said, "That is not what I meant, Taylor. You are a hero, Parahuman or not. I mean, you did more to protect people than I did. Or most of the Wards."

Maybe if I hadn't known that at least Carlos and Dennis were Wards, I would have missed it. Since I did, I caught the flash of anger that went across Dennis' face at her words. What I hadn't expected was the matching one that Chris wore for just the briefest moment.

It sealed the deal for me. Deciding I'd had enough teenage drama for the moment, I made my excuses. "Look, guys, I really need to talk to my Chemistry teacher about where I'm at in his class. I'll see you later."

With that, I hurried off, refusing to think about the hurt looks on the faces of several of my so-called friends.

That day at lunch, I sat at a table with Carla and several of her friends, ignoring Victoria's waves to join her. It was probably the first time anyone had ever snubbed her, but I wanted to think about the connotations of being involved with a Ward and other heroic Parahumans when I was anything but a sanctioned hero.

Last night, Armsmaster had wanted me to come in for a 'debriefing'. What I read from his tone, though, was that he were thinking about arresting me, possibly charging me for the deaths of the Merchants in that factory.

It wasn't something that I was going to allow to happen. Clearly, I needed to focus more on developing my powers and techniques, especially my iron sand one, while at the same time avoiding the drama of cape politics, starting with those my own age.

While I liked Victoria and Amy, as well as the other kids who I was pretty sure now were Wards, I couldn't risk my freedom and future as an independent hero by allowing them to get too close to me.

After school, I was planning on talking with Dad to see what he thought about all of this. The one thing I hadn't shared with him so far were my suspicions on the civilian identities of Dennis and company. I'd rectify that omission and get his viewpoint. Dad had a way of cutting through the bullshit to the heart of the matter. Maybe he could figure out a path going forward. I was sure as hell not having much luck doing that.

~~~Railgun~~~

Victoria Dallon leaned against her boyfriend, Dean, looking miserable. "I really didn't mean to insult Taylor. Do you think she's mad at me? She didn't sit with us today at lunch."

Dean spoke reassuringly, "I'm sure she's not. Taylor probably just needs time to process what happened on Saturday. After all, it's not every day that you almost get killed."

Dennis sat across from the couple doing all that he could to not snort. Trust Vicky to figure out a way to make this about her. Not that the girl was a bad person, but she could be incredibly self-centered at times, so focused upon herself that she missed seeing the people around and how her actions impacted them.

Like now. He'd seen the look on Taylor Hebert's face when she'd bolted. While she may have been less than enthused by Vicky's comment on how she classified her actions Saturday night, that hadn't been why she'd left. No, that was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the other teen's exit.

It was funny. Dennis had only been vaguely aware of the girl when Chris had introduced them in the hallway a while back. Oh, he'd registered the presence of the string bean of a girl, but saw her practically as a nonentity.

That is, he'd done so until the day she'd come to school dressed in something made her look like a peacock among lesser birds. On that day, Dennis had actually looked and seen the real Taylor Hebert. He'd seen sweetness and vulnerability, as well as a sort of general decency that had drawn him to her. She'd been kind and funny, goofy and awkward, but at the same time, really pretty in a brain girl-next-door kind of way. He'd actually been fighting an attraction toward her ever since.

Not that he planned to do anything about it. Even if Chris hadn't already liked her, Dennis had more than enough on his plate dealing with being a Ward as well as his father's illness. Sometimes, he wished that he could trade places with Amy Dallon so he could heal his dad as well as others, treating her ability as it was meant to be treated; as a gift, instead of the burden that she clearly saw it. At the same time, she could take his time power and go out alongside her sister, fighting criminals and villains, something he'd tired of long ago.

It just seemed like such a ridiculous waste of time, the endless games of cops and robbers that the Wards and the Protectorate engaged in. Fight a group of villains, only to see them run away after stealing something or wrecking the landscape. Even when they did capture a villainous criminal and manage to bring them to trial, far too often they would escape on the way to prison or the Birdcage.

Hookwolf, for example, had done it twice. The convicted murderer should be rotting away for life in the Birdcage right now, but because no one seemed to really care about his crimes so long as there was a chance he might help in the next Endbringer attack, he was walking around free.

He wasn't blind to the fact that villains in most cities across the US, outnumbered heroes two to one. However, in Brockton Bay, that number was substantially lower, almost one to one. That is, if you counted in independents like New Wave, Green Mile, and Hard Times.

Plus, the gangs were at one another's throats, constantly involved in an eternal game of oneupmanship. They didn't cooperate with one another, not was there much of a chance they ever would, their agendas were simply too far apart, especially when it came to the two most powerful, Empire and the ABB.

Of course, for the ABB, you might as well just say Lung. While they also had Oni Lee and a recently recruited Tinker, Bakuda, those two really weren't much of a threat. No, it was the man dragon who'd once fought Leviathan to a standstill in the ruins of Kyushu that made the people in charge of the PRT and Protectorate overly cautious, unwilling to risk a confrontation.

More than most, Dennis was aware of the things that Lung and the ABB were involved in, from prostitution and drugs to human trafficking. Perhaps Lung didn't quite have the body count of most capes who received Kill Orders, but he was responsible for at least as much, if not more, misery than almost any other Parahuman in the US. Yet, here he remained, safe and sound in Brockton Bay.

Empire 88, on the other hand, were the diametric opposite of the ABB. Despite possessing large numbers of powerful capes, some of their number had been brought to trial, even convicted of crimes. But like Hookwolf, who he'd considered earlier, none of them had actually done any prison time, escaping, with help, before they were incarcerated in a facility.

Could they be taken down by the current rosters of the Protectorate and New Wave? Dennis thought the answer was a clear yes, especially if the powers that be allowed the Wards to join in. He, himself, would like nothing more than to freeze one of their ilk in time, only for that self-same person to come to their sense in jail.

But that would never fly. Escalation, they called it.

Dennis had joined the Wards with such conviction. Had it really only been less than a year ago? Certainly it seemed like a much longer span of time that he'd spent patrolling at least four times a week. Constant training, trying to develop his power, and it was a good power, time limit or no, put so much pressure on his time.

Between school, the Wards, and now his dad's cancer, Dennis often felt like he was being stretched far too thin, like a piece of spaghetti. Those rare moments when he could go out for a burger, or hang out with his friends, were few and far between, especially lately.

Dennis frowned, aware that he was becoming far too close to the kind of whiny, angsty teen that he utterly despised. Plus, his thoughts had drifted from their target.

He'd been thinking about Taylor Hebert before he grew... distracted. And he needed to stay focused. Because unless he was an idiot, he had a rather strong suspicion that Taylor somehow knew that he and Chris were Wards.

It wasn't any one thing. It wasn't as if she'd come out and announced it or accused them of having secret identities.

Rather, it was a host of small things. Despite not really registering her as anything more than something to tease Chris about that day at Fugly Bob's, Dennis had still seen the look that Taylor had levied on their group. It hadn't been one of curiosity, questioning why they were all friends, rather, it had been one that seemingly wondered what was wrong with all of them.

At the time, or even later, Dennis hadn't questioned it. Nor did he question how uncomfortable Taylor sometimes seemed around them, almost as if they gave her goosebumps or the like. After all, having Victoria Dallon's attention was enough to make anyone uncomfortable.

Still, the idea had been percolating around in his subconscious for a while. He hadn't really consciously thought about it, even in passing, because the very idea seemed ludicrous. Until today, that is.

Today, when Victoria had made a nasty dig at how ineffectual the Wards had been at the dance Saturday night, something which had momentarily pissed him off to high heaven. Dennis could tell that Chris, too, was extremely angry at the blonde for what she'd said. Certainly, he'd complained enough about it later even as Dean tried to play peacemaker.

But the kicker had been the way that Taylor's eyes had flashed unerringly from Dennis' face to that of Chris' and back when she'd heard the word 'Wards'.

Maybe if Dennis weren't so aware of her, he wouldn't have noticed. Maybe. But while he had the reputation of a jokester, the person who didn't take anything seriously, the truth was that Dennis noticed a lot of what was going on around him. He had to. His power didn't really give him a choice.

After all, freezing things wasn't as easy as simply touching something and activating his power. If that was all that Dennis did, there would be a constant stream of casualties every time he got involved in a combat situation.

No, because of his power to freeze something in time, Dennis had had to develop a strong situational awareness. All the Wards had to, in one way or another. He believed, however, this his was stronger than any of his teammates. And with good reason: It had to be.

After all, if Missy opened a too wide space between her and a villain, the only consequence was that she, or her teammates, were even safer. If Chris shot someone with one of his hard light pistols, they might be bruised, or at worst, knocked unconscious, but little more.

On the other hand, if Dennis unthinkingly froze someone in the street, they could wake up directly in the path of an oncoming car. Or just as bad, the vehicle could strike them when they were still frozen, the ultimate immovable object, killing all within.

Or he could freeze an object that was moving rapidly in some direction, only for the landscape to change dramatically in the interim before his power wore off, other heroes, or God forbid, civilians added to the mix. In that case, someone could unthinkingly be standing in the objects path when it was released back into the time stream, and they could be killed.

He had to know what was going on around him, while at the same time, projecting those activities up to ten minutes into the future.

Situational awareness. It had been hammered into Dennis again and again. Everyone from Armsmaster to Miss Militia to Velocity had beaten it into his head until he breathed, ate, and excreted situational awareness.

So while Dennis had been aware of how angry his teammate was at Victoria Dallon's words, he'd also been equally aware of how Taylor had responded to them.

It presented him with a problem. Did he report this... suspicion to anyone? To Miss Militia? While Armsmaster was the leader of the Protectorate ENE, and his nominal boss, the man was anything but approachable. Quite possibly the most intense and driven individual that Dennis had met in his entire life, the man was utterly focused upon his own training as well as improvements in his gear. As well as utterly without humor, an equally important character flaw.

Also, while Armsmaster did make time for Chris on a regular basis, he tended to be somewhat short with non-Tinkers who tried to talk to him outside of a training situation. So bringing it up to him was pretty much out of the question.

He could talk to Miss Militia. Second in command of the Protectorate ENE and an experienced hero, she was a great deal easier to approach to than her boss. Dennis knew she would make time to see him. And she would listen. The only problem was that after listening, she would take this to their ultimate boss.

Piggy.

If Armsmaster was the head of the Protectorate ENE, he still reported to the head of the local PRT, Director Emily Piggot. And if he were without humor, Piggy was just plain mean.

The Wards often joked among themselves that the reason Piggy hated Parahumans so much was because one had been responsible for making her fat, probably because after she broke up with one, she ate herself into the shape she was in.

Dennis had no idea if that were true or not, likely not, but it was funny. And it highlighted the struggle he was feeling about knowing anything he told Miss Militia was going to be reported to the PRT Director. Hell, he hated the bitch, having been on the receiving end of more than one lecture about propriety and decorum. Not to mention the hell she'd give him over the cape name he'd picked in violation of the so-called naming conventions for Protectorate capes.

Maybe he would just let it lie for now. After all, it wasn't anything more than a suspicion, really. He could always say that he hadn't realized what Taylor did or did not know until much later. Or he could just keep quiet. In so many ways, his theory was still without legs.

Of course, Dennis was almost certain that if he asked Taylor, she would almost certainly tell him the truth, no matter how unpalatable that truth was. After all, the girl was a hero, so ridiculously brave she'd thrown herself into danger not just once, but twice on Saturday. All without any powers of her own. It was one of the reasons he thought he could trust her. So for now, he would keep his peace, remain watchful, and be ready to react if something happened.

~~~Railgun~~~

Sabah stood at the counter to her shop, the sign on her door turned to CLOSED. She was working furiously to finish sorting out the various outfits she'd needed Taylor to put together before Friday.

All told, Taylor needed to cut out and assemble twenty-five more outfits, which when sold, would result in just under a quarter of a million in sales to be split between the two of them. Combined with the multitude of outfits already present, it represented a mindbogglingly large amount of money and she couldn't help the proud smile that curved her lips.

They were already talking about Parian Designs as an up and coming design house. Of course, Sabah wasn't sure if she would have been able to make the same impact with her designs if she hadn't had such a unique material to work with or such an interesting partner to synergize alongside.

Electra. Good God, Sabah had no idea what the girl was thinking, coming up with a name like that. She certainly hoped that the girl didn't have the same issues that the mythological figure did. If so, she was a train wreck waiting to happen.

Maybe she should have a word with her? After all, she was going to be partners with the girl for the foreseeable future. Sabah could just see giving an interview and talking about her mysterious partner, then having to tell the interviewer that her partner's name was Electra. The word would stick in her throat.

Rolling her eyes, Sabah turned her attention to the front room of her shop. Whereas before, it had been rather plain, dominated by the information she posted on her own ability to provide animated figures for parades and other events, now it was truly elegant. She'd spent a substantial portion of her hard earned savings having it remodeled for the wealthy clientèle that she expected to see walking through the door. It was a risk, but one that she fully expected to pay off once business took off.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her shop door. Still busy, with her mind focused upon her business and the future, Sabah ignored it.

Then there was a louder knock. A few seconds later, there was another. Finally, a voice called, "Parian, this is Armsmaster with the Protectorate. I know you are in there. I need to talk to you about something important."

Heart suddenly racing, Sabah peered through the blinds covering the door. A figure clad in blue and silver armor stood outside, his trademark halberd held aloft in one hand. The head of the Protectorate ENE was really standing outside her front door. Feeling faint, she unbolted the two main locks, disconnected the alarm system, and opened the door.

Staring up at the armored figure towering over her, Sabah worked hard to keep her composure. "Armsmaster? Can I help you with something?"

He was terse in his language, only saying, "Yes."

After a moment, he grudgingly added, "We should speak inside."

Since refusing entrance to the local head of the Protectorate into your business when you were a rogue who depended upon them for your business license was incredibly stupid, Sabah turned and gestured him inside. After he walked in, she bolted her two locks, but left off the alarm.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Sabah turned around. "What can I do for you, Armsmaster?"

He started to speak, then stopped. After a moment, he quietly said, "I need to speak with Tesla, Parian."

Who the hell was Tesla, Sabah wondered? Surprised by the unexpectedness of the request, she blurted, "I don't know who that is."

Momentarily, Armsmaster looked angry, his mouth a thin line beneath his visor. He seemed to force himself to calmness, an act which might just be scarier than his anger. "Perhaps you know her as someone else. I am referring to the person who is supplying you with the material for your new line, the one you sent samples of to Director Piggot."

Sabah felt a sense of excitement. If selling clothes to wealthy people was lucrative, selling costumes to Protectorate heroes was quite a bit more so. She would be able to charge the PRT nearly ten times as much for an outfit that was only slightly more complex than one of her regular designs if only because it was meant to be worn by a hero.

Of course, each costume would need to be a one off, but that wasn't really a problem, not with the money involved.

Trying to keep the excitement out of her voice, Sabah said, "Armsmaster, if you're looking to hire Parian Designs to make costumes for local heroes, or anyone else, I'm actually the person you want talk to. I can set you up with details such as price, time frames, available designs, and so on. I-"

Armsmaster interrupted her. "Parian, I am not here to talk about costumes."

Again, she received the impression that he was carefully controlling himself, because his voice turned almost charming a moment later.

"I have submitted my report to Director Piggot, and I am certain that she will be contacting you at some point in the future regarding using your firm. Myself, I need to speak directly to Tesla, who is most certainly your partner. Your aid in this matter is important and you would have my personal gratitude for doing so."

Sabah felt torn. She had the phone number for the burner phone that Electra had left her, but that was it. However, she was loath to provide even that much help to the Protectorate if it meant her partner might get into trouble. Their partnership wasn't something she wanted to risk.

Deciding to try to find out more information, Sabah pushed her fear and worry aside, and calmly stated, "Armsmaster, if you could tell me a bit more about why you need to speak to my partner, then maybe I could help you."

The armored figure studied her a moment, and Sabah got the impression that he was using more than human senses to do so. There were a lot of rumors about the man's armor, as well as the weapon he wielded, including that with his visor he could see through clothes, and that his halberd could sort lies from the truth.

While Sabah discounted most of that, she felt increasingly uneasy as the silence lengthened. Finally, though, Armsmaster nodded. "That is fair. Last night, Kill Orders were issued on the Merchants. Your partner, Tesla, confronted them in the lair they'd carved out in a factory in the Docks area. During the resulting battle, at least two of them were killed. I was attempting to contact Tesla in order that she might claim the bounty on those two capes, which is substantial. Now, will give me her contact information, please?"

Despite the time he'd taken to explain and his general pleasantness, there was an 'or else' that was implied at the end Armsmaster's speech, one that was impossible for her to ignore. Heart sinking, Sabah felt almost faint at just the thought of refusing. Then her thoughts turned inexorably toward Electra. You stupid girl, she thought, what the hell have you done?

~~~Railgun~~~

After school, I headed home. I'd spent the rest of the school day after lunch avoiding all of the people who I really didn't want to talk to. I'd decided earlier than even the 'new' Taylor needed a break from having to deal with the drama of others.

Once home, I put away my books and headed out to the back yard. I was utterly determined to work on my black sand technique. Dad had been especially right about one thing from the past few days; I needed a way to protect myself if I wasn't in my armor.

Sitting down crosslegged in the grass at the back of the yard facing the house, I closed my eyes. I allowed my senses to roam out, looking for the tiny bits and pieces of metallic material I'd sensed before.

After finding far more than I expected, I began pulling them out of the ground, bringing them to hover just in front of me. I focused upon this for an unknown length of time, but it had to be at least ten to fifteen minutes. Finally, I opened my eyes to see what I'd accomplished.

I could feel shock ripple through me at the sight of a mass of hovering black particles at least three feet in diameter. There had to be tens of thousands of them. How the hell-

I could feel them, each and every one of them. I had been able to from the moment I began pulling them out of the ground. My conscious mind hadn't registered just how many of them that were present. But now, at the time of them, everything fell into place.

Tentatively, I rose to my feet, bringing up the mass of particles higher as well. Using my magnetism, I quickly began forming the particles into various shapes, starting slow, but as time went on, they began forming faster and faster and faster.

Square. Triangle. Sphere. Pyramid. Trapezoid. Dodecahedron. Stylized DNA molecule.

The shapes grew more complex and interesting as I honed my power. Aware of perspiration beginning to form on my brow, I pulled heat and radiated it more than fifty feet away. Using the particles, I created a fan with blades and set it spinning to blow cool air over me.

Smiling at the sensation of a cool breeze on my skin, I considered the circumstances of what I'd just done.

Last week, it had been incredible difficult to even find many of the black metallic particles that I had spinning before me. Today, it had not only been easy, but I'd found at least a thousand times as many, maybe even more.

What had happened in the interim? My thoughts immediately flew to the two battles I had been involved in against the Merchants. At the dance, I'd pushed my power harder than I ever had in training, first creating the immense coronal discharges as a distraction, then creating that EMP. Finally, I had snatched those nails out of midair, and flung them back at their source, killing two people.

At the time, I had through it felt like something was tearing inside of me, but just a short time later, I'd felt fine. My power hadn't, at any point, felt weakened or difficult to use.

At the Merchants' hideout, I had been taken down by Squealer's Sonic Cannon. For a time, I hadn't been able to access my powers. At the time, I had thought that it was because of my inner ear being upset, certainly I'd vomited copiously from the exposure.

However, thinking about it now, I wondered. Glory Girl hadn't been able to fly for a while after getting hit by that same weapon. While she, too, had been ill, vomiting herself empty, why would that stop her from being able to fly?

I was beginning to have the beginnings of a theory. Had Squealer's weapon had some form of power suppression as a part of it? Was that why it had felt for just a moment as if my powers had deserted me?

And if so, when I had finally been able to penetrate the interference and grasp them once more, had it made my link with my powers stronger?

Unfortunately, there was no real empirical evidence. Only the huge mass of black sand still going through its ten thousandth permutation indicated that something was different.

However, in my heart, I was convinced. I had gotten stronger, most likely by pushing my powers harder than I had ever pushed them before. Even the EMP I had set off last night had been stronger than any previous usage of my power by at least a factor of ten, if not more.

My mind still focused on my power's possible growth, I brought the black sand to a hover right in front of me and formed it into a sword. It was something I'd been wanted to attempt for some time. Still using my power, I set the iron particles around the sword's edge to oscillating back and forth as fast as I could.

Walking over to the old stump that I'd once used as a table for tea parties back when I was little, I swung the sword down one side of the stump, watching as it sliced off a sizable piece of the wood. Then I did it again. And yet again.

I felt no real form of resistance and afterward, when I looked over the wood itself, I noted the smoothness of the cut wood. Impossibly smooth. As if the sword was ridiculously sharp.

Staring at the sword in my hand, at the blade that was beginning to glow as the particles there heated up from their continuous motion, I knew I needed to go out tonight and test this new ability. Find out what its limits were.

Dad wouldn't like it, but I thought he'd go along so long as I took precautions. I already planned to rework my armor's undersuit so that it covered me fully. Maybe if I played my cards right, I could even get Dad to come with me to my lair and rig up some lights like he'd suggested.

Deciding I'd spent enough time working on this technique, I allowed the black sand to collapse, pushing it back into the ground. It was time to work on dinner. After all, Dad was always easier to talk to on a full stomach.

With that little thought in mind, I headed inside.

~~~Railgun~~~

*Chapter 15*: Arc 3: Firing—302

Arc 3: Firing—3.02

~~~Railgun~~~

"Do you really think that's the best idea, Taylor?"

I stared at Dad, his eyes looking steadily back into mine, concern ever present there. Was it? Was I being unreasonable wanting to go out and patrol the day after being responsible for the deaths of others?

"I just want to test this ability, Dad. It's one you wanted me to develop, a way to protect myself when I'm not wearing a costume."

The look he gave me was shrewd. "And you can't do that at your lair? I can't help but feel you want to go out and get into another fight."

I didn't, did I? But if I were going to be honest, the idea of yet another confrontation with most of the Parahuman villains occupying my city didn't really frighten me. So maybe that was part of it. I admitted as much to Dad.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

Dad took a deep breath, then exhaled. As I watched, apprehensive, he gave me a contemplative look, the suggested, "Don't you have more work to do for Parian? To get ready for your opening on Friday?"

No fair, I thought. He was supposed to be all unreasonable and start yelling, yet here he was acting completely normal. Sighing, I said, "I do. I need to call her. But I could go afterward."

He gave a decisive shake of his head. "No. Not tonight. What's rule one?"

Annoyed, I argued, "I'm doing rule one! I'm talking to you about it now!"

"Yes and come up with a plan for what you are trying to accomplish. How is just going out and running around looking for a fight a plan?"

Shame-faced, I looked away. Dad stood up from the kitchen table where we sat and came over to my side. He reached out and squeezed my shoulder, which made me feel a little better. Then he offered, "How about this? Go talk to Parian and finish up the clothing. When you're done with that, get her to help you make a new undersuit, one that covers you from head to toe. Then go out to the Boat Graveyard for a while and use your new protection technique to see if there's anything you can't cut with it. While you're there, test to see how dangerous it would be to others around you. Remember, most of the Parahuman fights in Brockton Bay involve the gangs so there are almost always normal humans around. I know the last thing you want to do is hurt someone. This way, you get to figure out safer ways to use it. How does that sound?"

Actually, it sounded pretty good. I nodded, but demurred on one thing, "I do want to go out tomorrow night and patrol, though."

Dad's smile was mostly genuine as he agreed. "Fine. But we'll talk about tomorrow when it comes and figure out a plan. No shooting from the hip, okay?"

Relieved, I nodded. I rose and hugged him. "Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome, Taylor. Take care of yourself."

"I will," I promised as I headed out, needing to catch the bus before they stopped running. I could always fly back under the cover of darkness, but getting to Parian's shop would be hard if I didn't get a move on. While I could always ask Dad to take me, I didn't want there to be any link between him and what I was doing in my extracurricular career.

I probably should have called ahead, but I already knew that Parian was putting in long hours this week getting ready for Friday so I didn't think there'd be any chance she wouldn't be there. Something which one glance at all of the lights on in her shop showed to be true.

I started to knock, but she'd told me I didn't need to bother if I didn't want to. So instead, I reached out with my power and turned the deadbolts that were locked to an unlocked position, then stepped inside, relocking them behind me.

Once inside, I was surprised by the changes in Parian's shop. Gone were the colorful advertisements for parades and events. What had replaced them was elegant and professional, mostly stone and crystal décor. Also scattered about were full size mannequins displaying a variety of our products, while a large seating area took up a lot of the remaining space in the front of the store so that someone walk around in their outfit in front of others so that their friends or family could judge how they looked.

I called out, "Parian, are you here?"

A second later, the woman came out of the back room. She didn't speak and her posture radiated a certain tension. Neutrally, she said, "Electra."

I was still sensitive to people not wanting me around from years of being bullied. I could already feel that vibe in Parian's tone. Trying to be strong, I asked, "Is something wrong? You don't look happy to see me."

Parian sighed. "Do you know who visited me today?"

Mystified, I asked, "Who?"

"Armsmaster."

Fighting a sinking feeling in my stomach, I stood there feeling more than a little shell-shocked as Parian continued, "He wanted a way to contact you. About a bounty on two people you killed last night, Skidmark and Squealer. He all but threatened me to get your contact information."

Stupidly, I asked, "Did you give it to him?"

Giving one sharp shake of her head, Parian said, "No, I did not. He ended up leaving here after I promised him I would have you call him as soon as possible. I then proceeded to call the number you left me ten times. Do you ever pay attention to your phone?"

"It was off."

She nodded sharply at that. "Of course it was. Look, if we're going to be business partners, you need to leave me a way to contact you where I can reach you faster than that. I already figured out that you're in school, so maybe I won't be able to contact you at a moment's notice, but it can't be this hard."

I nodded jerkily. She was right. I'd screwed up. "I understand. About the Merchants-"

Parian held up a hand. "Don't. I don't want to know. Electra, I'm not a hero or vigilante. The appropriate term for what I do is rogue. I don't want to get mixed up with your extracurricular activities. I'll continue to work with you but I don't want it to go any further. I especially don't need to know who you are under the mask. I just need a more reliable way to contact you."

I stood, my face getting redder the more Parian spoke. I felt rejected, which wasn't her fault. More importantly, I needed to let her know that her idea wasn't going to work. Unfortunately, I didn't think just words were going to do it. Deliberately, I pulled back my hoodie and took off the metal mask I'd made to hide my identity, much to Parian's discomfort.

"What are you doing? I told you-"

Wearily, I interrupted her, "Here's the deal. My power lets me read bio-electric fields, like the ones that people have. Unfortunately, they're just like fingerprints, no two alike. Even worse, when I see one, I don't seem to forget it. So since I've seen yours, Parian..."

"…you'll recognize me no matter how good my disguise is. Shit!"

Parian turned away from me for a moment, visibly distressed despite her costume's coverage. I offered, "I'm sorry."

She turned back to face me again, then hesitantly took off the awful blonde wig and doll mask. Underneath was the round face of a girl of Indian heritage. She slowly held out her hand as she introduced herself, "My name's Sabah."

I crossed the space between us in a handful of strides and shook her hand. "Sabah, I'm Taylor. Uh, Taylor Hebert."

Her lips quirked. "I'd say it was nice to meet you, but..."

Nodding my head, I agreed. "Yeah, it sucks. So what did Armsmaster want exactly?"

Sounding excited for the first time, Sabah said, "He said he wanted to give you the bounties on the two Merchant capes whose deaths you were apparently responsible for."

Suddenly, I felt queasy. Of course, I'd heard about the kill orders on the Merchant capes. Who hadn't? It had been big news in the city of Brockton Bay, where even villains like Lung and the capes of Empire 88 hadn't received similar orders. That a relatively small-time group like the Merchants had said volumes about what they'd done at the dance and how those acts had been perceived.

Did I want to claim blood money like that? Really?

Dad and I certainly weren't hurting for money these days. The settlement that we'd gotten from the school had been significant and had not only paid off the mortgage, but had also replaced Dad's old Buick with a shiny, nearly new Ford Explorer. My allowance was enough to allow me to buy clothes and other items whenever I wanted, not that I even needed that with the business I'd gone into with Parian. So I clearly didn't need the money.

On the other hand, if I did take it, I might be able to afford a few things that my power couldn't create, like a ballistic gel suit that I could use as an inner suit for my armor, something that might have helped against Squealer. I could also afford special auditory plugs for my ears and a host of other small items that would make me safer.

Without even thinking about it, I knew what Dad would say. He'd be pragmatic and say take it, then use it to both to protect myself and help others.

Although, just how much money could it be, anyway?

I chatted with Sabah for a few more minutes, then got to work on the remaining clothing items for Friday's opening. I finished them in what felt like record time, which earned me a weird look from her as she carefully checked over each item as I completed them. After a bit more of that, I started to feel insulted.

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore and asked, "Okay, what's the deal?"

Hedging, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"I've been making these things now for weeks. Why are you acting like you did when I first started? Is there something wrong with them?"

Sabah stared at me, then glanced at the outfits I'd complete, then at the clock. Following her eyes, I was suddenly swept with a cold feeling as I realized just how fast I'd finished up the twenty-five outfits that had been left. It had been record time. I'd done them all in about an hour. Just over a two minutes per outfit.

Even more mindbogglingly, these had been some of the more complicated outfits; gowns, jumpsuits, and even a wedding dress, that would have taken me nearly that long each before. No wonder Sabah was giving me the stink eye, I thought. She was probably convinced I was cutting corners.

Only I knew I hadn't. Each cut of the material was perfect, as was every seam, edge, and opening. It was more than a little frightening as it indicated a rise not just in my power's strength, manipulating that much hardened metal cloth not being an easy proposition at the best of times, but more significantly, of my control.

Almost as fast as my eyes traveled down the patterns that Parian had done, my power responded by cutting and joining metal cloth in our creations. It was heady stuff, but at the same time, I worried about how I would be perceived should anyone else learn of this change. Especially a group like the PRT. After all, capes weren't supposed to get stronger like this, were they?

Sabah asked, "What exactly is going on? Have you been practicing a lot more recently?"

Shaking my head, I said, "No, not really. I mean, I have been training, sure. But nothing that should have allowed me to do this. It's..."

"What?"

Meeting the dark skinned girl's eyes, I shrugged. Not wanting to tell her the truth, I prevaricated. "No biggie. It's probably just me getting better at doing this after all of the practice I've had. Hey, while I'm here, can you help me design another undersuit?"

Successfully distracted, Sabah nodded. "Sure, but what happened to the one you already made? I know you've been fighting, but surely nothing damaged it? That stuff's crazy tough."

"No, nothing like that."

I hesitated, then pulled my hoodie up over my head, leaving me clad in just a tank top. The bandage on my shoulder was now visible and Sabah immediately exclaimed, "What happened to you?"

Feeling exposed, I muttered, "One of the Merchants stuck a thin blade up under my armor and managed to get it under my undersuit and cut me. It was pretty scary at the time. Of course, my dad freaked out."

"Of course he did! I mean, if my... ah..." Sabah glanced at my non-existent chest in my tank top, then continued, "Sixteen-year-old daughter got cut while going out and fighting Parahuman villains, I'd freak out too."

I murmured, "Fifteen."

Sabah threw up her hands in vexation. "Even worse! Seriously though, Taylor, you're only fifteen?"

Weakly, I said, "I turn sixteen in June."

Nodding decisively, the girl took command. "We need to design something that will keep you safe no matter what. Plus, you can use some of that bounty money to maybe get some air tanks so that you can be protected even from toxins and stuff."

True to her word, Sabah sketched out an undersuit for me that was perfect. It would cover me from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, leaving only my toes, hands, and part of my face visible. She also made several helpful suggestions on ways to make the suit which involved creating fasteners in the suit's material that only my power could open and close. That way, I'd be able to get my feet through the relatively small diameter circles that were meant to hug my ankles and wrists, then seal the material behind.

Even better, the process had real world applications as we'd be able to use similar, if larger fasteners in the clothing we were making so that actual human hands could manipulate them. It was heady stuff.

All too soon, though, it was time to make the suit. Eying the sheet steel that Sabah had begun regularly stocking since we'd been working together, I reached out with my power and immediately tore it into tiny strips that I reformed into the metal rings that I used to make the cloth.

It was the first time I'd made more metal cloth since the strange increase in my abilities and I found it frighteningly easy. Whereas before, I'd have been sweating up a storm by this point and using my power to cool myself down, now I just blew right through and cranked out ten square yards of the silvery material. It took a moment longer to add a layer of black metal paint, then I 'baked' it all using my power.

I could feel the metal changing at a fundamental level, and again, this was a new feeling. I'd been able to feel this at least a little before, but never to this degree. I could almost envision the way the crystals within the metal were realigning, as I turned them into something similar, yet, at the same time, fundamentally different.

Deciding to examine that feeling more in the future, I set out to cut, then 'sew' the resulting material into a suit. The result looked great, but I'd need to try it on to make sure it fit, although I already had a feeling it would.

Seeming to have the same idea, Sabah suggested, "Why don't you use one of the new changing rooms and try it on?"

Wordlessly, I lifted the armful of smooth flowing black metal cloth and headed for the first of the changing rooms. Once there, I hesitated only a second, then stripped down to my bra and panties and put the suit on.

It was a perfect fit. But then again, I'd kind of known that it would be, the knowledge again having something to do with my power.

Staring at the figure in the mirror, I was kind of surprised by how good I looked. The physical regime that I'd been following had not only gotten rid of the incipient pot belly I'd been developing, but had given me real muscle in my arms, legs, and butt.

Not that I wasn't still a string bean, my chest pretty much non-existent, but at least I was an extremely fit one. Plus the glimmering material that fit so closely to me accentuated what little curves I did have.

"Hey, when you have it on, come on out and let me see it."

I opened my mouth, then hesitated. Did I really want someone else to see me in this? Even though Sabah was a girl, I wasn't sure my self-image was strong enough to bear someone else judging me that way. Then again, that was old Taylor thinking. The Taylor I'd been since getting my powers had done some heroic things. She'd even risked her life while not out in costume to save others. I couldn't let a little thing like body image derail that.

Opening the dressing room door, I stepped out. Sabah gave me a long look, then indicated for me to turn around. I did a quick spin, then looked at her to see what she thought.

"Looks good, Taylor. I don't see you having any of the issues that you had with your other undersuit. Also, would it be possible for me to see your armored suit sometime? I just wanted to have a look at what you make when you're not synergizing with me."

"Uh... sure?" I hated how weak my voice got at times when I was unsure of myself. Girding my loins, I straightened and spoke in a much firmer voice, "Yes, that'd be fine. I'll come by sometime soon and let you see it."

Parian paused a moment, then said, "I've kind of been meaning to talk to you about the name you chose. Since Armsmaster apparently knows that you and I are working together, could I suggest just using Tesla for now? Electra is just..."

I nodded. "Sure. I know what you mean. I wasn't thinking when I came up with Electra. Tesla it is."

She'd reminded me that I needed to give Armsmaster a call, but first I wanted to talk to Dad. Using the phone at Parian's shop, I called our home number.

"Danny Hebert."

"Dad?"

There was a new sense of urgency in Dad's voice as he asked, "Taylor, is anything wrong? Why did you call?"

"Actually I just wanted to run something by you..."

An hour later later and I was ready to make my call to Armsmaster. I was suited up in case he wanted to meet and I was near downtown on a roof in case he had a way of tracing the call despite my using a burner phone. Since he was a Tinker, I wouldn't put anything past him. I tried to keep everything that Dad and I had talked about in mind as I stared at my phone.

Hopefully, I wouldn't forget anything. Inputting the ten digits of the phone number he'd left me, I made the call.

~~~Railgun~~~

Colin heard the ring of his private line, one whose number very few people had. He went ahead and answered it, pleasantly surprised by the identity of the voice on the line.

"Hello, is this Armsmaster?"

"Yes. Tesla?" He cursed his abruptness, but it was a struggle at the best of times for him to effectively use the social niceties.

"Yes, it's me. Parian indicated that you wanted to talk to me?"

Colin noted the question mark at the end of the sentence indicating a slight sense of uncertainty on the part of Tesla. Then again, if she really was a teenage girl, that made a lot of sense. Focusing on how much this girl could help him, he tried to use that feeling to inject as much warmth and charm as he could into his voice. "Yes, I did. I'm not sure whether you know or not, but there was a Kill Order issued on the three Merchant capes. Since you were credited with the... defeat of two out of three of them, as a result you receive the bounty on them."

There was a momentary silence, then Tesla asked, "Do I have to accept the bounty? I mean, can I donate it to charity?"

Feeling a bit of anxiety, Colin said, "Yes, you can donate it, either officially in your costumed guise for tax purposes or unofficially. Or if you don't want to accept it at all, you can leave it with the PRT and it will be divided up among the various Branch Offices. Before you decide, however, can I meet with you face to face?"

"Why?"

There was a great deal of anxiety in that single word, something Colin was determined to relieve. Keeping his voice calm and even, he said, "You're not in any kind of trouble, Tesla. I wanted to ask you for a favor and investigate the possibility of us working together in the future."

"I... I don't know."

Colin remained silent, suddenly aware that if he spoke too soon he would almost certainly close the door that he'd managed to drive a wedge into. After nearly a minute's silence, Tesla finally said, "Okay, I guess that would be possible. When and where?"

"How about the warehouse area of the Docks? We can stay in the Merchant territory and avoid what belongs to the ABB."

Suddenly sounding decisive, Tesla stated, "That will be fine. I'll meet you at the corner of Rosemont and Twenty-sixth Street in an hour."

"I'll be there."

Hanging up, Colin felt a strong sense of satisfaction at his accomplishment. Now if he could only get Tesla to help him with his armor, it would be a perfect operation. Deciding to stop by and pick up her bounty money just in case she decided to take it after all, he headed toward the elevator leading to the ground floor.

~~~Railgun~~~

An hour later found me perched atop a building watching as a figure on a large, futuristic motorcycle made his way slowly down the narrow, almost alley-like street I'd chosen to meet in.

Of course, I'd seen Armsmaster coming for some time, and watched him and the surrounding area carefully using my Othersight, making sure it wasn't some kind of trap. Not that I thought someone with his reputation as a straight shooter would do something like that, but Dad had wanted me to be beyond careful. So I would be.

I let a couple of minutes go by after Armsmaster came to a stop before I glided down to land about twenty feet away from the armored Tinker. Up close, his silver accented dark blue armor was both impressive and intimidating. Harder and more angular than my own, the Tinker's armor was actually larger, as well. It was something which made sense as his armor was a complex and functional machine, whereas my own was simply a bunch of metal panels connected together that I moved with my power.

I could tell that Armsmaster was examining me as closely as I was examining him. Forcing myself to speak, I made the first move. "Hello."

The Tinker's voice was surprisingly mellifluous when he wasn't using it to threaten me. "Hello, Tesla. Thanks for meeting with me."

Deciding to be honest, I said, "Well, when you said you wanted to ask me for a favor, I was pretty curious. Uh... what did you want me to do for you?"

Getting off his bike, Armsmaster grabbed a large package off the back of it and tossed it toward me. Reflexively, I caught it, almost immediately realizing what it was because of my power. He confirmed it a moment later, saying, "First, I wanted to give you the bounties on Skidmark and Squealer."

Staring at the large package I was holding, I could already tell it was cash, then with just a small exercise of my power read the magnetic strips present and realized that every bill inside of the box was a hundred. Stupidly, I asked, "How much is it?"

Matter of factly, Armsmaster stated, "Two million dollars. Sorry about the bulk, but we pay bounties in cash as it's the only medium many of those who collect upon them will accept. Don't worry. The bills aren't marked, nor are they sequential."

I slowly nodded, then tossed the box of money over my shoulder and allowed it to hover there, holding it in the air using the magnetic strips embedded in the bills. Armsmaster nodded appreciatively, then said, "I wanted to let you know that I went to bat for you receiving the bounty. It was obvious to me that you were responsible for taking the Merchants down and should receive the bounty for it. I also wanted to apologize for coming on so strong the other night. Anytime there's collateral damage it's SOP... ah, that is, standard operating procedure for us to bring in the responsible capes to make an official report. At the time, I didn't realize how it would seem to someone who is relatively new to the cape scene."

I could feel the tension inside of me unwind as I registered Armsmaster's words. On one hand, my dad had warned me that if he wanted something from me, the man was likely to be nice to me. On the other, I don't think handing me two million dollars was what Dad meant by that.

Suddenly realizing I needed to speak, I said, "It's okay. I admit that I kinda panicked the other night. Plus, I got taken down pretty hard by Squealer's cannon. It did a number on me." Feeling myself redden, I added, "I had to go get cleaned up."

Armsmaster's mouth pursed and he quickly asked, "Nausea, disorientation, and vertigo?"

I nodded jerkily, then realizing that the gesture was hard to see when you were wearing so much metal, I spoke aloud, "Yes to all of the above. Plus, I think it might have had some kind of power nullification aspect to it as well."

Armsmaster's attention sharpened at my words. "What makes you say that? Glory Girl didn't report anything like that to us when we debriefed her after the events at Arcadia High."

Trying to be as professional as I could be, I said, "It didn't last long, and to be honest, I was so dizzy and sick to my stomach that I'm not sure that wasn't the problem, but I couldn't access my power for a short time after getting hit. It was... frightening."

Nodding, Armsmaster said, "I can see how it would be. When you say you couldn't access your power, was it the electromagnetic one that we've observed you using?"

"Yes. It's like there was a barrier between my power and myself."

Armsmaster frowned, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if it was what I'd said about Squealer's weapon, or something else causing it. After a moment, he said, "Well, I'm just glad you were okay. You know, the reason for the Wards is so that young heroes can be trained in their abilities so that they can be both effective and competent in their use. It also keeps them safe and pays money for college."

"No." Realizing how abrupt that sounded, I quickly added, "I mean, I don't think it's for me. There's enough drama at school without adding powers into it. Sorry."

He nodded again, but didn't seem all that upset that I wasn't even considering joining the Wards. Instead, Armsmaster asked, "May I ask you something about your power?" At my nod, he continued, "How do you create the crystalline structures in the isotopes of iron you use, like the clothing or those girders from the Merchant's lair? The reason I ask is because it has to do with the favor I wanted to ask for."

I stayed silent a moment, the abrupt change in the conversation throwing me off a bit. In my head, I could hear Dad's voice saying, "I told you so." Aloud, I finally said, "I don't know how I do it. I just know that when I use my power for a certain amount of time on a ferrous material, it gets really hard and strong. Is the PRT and Protectorate interested in buying costumes from Parian Designs?"

Armsmaster nodded. "Almost certainly. You and Parian can expect to be contacted by a member of the Procurement Department within a week. From there, it will just be a matter of figuring out a fair price for your services. However, I can assure you that the Protectorate is generous with its funds when outfitting its Parahuman members."

Shrewdly, I asked, "Costumes have something to do with the favor you want from me, don't they?"

~~~Railgun~~~

Wordlessly, Colin stared at the menacing black figure who stood nearby. It still threw him just a little at hearing the dulcet tones of a teenage girl coming from the medieval suit of gleaming black armor. It didn't help that he was already dissatisfied at finding out that Tesla wasn't a Tinker after all. At least, not in the traditional sense.

His earlier question, asked in a casual tone, had been designed to elicit information on exactly what the girl's power was, something which she had just given away, especially when he acted like he already knew. So Tesla was not a true Tinker. In a number of ways, that was a shame, as the two of them would have worked well together, he thought.

However, she was still responsible for creating the sample material that had been submitted to the PRT as well as strengthening the girders in the Merchant's hideout. It was an ability that seemed unique to her, at least so far as Colin knew, and he badly wanted to have it used on his own gear.

Deciding to be completely honest with his motivations, Colin nodded. "Yes, it does. Unfortunately, my armor does not lend itself to additions of the material you submitted to the PRT. What I was wondering was would it be possible for you to use your power on my suit and increase the tensile strength of its structure that way? I would be more than willing to compensate you out of my own personal resources with whatever amount you considered fair, up to half a million dollars."

There was a momentary silence, then Tesla asked, "Half a million dollars? To just make your suit stronger? That seems like major overkill to me."

Colin shrugged. His tone was dry as he said, "From my perspective, anything that allows my survivability to increase is virtually priceless. It's all I can afford, however."

There was another silence, then Tesla abruptly shook her head. "I won't charge you."

He fought down a sense of exultation because he didn't really know yet whether that meant that she would do it for free or even that she couldn't do it at all. In a neutral tone, Colin asked, "Why not?"

"Because it wouldn't be right. You go out and risk you life on a regular basis. It's one thing to charge the Protectorate for making new, safer costumes for their members. They have deep pockets after all. It's another to charge you when you're paying for it yourself. I'll fix up your suit for free."

No longer needing to fight down that feeling inside of him, Colin felt his lips curve into a genuine smile. "Thank you, Tesla. I truly appreciate it."

"Do you want me to do it right now?"

Taken aback, Colin asked, "What?"

Tesla gestured with one black clad arm toward him. She clarified, "Do you want me to fix up your armor right now? Or would you prefer to wait?"

Colin gave the decision careful consideration. In the end, though, he gave a regretful shake of his head. He explained, "As much as I'd like to have you use your power on my gear, including my motorcycle, it wouldn't be a good idea with me using them. One of the things your power does is to turn the material it acts upon almost into a superconductor, decreasing its resistivity to near zero. This affects both the thermal and electrical properties. With the amount of energy used by my armor, there's every chance I would electrocute myself if I didn't take certain protective measures. No, I'm afraid I'll have to do at least some redesigning first."

Tesla's voice was small as she said, "I didn't know that."

Colin nodded. "It's good to learn as much about your power as you can. Even if you don't want to join the Wards, I am willing to spend time helping you explore your power. For example, what is its effect when used on copper or other conductors?"

The girl's voice was even smaller as she said, "I don't know."

There was another short silence and Colin wasn't sure that he hadn't come on too strong. Finally, though, Tesla said, "I have to talk this over with someone else, but I'll tentatively agree to work with you on exploring the limits of my power. I-"

The girl's words were drowned out by a loud, booming explosion that could be heard echoing throughout the entire Dock area. Colin immediately set his suit's sensors to search for the explosion's point of origin. Thirty seconds later, his HUD had an answer scrolling across its display, when Tesla, who had been looking around, suddenly pointed and exclaimed, "It's coming from five blocks in that direction."

Turning to her, Colin asked, "How do you know?" Was this yet another aspect of the girl's power, he wondered? Certainly her answer agreed in all parameters with his own.

"I can see them. Lung's fighting with a group of Parahumans. I think it's the Undersiders, but I'm not completely sure. The giant things they're using sure don't look like dogs, but their costumes match their profiles on PHO."

Colin made a conscious decision not to ask Tesla how she recognized the Undersiders by sight, especially through several buildings. He suspected her power was far more versatile than any of them knew. The good news was that there was a strong chance he'd be able to work with her even if she wouldn't join the Wards.

Giving her a quick look, he said, "Stay here. I'll deal with Lung."

Almost before he'd finished speaking, Tesla was responding, "No. I'm going with you. I can't let others get hurt if I can help."

Deciding that little detail was going into his after action report, Colin said, "I'll take point. You focus on helping any civilians caught in the crossfire. If there aren't any, help the Undersiders. Whatever you do, don't engage Lung."

~~~Railgun~~~

I felt my heart pounding as I quickly agreed. "Okay."

Rising into the air, I rapidly followed the Protectorate leader's motorcycle, which seemed capable of incredible speeds. Even as I moved, I detected a burst of electronic signals emitted by Armsmaster, likely indicating that he was communicating with the PRT. It sounds strange, but at the time I didn't question being able to detect those signals, too excited by the upcoming battle to consider that it was the first time I'd really noticed something that could only be radio waves.

I followed as quickly as I could, falling only a little behind. My Othersight allowed me to see through obstacles and I already saw that one of the Undersiders was down, the boy who'd worn the black motorcycle leathers and the likely source of the black fog that lingered over parts of the battlefield. I noticed that it seemed to block a lot of my sensory abilities. There were still thin patches of it scattered around, and I couldn't see through them at all. It didn't make me especially eager to try to fight in or around them either.

I was also aware of the other members of the Undersiders desperately trying to dodge Lung's blasts of flame, while he wrestled with three of the huge creatures that the girl, Hellhound, must be responsible for. At least that was her power according to her entry on PHO.

I landed not far from where the fighting was occurring, and true to my agreement with Armsmaster, looked for anyone in danger. But the only non-Parahumans present were some of the gang members of the ABB, and even they were fleeing the battle. I immediately turned to watch how Armsmaster was going deal with Lung, shocked by how large the Parahuman villain had already grown. Just the sight of him sent a shiver of dread down my spine.

Standing at least nine feet tall, Lung was covered in silvery scales, his fingers and toes tipped with two inch long claws that looked like they were made of metal. His face was no longer recognizably human, instead a dragon's muzzle filled with far too many teeth beginning to extend out from it. He appeared to be more than a match for all three of the van-sized monsters that he fought, throwing them around like they weighed nothing.

Heart pounding, I watched as Armsmaster shouted, "Lung, stand down!"

When the Parahuman villain ignored the Protectorate leader, Armsmaster raised his halberd and fired his grappling hook at him, knocking him off his feet and into the building behind him. A second later, that corner collapsed, engulfing half his torso in broken brick and mortar.

The dogs he'd been fighting all piled on and began a savage tug of war using Lung's arms and legs that lasted for a few seconds before an enormous blast of white hot flame sent them scrambling back, yelping. Lung rose to his feet, sending debris scattering, and sent a similar blast toward Armsmaster who simply cartwheeled to one side, avoiding it completely.

Armsmaster had already fired off another shot from his grappling hook even while he was still spinning in midair and this one impacted Lung's jaw. The impact was a loud smacking sound, like a side of beef being struck hard, and it shattered several of the teeth in his muzzle with sharp little clicks. It was around that time that I registered a series of whistles, but didn't know where they were coming from and was too focused on the fight to look around for the source.

Shouting "Whl kwwll wooo!" Lung advanced on Armsmaster. Then with a ruthless cunning that I would never have expected, he sent a blast of flame toward two of the Undersiders who had momentarily stopped moving to try to drag off the body of the boy who was down. Armsmaster was out of position to do anything to save them, which was likely why the gang leader chose that moment to act.

Without hesitation, I launched myself forward and met the blast of flame halfway to its destination, my back toward Lung so that I could make sure his targets were all right. There was a momentary feeling of heat so intense it took my breath away and I could feel the skin on my lower back and the back of my legs stinging, then I redirected the heat up and away from me toward the open sky. Two pairs of eyes were staring at me through masks in utter shock and I shouted, "Run!"

Spinning my suit back around, I saw that Armsmaster had hit Lung yet again with his grappling hook, but this time the other Parahuman had managed to grab the end after it impacted him. He pulled hard on the line connecting the hook to Armsmaster's halberd, but the Protectorate leader merely released the line at its connection there, then moved forward to engage Lung hand to hand.

What followed was the single greatest exhibition of hand to hand fighting that I'd ever witnessed. Somehow, Armsmaster managed to fight Lung to a standstill for what felt like eternity, using just his halberd and own personal skill. In the main, he managed to dodge the blazing blasts of white hot flame that Lung sent his way, while dealing blows with his halberd that were clearly magnitudes stronger than they should have been. Somehow, those hits managed to knock Lung down, time and again. At some point, I grew aware that the Undersiders had fled, but so focused was I on the exhibition of skill that I was observing that I wasn't even sure which direction they'd taken

Ducking and weaving, spinning and cartwheeling through the air, Armsmaster's movements made my breath catch. Every blow Lung attempted missed, while at the same time, the armored figure seemed unable to miss and all too soon those silvery scales were streaked with blood as the bestial Parahuman grew more and more off balance. Unfortunately, that's when it happened.

Whether he was just the tiniest bit too slow, or whether Lung had become even faster along with the growth in his size, when next Armsmaster struck him, he wasn't able to move completely out of the way of a clawed blow that tore away half his breastplate. The force of the blow sent it sailing halfway down the block where it landed with a crash and made Armsmaster slam into a light pole twenty feet to one side where he lay crumpled in a heap, out cold.

I stifled the cry on my lips, forcing it back. It wouldn't do any good. There was no one there to answer it, the Undersiders having fled. Fighting the fear I felt, I levitated my armor to land right in front of Armsmaster. There I stood facing Lung.

~~~Railgun~~~

"We've got to go!"

"So go! I have to watch this!"

Lisa shook off Alec's hand and raised her head back over the edge of the parapet of the building two blocks away from where they'd been fighting Lung, her phone's camera recording the action. She saw Armsmaster go down, his armor nearly torn off of him, then Lung start toward the downed figure.

A couple of seconds later, she saw Tesla land in front of the Protectorate leader and crouch protectively over him. Without even meaning to, her power activated.

Will defend Armsmaster to the death. Views him as a comrade in arms. Feels tremendous respect for the man. Teenage girl under the armor. She-

Shaking her head at her power, Lisa wanted to scream at what she now knew was a girl to grab the other man and run. No one could face Lung when he began ramping up to this point.

It was why they'd tried to ambush the ABB leader, hoping to take him down before he grew too strong. But they'd been too slow, sufficiently delayed by Oni Lee that Lung had already been too ramped up to fight one on one. Not even all three of Bitch's dogs had been able to keep the man down, and Lisa had actually wondered if they were going to be killed in the resulting melee, which would have driven the girl berserk, likely leading her to attack Lung herself, no matter the futility of it.

If that had happened, her and Alec would have had to run for it, even leaving Brian behind. Lisa liked the African-American boy, but not enough to die trying to save him. It had been bad luck that he had gone down in the first couple of minutes of the fight, an unfortunate victim of getting hit by one of the dogs that Lung had flung through his darkness.

Without Brian's darkness, it was a lot harder to dodge Lung's flame. Lisa had immediately seen that the fight was unwinnable and had tried to disengage her team from the battle. But Lung wasn't allowing it to happen, and it was only Rachel's dogs that kept them alive over the next couple of minutes as they'd moved around frantically, dodging as much as possible.

Lisa's leg muscles had begun burning because of the effort she was putting forth and she knew she wouldn't be able to go at that pace much longer. It was one of the few times that she regretted not taking Brian up on his offer to learn to defend herself. To get into better shape. Now it might just cost her her life as she began to stagger while trying to still move.

It was at that moment that Armsmaster had arrived and immediately engaged Lung. He'd been accompanied by some new Parahuman who Lisa had no information on, but thought might be Tesla, the new cape who'd recently taken down the Merchants. She hadn't heard that Tesla was a member of the Wards or Protectorate, but maybe it was a ride a long, or something of that nature.

Certainly the girl had saved her, Alec's, and Brian's lives just now. If not for her intercepting the burning hot flame that Lung had sent their way while she and Alec had been trying to drag Brian, the three of them would be dead, or at a minimum left crippled and out of action by third degree burns. Lisa still wasn't sure how the girl had done what she did, but somehow, she'd managed to force the flame up and into the air. Was she a pyrokinetic rather than the Tinker she was listed as on PHO?

Deciding that she didn't need the resulting migraine for information that she could discover another way, Lisa instead focused her attention on the fight still going on in the street two blocks away. She blinked as an actinic flash momentarily blinded her, leaving after images dancing in front of her eyes.

What the hell had that been, she wondered? Unable to resist her curiosity over what looked like lightning any longer, Lisa tried to use her power to figure out what was going on, even knowing that she'd pay for it with a crippling migraine later.

Focused electrical current used as a taser. Much more powerful than anything man-made. Current is-

Discarding that line of thought, Lisa instead focused on what was happening as metal from all around the battle rapidly flew forward to impact Lung.

Control of ferrous material allows Tesla to move and manipulate metal. Control is electromagnetic in nature. Power is innate, not a device.

Feeling a sensation of shock tear through her, Lisa watched stunned, as the metal seemed to reshape itself in mid air after impacting Lung. This time, it wrapped him in its embrace, squeezing him while he roared in fury. Unfortunately, he was already tearing his way through it.

Lung wrapped in five tons of ferrous metal. Amount insufficient to contain him. Amount required-

Shaking her head against the migraine she was already feeling, Lisa focused her power once more on the battle. She felt sickened as needle-shaped points rose out of the metal surrounding Lung and stabbed deeply into his eyes sockets, then into the skull behind them, making him scream. The incredible bursts of flame that resulted lit the area, painting it in shades of color like a scene from Dante's Inferno.

A moment later, Tesla was wading forward through the flame, something long and black in one hand. Parts of Lung were being sent flying away as she swung what could only be some kind of blade over and over again, savagely chopping away at the ABB leader.

Blade made up of thousands of tiny vibrating particles. Blade has removed fifty percent of both of Lung's legs. One hundred percent of left arm. Seventy-five percent of right arm. Limb regrowth within sixty seconds. Lung's head fully detached. Lung deceased. Regrowth ceased.

Scrambling back from the parapet, Lisa turned and vomited onto the rooftop at the feet of her team. Her nausea lasted only a moment, then she spit hard, clearing her mouth. Staggering to her feet, her limbs still leaden, she said, "Let's go."

Rachel stared at her, then her eyes slid past her toward the dancing flames visible in the distance. Sounding angry, she asked, "What about the fight you were watching? It over?"

Unable to control the starkness of her words, Lisa said, "Lung's dead. Tesla killed him. We don't want to be anywhere around here if she decides to come after us."

"Fuck!"

"Huh."

She ignored Alec's shocked expletive and Rachel's grunt of surprise. Sticking her phone back into a pocket, Lisa scrambled up onto Brutus, holding Brian's form with one hand while using the other to grip a horn-like growth. Their leader wasn't going anywhere, but she'd make sure to hold him in place anyway as they moved. Nor was he badly hurt, just unconscious. She'd already used her power to ascertain that fact. Otherwise, even her curiosity wouldn't have kept her around.

Not that she'd liked what it had just shown her. What she'd just witnessed had been utterly terrifying, if fascinating, and it indicated that there was a new order in Brockton Bay.

In a way, it was the sheer ruthlessness that Tesla had used to take Lung down that had gained her attention. Few Parahumans went all out, if only because they knew that by doing so, they risked others doing the same to them. It made for a more civil world, turning the things villains got up to to more of a game of a cops and robbers than anything else.

But first the Merchants, and then Lung, had violated the rules of that game. The Merchants had gone after kids in a school, and while their leadership had almost certainly never meant to escalate in the manner in which they had, it had cost them dearly.

Lisa was aware that the Kill Order issued for the Merchants had already been collected upon. She didn't know who'd done so, but suspected Empire 88. Not that it mattered, the news on who it was would leak eventually, just as it always did.

She'd known that ripping off the ABB casino, the Ruby Dreams, some time ago was going to result in Lung coming after them. Despite her power, she hadn't expected the way he'd escalated the conflict. It was only when they'd engaged Lung that she'd realized that he intended to kill all of them, making them into an example to others who might consider stealing from his operation.

It made her reconsider the lifestyle she'd chosen, or rather, the one that had chosen her, remembering the choice she'd been given all those months ago. Then it had been join or die. Now, after witnessing what had happened to Lung, Lisa wondered if she'd chosen correctly all those months ago.

More than anything, she needed to get the hell away from Brockton Bay.

~~~Railgun~~~

I collapsed to my knees, radiating the heat of the half molten pavement to a point a hundred feet overhead. It was only through an act of will that I didn't throw up as my stomach roiled.

Instead, I considered what I had just done. I'd killed again. Lung was dead, not even his regeneration proof against having his head cut off.

I'd done it because he scared me to death, too elemental, too unstoppable to feel like I could just defeat him. Not much of a defense, I thought and considered taking off. But Armsmaster was still unconscious behind me and I couldn't leave him here helpless and unable to defend himself. Likely, members of the ABB still lurked in the surrounding area, even if I couldn't see any nearby.

Instead, I rose into the air until my feet dangled an inch off of the pavement. In truth, I didn't trust my knees to support my own weight, let alone even a portion of my armor's. I levitated to where he lay.

I lowered myself into a kneeling position next to his supine form. Hesitating a second, I removed one of my gauntlets and felt for a heartbeat. I couldn't actually reach the pulse in neck, his armor's fit thwarting me, but the gaping hole in his armor's breastplate allowed me to touch his chest where I could feel the steady thump of his heart.

Not that I wasn't already aware that he was still alive. The same sense that detected bio-electric fields let me know when one was fading, something which Armsmaster's wasn't. But if there was a problem with his heart, it would be better to know so I could tell the paramedics. Of course it would be even better if he could tell them himself.

So I tried to wake him. "Armsmaster! Wake up!"

Unfortunately, that did not bring him around. I decided not to mess with his armor as I didn't know what booby traps he might have on it. Instead, I rose back to my feet and decided to do something about the fires that were still burning.

I smothered them one by one with iron sand, then surveyed the battlefield, carefully avoiding examining Lung's decapitated form. In the distance, I could hear sirens approaching. Then a closer sound brought my attention back to my immediate surroundings.

I hurried over to where Armsmaster half lay. He was coughing hard and his spittle was tinged with blood. Worried sick, I asked, "Armsmaster? Can you hear me?"

With a final hacking cough, he fell silent for a second. When he finally spoke, it was a shock. "I hear you, Tesla. Report."

I felt both my eyebrows go up at the abrupt command, but if anyone had earned being a little cranky, it was Armsmaster. In as even a tone as I could managed, I said, "Lung's dead. The Undersiders are gone. I put out all of the fires which were burning. I..."

My voice trailed off as I ran out of things to say. Fortunately, Armsmaster filled the silence. "What happened to Lung?"

I hedged, "He was coming after you. After you went down, I mean. I though he was going to kill you. He'd already threatened to. I..."

Armsmaster's voice was surprisingly gentle as he asked, "What did you do, Tesla?"

"I killed him."

The starkness of the words lay between us like a barricade and I wondered if I'd thrown away everything that I'd been working for. While I hadn't gotten into trouble for killing the Merchants, Lung hadn't had a Kill Order looming over his head. Why not, I didn't know. But a hero was responsible for bringing him in alive if at all possible.

"You saved my life."

I was surprised by Armsmaster's words. I shrugged. Weakly, I said, "Maybe?"

He coughed hard, blood coming up again. When he could speak again, Armsmaster said, "Not maybe. I underestimated Lung. Made a mistake. My predictive program wasn't ready and I tried to use it on him. Nearly got me killed. If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead."

Involuntarily, I felt a sense of pride fill me. At the same time, I couldn't stop the words that spilled out of me. "It was the most impressive thing I've ever seen, you fighting Lung. For a while, I thought you'd take him."

Armsmaster's lips curved upward in a sardonic smile. "Skill and guts will only take you so far. Unfortunately, my gear was not equal to the test."

My voice small, I suggested, "It would be if I worked it over."

We both regarded one another in silence after my words and that was how they found us, the cavalcade of vehicles filled with members of the Protectorate and PRT troopers. Surrounded by dozens of people, many of whom were giving me suspicious looks, more than anything, I wanted to run.

Only the hand on my arm kept me from fleeing.

An hour later, as I sat in a chair facing the leader of the local PRT, Director Piggot, all I could think of was that Dad was going to be so upset at me for breaking the rules. With my luck, he was going to add two or three more just to deal with the situations I kept getting into. Joy.

~~~Railgun~~~

AN: Sorry about the delay in updating. Had a few issues come up recently, plus I spent my writing time watching the Olympics. Should be updating a bit more regularly for the next while.

The Rules:

Talk with Dad before I go out. Plan what I was trying to accomplish.

Buy a cell phone to call Dad or the PRT if I make a citizen's arrest.

Make and sell the metal cloth clothing to find out how good the money is.

Dad will wait up to make sure I get home all right.

Come up with a way to keep myself safe when not wearing my armor.

~~~Railgun~~~