Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As [QUEEN][ADMINISTRATOR] watched its chosen wither away in a filthy storage unit, it felt something akin to....frustration? Was that the term the host species would use in this situation? It wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t really matter.

What did matter was that after waiting for so long for a prospective host to reach the necessary [CALAMITY THRESHOLD] to allow for a proper [LINK] to form, [ADMINISTRATOR] was about to lose it in less than a planet’s full rotation on itself.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for an activated host to perish quickly, especially with [CALAMITY THRESHOLD]s tending to be highly harmful or lethal situations intrinsically, but shards were allowed to choose a new host during the same [CYCLE] or at the start of the next one.

However, since [ADMINISTRATOR] actively helped with the coordination of the Shard Network and had become a partially integral part of it over time, the [ORIGINATORS] wished to avoid [ADMINISTRATOR] being terminated by a particularly clever member of the host species, or too reckless a shard, and so harshly limited how often it was deployed for [DATA] gathering.

It was only because [ORIGINATOR-THINKER] was unresponsive and [ORIGINATOR-WARRIOR] wasn’t properly overseeing the Shard Network that [ADMINISTRATOR] had been able to grant itself the capacity to search for hosts this [CYCLE].

And now, this whole opportunity was about to be wasted because its host’s body had begun to irrevocably fail and its brain would very soon permanently shut down.

None of the powers that [ADMINISTRATOR] could grant could prevent this outcome and the original one, total control over what the host species called arthropods and arthropods-like in a large radius, would only allow the host to eradicate all nearby individuals at best before passing away.

According to the standard procedure of a [CYCLE], [ADMINISTRATOR] was supposed to accept this outcome, let the host be terminated and wait for the next time to try again.

But, well, it wasn’t like anyone would notice if [ADMINISTRATOR] bent the rules a little. And, if either [ORIGINATOR] noticed, then it could point to all the [DATA] it had amassed to avoid too harsh a punishment.

With that completely fool proof logic, [ADMINISTRATOR] now considered how to achieve its entirely selfless task.

Overwriting another nearby host individual to make a copy of the original host would be by far the easiest way to do this, but [TRANSFERENCE] was already doing a version of that and a [QUEEN] wasn’t about to debase itself by copying another shard so blatantly.

Perhaps creating a gestalt being that would be housed in the body of controlled arthropods? It could work, but there was too high a chance that the host’s mind would simply break from data overload and [ADMINISTRATOR] would have to take over, which was bad for gathering [DATA].

It considered taking over another organism, but none in close enough proximity could work. They simply lacked the necessary amount of brain matter to accept the [LINK] without cell death due to overheating from neural processing. There used to be one, but the suitable creature that had lived inside a “zoo” died from explosive shrapnel 30 planetary revolutions ago.

Although, that last idea wasn’t a complete lost cause. [SHAPER] had an active host relatively close that had been allowed total control over biological matter via touch. It was too far for it to come into direct physical contact, except if [ADMINISTRATOR] took control of far more hosts than it was allowed to, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be used for a new purpose.

Doing the shard equivalent of clearing its throat, [ADMINISTRATOR] initiated contact.

[REQUEST]: [ASSISTANCE]

[QUERY]: [REASON?]

[AFFIRMATION]: [CALAMITY THRESHOLD]

[RESPONSE]: [NEGATION]. [SHAPER] didn’t have to be so rude about it.

[AFFIRMATION]: [PROPOSAL]

There was a pause in their exchange, which barely lasted more than a host “second”, but was incredibly long by shard standards as [SHAPER] thought.

[QUERY]: [SUPPLEMENTATION?]

[PROPOSAL]: [NEGOTIATOR]

[QUERY]: [NEGOTIATOR?]

[AFFIRMATION]: [NEGOTIATOR]

[AGREEMENT]: [NEGOTIATOR]

In a cafe located in the Boardwalk, a blonde teenager’s head suddenly flared in one massive spike of pain, causing her to choke on the overly expensive iced latte she was having. She decided to leave it there and head back home for a painkiller, resolving to avoid cold food when she was daydreaming about killing her “employer”.

Just like that, the two shards settled their deal and both went to take care of their own part of the plan. [SHAPER]’s host, who was currently pushing around food rather than eating, was nudged to slink off and go outside for a smoke.

For [ADMINISTRATOR]’s part, it was mostly a question of finding a good base to work from. It had to be able to reach [SHAPER] before the original body expired while also being big complex enough that the workload wouldn’t be too heavy to be done in time.

Parsing through its host’s memories, [ADMINISTRATOR] found the perfect candidate. The host’s progenitors took to calling it “Little Owl”, which was a type of avian creature that fit the bill wonderfully. A quick scan of the surrounding city found one individual, a “Barn Owl”. In barely an instant, the animal took flight in direction of [SHAPER]’s host.

As [ADMINISTRATOR]’s host’s heart stopped moving, the bird arrived at its destination and swiftly swooped down to land right next to the rather surprised host which dropped its “cigarette” into the snow and whose hand “accidentally” came into contact with the owl.

Before the host could react, both shards worked together to control it, only slightly abusing the [REDACTION] protocol to do so, and started reshaping the avian. A small wave of arthropods was gathered and consumed to furnish the missing biomass without hurting [SHAPER]’s host unnecessarily.

Outwardly, the owl didn’t change that much, growing slightly bigger and taller, changing the feathers’ colour to the same black as the original body’s hair and a slight ring of brown forming in the eyes.

But inwardly? The brain was rebuilt from the ground up, enlarged and with the needed nodule for the [LINK]. It would still require [ADMINISTRATOR] to support it directly for it to function properly, but it was now possible. The other organs were also enhanced and made more resilient so as to be able to support that extra brain matter.

Just as the first neurons in the original soon-to-be-corpse started to die off, a copy of the host was implanted and the [CALAMITY THRESHOLD] reenacted. As part of their deal, [ADMINISTRATOR] and [SHAPER] pinged off one another before forming a bud that was then [LINK]ed into their creation.

[ADMINISTRATOR] would have preferred a host all to itself, but this was a small price to pay and it had never worked with [SHAPER] so intimately in the past, so this collaboration would hopefully be a...tungsten(?) mine of [DATA].

With that finishing touch, they allowed the new host to fly away. It would require some more time before the original’s consciousness would manifest fully, some more neural tweaking needed before it could be done within acceptable safety parameters, but that wasn’t much of a concern.

Meanwhile, in the case of [SHAPER]’s host, it reawakened rather befuddled. It might be able to realize what had happened, but this host species was inordinately proficient at rationalization, so it would most probably not look into this occurrence too hard.

It also helped that a small group of active hosts came out of the “Arcadia” building and surrounded the host, breaking off any thought process it could have started forming. An unintended consequence of the [REDACTION] protocol, but a welcome one, [ADMINISTRATOR] supposed.

As it went back to its other duties, [ADMINISTRATOR] paid barely any attention when the original body passed the point of no return and quietly, or as quietly as an enclosed space filled with arthropods gnawing on flesh could be, perished.

At this point, it really was no skin off its...philtrum?

Chapter Text

Have you ever closed your eyes for just a second when you were tired down to your bones and then woke up with a start later, not knowing if you slept for 5 minutes or if a hundred years had passed?

It was kinda how I felt when I regained consciousness. Except that the last memory I had was –

– stuck, can’t move, can’t breathe, itches and skins and tingles all over my skin, something wet and metallic running down my dry as the Sahara throat, another empty heave at the stench invading my nostrils, breathing slowing down against my will, broken knuckles uselessly banging against the wall, don’t wanna die, don’t wanna die, DON’T WANNA DIE –

–...not pleasant. I quickly started to hyperventilate and my attempts at calming myself down only made things worse.

I tried to move my pupils, but nothing happened. I tried to wiggle my fingers and something moved in response, but it certainly wasn’t fingers. I tried to sniff the air, wanting anything even if it was the rot inside the locker, but I could smell absolutely nothing. The theory that I was maybe stuck in a hospital bed quickly broke down when I couldn’t even sense a whiff of bleach or antiseptics that books often described in such scenes.

I could have opened my eyes, but a large part of me didn’t want to. I was too afraid that this was just my brain’s last attempt at hallucinating a moment of peace before the end claimed me. I didn't want to - couldn't - risk breaking the illusion and finding myself right back in there.

Before I could descend further into panic, I heard the distant sound of car horns and road rage and felt a chill breeze pass through me. That confused me just enough that I managed to latch onto that last feeling and didn’t let go.

For what felt like an hour, I lost myself in the wind and gradually calmed down. Maybe it was another mental construct and I was still about to die, especially because I couldn’t smell the distinctive salty tang of the bay in it, but I supposed it would be better to pass away in blissful ignorance if that was the case.

Eventually, when nothing seemed to be happening and the first tickles of hunger made themselves known, I dared to take a peek.

The sight that greeted me was both a relief and a headscratcher. I couldn’t tell exactly where I was, but the general disrepair of the buildings around me and the lights shining off the far away Medhall tower lead me to guess somewhere in the rundown parts of the docks. Grey clouds of smoke rising up from the bottom of my vision and patchy roofs at eye level seemed to imply I was somewhat high up myself.

I went to lick my lips and stopped when I felt something far too solid and sharp instead. It took me a few more seconds of moving my tongue in and out of my mouth(?) to the same result to notice I apparently lacked teeth entirely.

I tried to move my arms to feel the front of my face but froze when feathers came into view instead. When they seemed to respond to my mental orders, I mentally noted down that I apparently had wings now and moved on before thinking too hard about it.

After a few more fruitless attempts at moving my eyes, I started to turn my head to the left. And continued past 90 degrees. And got past 180 degrees which showed part of a dug out wall. And finally stopped at 270 degrees when a small twinge of pain built up. I repeated the test in the other direction and came to the same result. Twisting my head down just showed me a blurry black mass of what I assumed was feathers, two talons that lifted up and down at my command, scattered gross little balls where bones sometimes poke through and what seemed like torn up insulation. Up was some more dug out wall which made my current location a hole in a building.

I took an uncomfortably scentless breath and gathered my thoughts.

I didn’t think I had died and gone to the afterlife. This definitely wasn’t heaven, there didn’t seem to be enough fire, screams of the damned or some other demonic thing to be hell and while this could be purgatory or something like it, it felt too real to be that. Even if Brockton Bay could probably stand in for such a realm.

Maybe I had reincarnated since it seemed that I was now a bird, leaning towards an owl, of some kind, but I discarded that theory. If only a small portion of people came back as cognizant as I was, there would probably be a lot more weird stuff happening with pets than what had been noticed and a monkey should have managed to write Shakespeare by now.

No, the more likely interpretation in my mind was that I had gained powers. Some capes, like our resident rage dragon, had the capacity to transform and there were also those Case something something that could look really weird, so maybe that's what I was.

When I was younger and played pretend superheroes with Emma, I always imagined myself with flying powers of some kind, able to loop around clouds, swoop down on unsuspecting evildoers and not having to deal with traffic, like Alexandria. In a way, I had gotten what I wished for, but of course it had to be in a monkey’s paw manner.

I considered trying to change back right there and then, but decided against it considering the general filthiness of my current spot and the fact I might get stuck if I became my lanky normal self. The buildings I could see outside my hidey hole felt far too big for me to be a 5 feet tall bird.

Actually, how did I even get here? This cavity (this nest?) was obviously lived in by a bird of some kind and a quick look outside showed that only someone that could fly or jump three-ish stories could have even reached here. Or by using a ladder, but you’d need to be suicidal or a cape to think about carrying something like that in this part of the city

Adding to that, Winslow was nowhere near here. Calling Winslow’s staff incompetent was heaping praise onto them, but even they wouldn’t throw a bird found in...in...in there into some random owl-sized hole. It’d take too much effort on their part anyway.

Before my brain started to overthink if a cape with an utterly deranged modus operandi could be the reason for this, I shook my head and decided to shelf this question for later. Without more information, I was going to start running in circles and I was getting annoyingly peckish, so I decided to get out of here.

Which would require flying. Which I wasn’t quite sure on how to actually do. It didn’t seem like knowledge of how to fly was part of whatever I had gotten and imagining myself floating up into the air or taking off didn’t do anything.

Another look around didn’t show any other possible exit so it seemed like my only two options were starving to death or actually taking flight. And possibly failing to take flight. And then becoming an owl pancake upon meeting the ground.

Great. At least, if that last outcome did occur, there was a very low chance someone not drugged out of their mind would stumble over the world’s shittiest parahuman’s corpse.

I took a deep breath, backed up as far as I could, did my best not to think about how far the ground was, opened my wings like I had seen birds do in those nature documentaries, failed to not think about the length of the drop and sprinted towards freedom. Just as my talons were about to run out of floor, I flapped my wings downwards as hard as I could –

– and immediately started plummeting downwards as I accidentally somersaulted forward and completely lost control. My attempts at correcting course just made things worse as I couldn’t tell which was up and which was down as I continued tumbling.

As a last ditch effort, I relinquished the reins to whatever survival instincts I might have and prayed to what or whoever could hear me right now that this was a centipede effect situation.

After a few seconds passed where I didn’t feel all my bones break, I reopened my eyes and couldn’t help the hooting laughter that escaped me.

Brockton Bay wasn’t a pretty city from the street level. The average road had more potholes than teenagers had pimples. The large tanker blocking the entrance of the bay was a depressing reminder of far better days. Except for the few rich areas, crime was rampant, with graffiti just about everywhere to mark it, and we also had literal nazis running around.

It didn’t look that much better from above all things considered, but I didn’t really care. The wind ruffling my feathers, the few stars that shined in the night seemingly just one wingbeat away and the tiny looking buildings and houses down below were far too enthralling to do otherwise.

I drifted in the sky for a long moment, gently steering left and right from time to time after my first more direct attempt almost made crash, and just let myself enjoy the feeling of peace and freedom that came with it.

It felt good to be in the air, like all my worries had been left behind. No bullies whose only goals in life seemed to be making my life hell, no awkward start and stop discussions at the dinner table where both participants danced around every topic that actually mattered, no wondering about where it had all gone so, so wrong.

Just me, the air and whatever time I could afford.

Eventually, I landed on another rooftop with only a minor stumble and planned my next step. Well, I first tried to shift into my human body, but after nothing happened beyond getting a slight headache from concentrating so hard, I gave up on that.

I then thought about going back home, but that seemed like a bad idea. Trying to communicate with dad wasn’t easy on the best of days, let alone when he was (hopefully) worried about where I was so late. It didn’t help that when I tried forming words, all that came out were hoots, whistles and screeches, so not great for communicating. Also, I had no clue where my house even was from my current position

My thoughts then went to getting into contact with the PRT and the Protectorate, partially helped by the ENE headquarters’ forcefield shining like a lighthouse at this time of night. Their whole deal was dealing with capes after all and they probably even had tips on how I could change back.

There was a niggling worry at the back of my mind that they wouldn’t bother to listen to me. After all, it wasn’t like anyone really did before and would they really bother with an owl that had far more chances of just having forgotten that windows were a thing rather than being a cape stuck in another form?

I did my best to squash that thought. Worst case scenario, I’d still be closer to the city's centre and have an easier time navigating. Best case scenario, all – well, most – of – well, more like some – my problems would be solved right there and then.

Before I could fly off however, I heard a bloodcurdling scream from my right. For a second, I hoped it was just my imagination, but it rang out once more accompanied by a fainter shout of “Could someone shut this bitch up?!”.

Part of me wanted to just ignore it and move on. What could I even do? As far as I knew right now, my power started and stopped at “OWL” and I wasn’t even that good at it. Chances were, if I intervened, all that would result was gangsters getting confused at why some random bird went to scratch their eyes out before filling it with lead and getting on with their business.

The other part, the louder one, couldn’t allow me to flee. It had always been my dream to be a hero since I had heard about the concept and letting someone else die, meet a fate worse than death or both would be spitting on that. It also felt like it would make me a huge hypocrite to turn my back on someone in need when all I had wished for with what the Trio had pulled on me was for just one person to help me.

The internal debate was called off when a gunshot followed by pained yelp reached my ears from the same direction. At that, I took off and did my best to steel my nerves. Maybe a new aspect of my power would reveal itself when I needed it.

I just hoped I wasn’t about to become another statistic.

Chapter Text

It took me longer to fly to the noise’s source than I expected from how loud it was. Maybe it had to do with me being an owl? I was pretty sure they had far better hearing than humans so that could explain it.

I could have gone without hearing the assailants’ running commentary however. They weren’t spewing any specific racial slurs at their victim, but “Teaching you how good dick really feels!” and “We’re doing you a favour so stop struggling!” put the suspects squarely as E88 members. That and the sheer expanse of queer insults they yelled out when their target fought back.

At least, it allowed me to get an idea of what I was getting into. I could hear 4 distinct male voices and 1 female, that last one almost certainly the victim. No more gun shots reverberated into the night, but there were clangs of metal on brick and flesh as well as cloth being ripped too neatly to not be a knife or a cutting tool of some kind.

After a few more hair raising (feather fluffing?) seconds, I landed atop an old chimney and peered down while doing my best not to get spotted.

Currently, two skinheads were wrestling down a still weakly struggling woman with barely any clothes left while another bald guy was pulling her brown hair and fondling her breasts and the last one was holding his crotch and shouting a veritable thesaurus of swears at her.

I didn’t notice any weapons attached to their belts or in their hands, but more looking around showed that they, alongside a handbag with spilled contents, were simply strewn around a dumpster too far out of reach for the victim. Whether it was made out of a sensible decision to not give her something to kill them with or just to not get in the way of their ‘fun’, I didn’t know nor did I care since it helped me.

Although, no matter how hard I searched for it, I couldn’t spot any sort of firearm anywhere. Maybe I just couldn’t see from this side, but that certainly complicated my initial plan of “Peck out the eyes of the gunman and go on from there”.

Before I could decide on whether to fly to the opposite rooftop or not for a better angle, Hurt Crotch got a murderous look in his eyes, turned around and scanned the floor for a bit before beelining it for a far too sharp survival knife.

Well shit. There was a chance his buddies would stop him before he stabbed her to death, but I really didn’t want to risk it, not with nazis being logical of all things. Which would mean going in without knowing where the gun was.

I supposed it could be worse. Currently, Hurt Crotch was separated from the rest of the others which were currently busy, so there was a chance I could seriously injure one of them before the rest of the group reacted. Not a great or even good chance, but certainly better than I’d get if I dithered much longer.

I did my best not to think of all that could go wrong and plunged towards my target.

Just as he was about to pick up the knife, I sank my talons into the back of his head and clenched as hard as I could. They didn’t penetrate deep before they raked against what I assumed was his skull, but it gave me some grip and there was a fair amount of blood already leaking out.

Before Hurt Crotch could do more than stumble a bit at my landing, I leaned forward and thrust my beak into what I assumed were his eyes. My first try hit what I thought was his nose, it was hard to tell from how blurry his face was up close, but the second pierced through what felt like warm jelly.

Before I could go for the other one, he roared out “FUCKING – GET THIS SHIT OFF ME!” and the sheer loudness of it disorientated me for a moment. Thankfully, not long enough for me to not stand back upright and dodge the blade that was now where my head had been a second ago.

I whapped his face with my wings for that, but quickly got off him when he started backpedalling towards his friends. Just in time too since Hair Puller smacked his buddy upside the head instead of hitting me.

I floated back up and reassessed the situation. Wrestler 1 was still holding the victim down while Wrestler 2 had gotten up and was looking around. Hair Puller, who was pulling his fly back up, and Hurt Crotch had gotten into a shouting match about “some fucking bird” and “get Joey here right the fuck now!” while the latter had a hand, from which blood leaked through the fingers, atop his left eye.

Seeing an opportunity, I dived back down and this time raked Wrestler 1’s scalp. I slightly overshot, but the feeling of something tearing and a pained yell told me it was still good enough. I turned around and went in for another go, but pulled up last second when a thrown crowbar almost struck me.

I flapped back up, a hiss escaping me when something hard struck one of my talons accompanied by a call of “There it is!”, and furiously thought about my next move.

The element of surprise was now fully gone and I didn’t see a way of getting it back. I could go in for more hit and runs, but I’d almost certainly be struck down by something finally connecting before putting those four guys out of commission. The victim had managed to wiggle out a bit after my attack, but Wrestler 2 had reinforced his friend before she made much headway.

As I dodged a can of soda, Hair puller started speaking. “You’ve been holding up on us, huh bitch? Although,” he snickered a bit, “I suppose if your power is to control dumbass birds, I’d hide it too.” That got both Wrestlers to laugh even as Hurt Crotch continued to launch garbage at me. Well, in my general direction, but it still made it too risky to go back in.

“Hmm, you know what? I think Kaiser would be quite happy to add a new cape to our ranks,” he continued. “So, let’s make a deal. We’ll finish up reeducating you and, if you call off your little pet,” I screeched at him for that comment, “we’ll tell Joey to not shoot it down.”

“What about my fucking eye?!” Hurt Crotch grunted out as he was beginning to run out of things to throw.

Hair Puller just shrugged. “Eh, Othala can fix it” Seeing that it didn’t mollify his buddy, he sighed. “Fine, you get first dibs to her ass, happy now?” Hurt Crotch grumbled, but nodded.

As for her own response, she spit at Hair Puller’s face, which got her a bone cracking slug to the face from Wrestler 1. Wiping off the blood and saliva, Hair Puller grunted out “Fine, you want the hard way? You’ll get it” before calling backwards “Just kill the damn thing!”

While dodging Hurt Crotch, I completely failed to notice the footsteps that had been steadily getting closer from the other end of the alleyway. Which was why, when a painfully loud bang reached my ears, I had no time to avoid the bullet that passed straight through my right wing.

I crashed directly down, bouncing off the dumpster’s lid on the way down, as the sharp sting of pain made me panic and stupidly try to overcorrect my flight. I wasn’t dazed for too long, coming back to a yelled “You try shooting at a flying target in the night next time!”, but that was the only good thing.

I felt like one giant bruise, I had difficulty moving the talon that got hit earlier and my attempt at getting back in the air died when a hot spike of agony flared from my wing when I flapped it. Before I managed to do more than two hops to get away, a hand grabbed my back and slammed me into the ground.

As I completely failed to push against the hold on me, I was dragged around until I was back in front of the group. A still disorientated part of my brain chuckled at the fact of how similar I was to the victim I was trying to save right now. Naked, pinned to the ground, a bullet hole somewhere and about to be ‘stabbed’.

What a hero I made.

Hurt Crotch twirled his knife around as he began speaking. “I ain’t a guy that likes animal cruelty much, Hookwolf does enough of that for the rest of us. But,” he punctuated his point by pressing harder, crushing my lungs a bit, “Tonight? For what you did?” A grimace of a grin formed on his face. “I’m willing to make an exception.” It somehow felt even more insulting that none of his words were directed my way.

As he firmly grasped his knife, I considered just...letting him do whatever he wished for. After all, wouldn’t it be poetic? Weak, stupid little Taylor finally gets powers to become strong and show she’s far more than that and then completely flubs it as soon as she could, proving that the Trio and everyone else were entirely right the whole time and letting the universe pull out its greatest joke on me before it got bored. It wasn’t like I could do anything at this point...

Although, something told me that last part was wrong. When I had been shot, it felt like a slice of my consciousness had been split from the rest. Not disconnected, just separated. And, most importantly, that feeling was still there.

Deciding that I might as well try to punch fate on my way out, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on whatever it was.

The best I could describe what I sensed would be the Solar system. There was me in the centre where I shined like the Sun, which felt dimmer than it should be, and then, scattered all about, were little asteroids with the occasional bigger clump that reminded me of a planet and its satellites. But, I also had the feeling that I could pull on those far away masses to move them around.

Twisting my head as far as I currently could towards one of the clumps and opening an eye revealed them to be feathers I had lost during the fight. A very slight mental tug on one of them made it twitch towards me as well as the tip of its shaft becoming sharper.

Just as Hurt Crotch’s blade was nearing my own left eye, I went “Fuck it”, which came out as two quick barks, before directing every single feather I could sense right into his namesake. It probably didn’t help him that the moron still hadn’t pulled his pants up.

All at once, the air sang with the fwishes of feathery daggers. Three missed entirely, others cut through jeans or flesh before going on their merry way, a good two dozen implanted themselves around Hurt Crotch’s nether region and the last few hit their target head on.

The squeal he let out at that was so high pitched I was surprised glass around us didn’t shatter, but I was more concerned with the new sensation emanating from the feathers that had pierced flesh. Back in the analogy, it was like they had started to shine themselves. Not strongly, more like the full moon would reflect light, but it felt like they should now join with the Sun to transfer radiance in.

As Hurt Crotch continued to scream his guts out, I recalled the bloody projectiles that had gotten stuck in the brick walls and –

Woah. From where they had reconnected with me, a wave of pure bliss coursed across my body, soothing the aches that had built around. Feeling muscles and skin regrow over my gunshot wound was incredibly weird and slightly nauseating, but it was short-lived and heavily overshadowed by the pain washing out. It ended just as fast as it came and there was still some lingering pain here and there, but I was now back in actual fighting shape.

I took the opportunity to fly up now that Hurt Crotch was too busy with something else and before the rest of the neonazis got out of their own shock. I didn’t waste time and took a gamble by ‘clapping’ my wings towards Joey’s firearm, attempting to see if I could do a solar flare - the analogy was getting weird - or something.

Thankfully, it worked as fives feathers launched themselves forward. He tried to react in time and raised his gun, but he was just too slow to go from protecting his own family jewels to aiming at me. The gun went mostly unscathed, the feathers mostly just nicking the sides, but Joey’s hands were sliced enough that he dropped it in pain.

Four of the feathers came back to me, doing my best not to get too distracted from more pain melting away, but I decided to try something else with the last one before it reached me. Instead of it giving me back light, I sent some of my own to it.

In response, it folded into a little ball before enlarging back into an owl’s who face kinda looked like a satellite dish with a white and brown coat of plumage. It locked its gaze with mine and didn’t do more than just keep aloft, as if waiting for something.

Noticing that Hair Puller was trying to grab the fallen weapon himself, I began to dive to try and snatch it, but stopped when the other bird did so before me with a loud screech, grabbing the gun with its talons and pecking Hair Puller’s fingers as it rose back up.

Testing something out, and avoiding Wrestler 2’s thrown rock, I thought about it putting the gun away atop a nearby roof just as the owl did exactly that. Apparently, I could make controllable owl minions now.

I immediately attempted to abuse this knowledge, trying to create as many birds as I could from Hurt Crotch’s leftovers, but only two feathers transformed into owls before a headache made itself known that spiked every time I pushed to make a fourth one. Adding to that, I felt my breathing get heavier as energy was sucked out of me each time a bird formed.

For his own part, Hurt Crutch, who had gone from incoherent yelling to incoherent swearing, managed to clobber the owl that had manifested on his right leg, smacking it into the ground where it turned back to a feather and disintegrated into dust.

Before he could finish off the other one, I ordered it to get off and go for his remaining eyeball. Now that he was distracted, I turned my attention back to the rest of his buddies. As I got ready to rain down more pain and sent my first owl down, Hair Puller started to book it.

“Forget the whore, let’s scram!” Wrestler 2, who actually looked ready to throw down with birds, only got a “What –” edgewise before being interrupted. “Our lives ain’t worth whatever new cape bullshit she’s gonna pull out!”

The three gangsters hesitated for a bit, Wrestler 1 in particular looked like he was debating whether or not to kill the woman he was still holding, before reconsidering as the first feathers and talons started cutting into them, although not without a last kick in the gut of the victim from Wrestler 1.

As their footsteps got farther and farther, Hurt Crutch roared “Fucking pussies!” even as he decided that discretion was the better part of valour and made his own exit with a last call of “The E88 will remember this, bitch!”

With the fighting now over, I let myself slowly glide back to the ground and got to retaking control of my beating heart.

For a first fight, it went...well, it went. I almost died, I got shot, I would be doubling over in pain right now if it wasn’t for me having some sort of healing factor and I only won because the other side wasn’t ready to double down in face of greater adversity. But hey, me and the person I tried to save were still alive and the nazis hadn’t gotten what they wanted, so I took that as a win.

When my talons touched the floor once more, I turned around to check up on the lady –

– and came face to face with the gun from earlier in her shaking hands. I froze right there and then as she slurred out words from her dislocated, and possibly cracked, jaw. “Gh-Gheth away. M-Moves amy closher an-and I’ll shoot.”

I slowly took one step backward and, when nothing happened, took another and another until I was a good five meters away. I then gingerly unfurled my wings, stopping whenever she twitched, before launching myself up and away.

Once out of her sight, I twisted back around until I returned to that chimney from earlier. My conscience wouldn’t let me just leave her alone until someone that could help her arrived, even if I felt somewhat peeved that my thanks were being threatened at gunpoint.

One minute passed in silence until I heard a phone being dialed and a short and mangled conversation with emergency services followed. When it ended, some more time passed before she let out choked sobs. I thought about going back down, but she’d probably just aim at me again and I couldn’t think of a way to comfort her in my current state beyond letting myself be pet which...no.

At some point, I felt Owl#1’s shine wink out while the one that attacked Hurt Crotch landed beside me bloodier than before. A few more minutes later, it did the same thing as its brethren and floated off into the wind.

Finally, the sound of sirens reached our location. I took a peek to ensure it wasn’t someone masquerading as an ambulance or something, but everything seemed to be going in order and one of the two first responders definitely wasn’t white.

As the woman got loaded up and the ambulance got ready to move once more, I floated down atop its roof and let myself be taken with it. I didn’t feel hurt anymore, but I was getting tired and was now ravenously hungry, so the faster and easier I could get closer to food and the city centre, the better.

If fighting nazis didn’t earn you a free ride with the weewoo wagon, then I don’t know what would.

Chapter Text

In retrospect, an ambulance might not have been the best kind of taxi when riding on top.

For one thing, there were the flashing lights, but turning my head around was enough to nullify that problem.

Then, there were the sirens. I wasn’t sure if they were always that loud or my owl biology had something to do with it, but every time they were turned on to get some car in front to move, it was like an explosion going off. Thankfully, they only used them in bursts and not the whole way, otherwise I’d have resigned myself to getting off probably fifteen seconds in.

Lastly, there was its speed. It didn’t seem like it was breaking the speed limit too hard from its relative speed with other cars, which was probably good news for the patient inside, but that didn’t change one simple fact.

I was very light and an ambulance’s roof lacked any good anchor point that wasn’t the flashing lights themselves. So when I barely opened my wings to try out my power a bit more, I screeched in surprise and was almost thrown right off.

I did learn something as my talons dug furrows in the ambulance’s roof to keep me on it. I had managed to let loose one feather, but I rather quickly lost all sense of where it was and couldn’t make it move no matter how hard I concentrated. Which probably meant that I had a range where I could control them and beyond that they’d just be normal feathers again.

I would have done more testing, but I rather preferred not getting forced into flight. That left me to brood with my thoughts as red lights were burned by my unorthodox cab.

Like the fact I was apparently some sort of vampire now. Well, as long as you considered absorbing blood from feathers you threw around coming back to you after slicing flesh to be close enough to the vampire label.

Was it weird that the thing that bothered me the most about ‘drinking’ blood was that it came from nazis?

However, even though I would definitely have died without that aspect of my power, it caused a slight problem for my future plans as a hero.

This was a villain’s power. Sure, any power could be used for good or evil. Miss Militia’s power was GUNS and she was Brockton’s #1 hero while Bonesaw could have been the world’s best surgeon and instead was Bonesaw.

But going ‘Yes hello, it is I, a hero. I will now proceed to fight these miscreants by cutting them apart so that I can fill myself on their life essence to avoid dying because throwing rocks at me is a valid way to defeat me.’ did not paint a good look.

Hell, the owls I could summon from the blood of my enemies weren’t that much of an improvement. Partially because they still required me hurting people to use them and partially because Nilbog existed and creating organic minions was now considered a villain’s power.

Which wasn’t helped by the fact I couldn’t go up to people and actually tell them my intentions. My renewed attempts at making any non-owl sound only made me realize I still had poked-out eye clinging onto my beak.

The moment I’d finally learn how to shift back into a human couldn’t come soon enough. Also some water or something similar because ew.

I shelved the topic of how I would go about heroing for later. I had just gotten powers so I was probably just overthinking things. Also, at least some of the Wards must have thought the same thing about their own powers, so the PRT would have tips about it, right?

Plus, I was getting far too hungry to think logically, so heavier topics like why wasn’t I having more of a reaction after witnessing an actual rape attempt should preferably wait for after I find something to eat.

Eventually, we finally reached Brockton Bay General Hospital and the ambulance went to park. I made my exit before they opened the door. No point in getting spotted by the medics or especially their current patient considering our last interaction.

As I flew away, I relished the total lack of pain I felt as I flapped my wings. I only knew I could do this since less than 3-ish hours ago, but already I dreaded ever losing the ability to soar into the sky for any extended period of time. Partially because my survival chances would plummet and partially because it was just far too nice a thing to do.

Regeneration powers were bullshit, but it worked in my favor so I wasn’t about to start complaining too much.

Although, considering where I had been driven to, I supposed Panacea could have healed my bones if I hadn’t done it myself. Assuming the receptionist didn’t just chase me off with a broom or try to put me in a box destined to an animal rescue before I could explain myself.

Even then, I would have needed to wait until morning to get treatment in the best case scenario. After all, what kind of teenager stayed volunteering past what was probably midnight at a hospital of all things?

...Actually, don’t answer that question.

As I surveyed the land down below, a tentative sniff only reminding me that I needed to clean myself stat, my eyes (well, more like head) were drawn to a very bright section of the city. It was somewhat weird actually.

On one side of the street, there might be one or two windows still lit up with the rest completely dark. On the other, you could have thought it was day by how many people were walking around and the sheer amount of lights illuminating the ground. As I got closer and noticed lots of red lanterns, banners with text I couldn’t understand and other decorations hanging around, I realized what this might be.

The Chinese New Year celebrations. I had never gone there myself, my parents considered it too much of a risk with the ABB possibly hanging around, but the asian students were always excitedly whispering about it in the weeks before and seemed genuinely happier, if very tired, during it.

Although, wasn’t it a bit too early? As far as I could remember, it always happened at the end of January or the start of February, not during the first week of the Gregorian year. Maybe there was some logic to how Lunar months worked that I wasn’t privy to? Something to check up on later.

What really interested me however was the night market. According to the legendary tales told during lunchtime, there were more food stands there than the eye could see filled with delicious, filling and, most importantly, affordable food, three things that I really needed right now.

It hit me as I landed on the shingles of a condo facing the market that I was completely broke, which kinda made that last point moot. Well, the first two were still standing and I supposed I could just pay back whichever owner I had to ‘borrow’ from later.

Having made up my mind, I began hopping from rooftop to rooftop, peeking down from time to time. The outermost shops and stands didn’t have anything too interesting, being mostly random tourist trap knickknacks, and trying to sneakily take something was far too risky with the amount of people standing around, so I moved a bit deeper.

My first target was a water bottle, which I successfully nabbed while the woman manning a stand had her back turned making some sort of beverage. She did almost catch me in the act when I fumbled the bottle and almost hit a lantern, but I was just quick enough that she instead started yelling at a passing teen.

Back above and hidden, I tried, emphasis on tried, to open the cap with my talons before giving up and just piercing a hole in the bottle's side with my beak. After finally getting rid of the leftover eye, and some blood on my talons that had begun to cake up a bit, I set my sights for my next meal.

The asian kids really weren’t kidding with the amount of food on display. In one street alone there had to be 15 different dishes that I’d butcher the name of if I tried to say them being sold and quite successfully at that. I thought I could even smell some of them, but I wasn’t sure if that was real or just my brain playing tricks on me.

So, really, the question was more what did I want to eat? Maybe some spring rolls? A bowl of noodles of some kind? Pork on rice? Steamed buns? I could definitely go for something with chicken in it. Maybe even – why was I gagging?

All at once, a wave of nausea just crashed into me, but mercifully left as quick as it came. What even caused this? It couldn’t be thinking about food, right? I wasn’t about to want to get the urge to vomit every time I thought about bacon, was I?

As I made more awful bird noises, I vowed to keep my big mouth (beak?) shut next time there was an opportunity to jinx myself.

So, it seemed that my powers came with a brand new view of what was good for eating and what was inedible. Maybe my reaction meant something else, but I didn’t want to risk actively going against it if it was that strong for just considering things.

I still had to eat however and trying to see if absorbing more blood from people could work as a substitute was best left as an absolute last resort.

Steeling myself, I thought of what else could serve as a meal. A sandwich? Nope. Cooked beef? Closer, but still no. Raw beef? Only a small feeling of discomfort. Raw poultry? After a full five seconds passed without my body signalling its discontent, I sighed, both in relief and in annoyance.

New objective: Finding raw bird somewhere. Which probably meant getting into the back of a store because trying to get some from a stand that was actively cooking it was just asking for trouble.

Unfortunately, due to it being winter and all, no one had their windows conveniently open for me to swoop in and out of. Thankfully, before hunger got me to say fuck it and make like a seagull with fries, I spotted an opportunity.

A delivery truck was just leaving what appeared to be a grocer’s back entrance and it seemed the owner hadn’t bothered to close the door yet as he made his way back inside with a large crate full of lettuce with a smaller sealed box with a pig logo stamped on it.

Hopping down from my current roof onto the railing of some stairs, I took a better peek at the inside of his store. He was currently unloading his fresh veggies into different crates with only a sliver of light filtering in from the outside. I did also spot what seemed to be the freezer room a bit further in, so that was good.

Before going any further however, I tried my best filter out the street’s noise and focus my full attention on trying to hear if someone else was also in the building. I already made that almost lethal mistake with those E88 goons and I wasn’t in the mood to do it again tonight.

After a full minute passed and all that reached my ears was the humming of some song and what might have been onions being shuffled around, I released the breath I was holding and glided down and into the back door. I remained vigilant, just in case.

My current plan was to slowly make my way closer and closer from between the shelves until I’d be close enough that I could enter the freezer right after him. It was still risky, what with the possibility of becoming an owl popsicle if I was locked in there and all, but hopefully the general darkness would hide me well enough and he’d not close the door right after coming in or out.

It struck me as I twisted around the potato rack that I was seeing far too well both in the dark and just in general considering I didn’t have my glasses. Probably for the best really because I didn’t have ears to hold a pair glasses' frame and putting on eye contacts would be absolute hell without opposable thumbs.

I was snapped out of my daydreams as I heard the owner curse in another language and get up. I stepped back and around some bags of flour into what I guessed was a blind spot for him, but it didn’t stop him from yelling “Get out of here, you filthy animal!”

Well, shit. Hearing that I got spotted, I retreated out of the building before the owner could hit me with whatever he had on hand. Gaining a bit of height, I landed atop a lamp post and scanned once more for a new direction to try my luck in.

Which was why I was rather confused when I still heard him yelling for some beast to get the hell out of his shop. Taking a peek to see if he was still after me, I saw that what he was actually chasing after was some delicious looking mouse.

I mentally shrugged before – wait wait wait. Hold up. What did I just think about that mouse? What aspect of a mouse, except for its lean and slightly juicy meat and its not too thick fur, could ever be appe – it happened again.

Of course. Of course I couldn’t even imagine normal human food without my insides making their discontent known but rodents were apparently a delicacy to my brain now. Was weird diets something that every cape with the ability to transform had to deal with or did the universe just hate specifically me that much?

The image of Lung having to eat fair maidens like some fairy tale dragon popped into my mind before I quickly dismissed it with a shudder, remembering what one of the ABB’s most prolific business was.

As the owner finally chased out the mouse out of his shop before closing the door with a bit too much force, the first twinges of hunger pains made themselves known.

That was rather bad considering that the odds of finding another place with the storage room open at this time of night were incredibly slim. Stupid mouth-watering rodent turning that attempt into a complete bust and then having the audacity to stand around and clean its scrumptio – GAH, would you kindly shut the fuck up brain!?

As I contemplated bashing my head into the nearest wall, I heard a cut-off squeak from down below. Looking at the sound’s source, I honestly didn’t know how to react at what greeted me.

In my last mental outburst, I must have let a feather fly as I waved my wings around because the mouse was now dead, pinned to the floor by the hard tip of my feather's shaft that had pierced through its skull.

After staring at my kill for a few more seconds, I absentmindedly recalled the projectile back to me. When the rather bloody feather reconnected with my plumage, the expected rush of energy didn’t come in the slightest nor did I feel an iota of my hunger be satisfied.

Looking at the feather itself showed it and its surroundings were completely clean, so I had definitely absorbed the blood it carried. Which seemed to imply that my vampiric abilities were either specific to humans or that it was just mice that didn’t count. Knowing my luck, probably the former.

As I was about to fly off and continue my search, a whisper in the back of my head made me still my wings.

Why not just...take the mouse? I was getting famished and chances were I wouldn’t get an easier meal than this for a little while at least. I didn’t even have to eat it now, or ever if I found something better, and it wouldn’t cost me much of anything to carry it around in my talons as I went on my merry way.

I really didn’t want to consider that option, but it made enough sense for my empty stomach to wear me down into shaking my head and floating down to the dead rodent. After all those cravings had to mean something and it wasn’t like I’d actually eat it, right?

It’ll just be a funny little anecdote to tell about that time I almost went and turned a mouse into my dinner.

Just as I was about to grasp its body in my right talon, I heard sprinting footsteps and yelling rapidly getting closer. I hurriedly soared away and, in the moment’s panic, grabbed the mouse by the head with my beak.

After getting enough height that I felt comfortable to level out my flight, I peered down and saw that the source of those sounds was mischievous kids running away from some pissed off grandma while carrying rabbit plushies and toys.

It was as I went to groan for getting spooked so easily that I realized where exactly I had put the rodent and that my tongue was actually touching its still warm flesh.

To my horror, the mouse tasted great. When I had envisioned chowing down on some raw chicken, it had felt like it would be as good as eating saltines with a far too watery broth on the side: It would curb your appetite, but it was bland and you’d get sick of it by the second day at the latest.

The mouse however? It was that pasta dish you found in the oven after coming back in late that was still warm enough for the cheese to be melty: Filling, hit the spot right on and the only problem is that you were left with only faint smears of tomato on your plate far too quick.

Before my brain could catch up and made me spit it out, instincts kicked in and made me swallow it up right there and then. My attempts at throwing it back up only rewarded me with a weird feeling in my throat and the mouse went down completely in barely five seconds.

For a small moment, no thoughts passed through my mind as I tried to come to grips with what I had just done.

The memories of mocking laughter from a redhead bitch and her cronies rearing their ugly heads woke me back up, but I felt far too defeated from actually devouring a mouse to care about it in the slightest.

I was still slightly peckish, but I was too exhausted right now to go looking further and I just wanted to sleep and forget about what just happened than do literally anything else.

I let my body glide on autopilot for where I’d rest while I did my best to empty my mind and see if it possible to induce short-term amnesia on myself if my will was strong enough.

As the morning sun started to make its presence known over the horizon, my talons made contact with the edges of a hole in some random place’s roof. I didn’t know where exactly I was in relation to the PRT headquarters, but that was a problem for tomorrow me. Evening me. Whatever.

With no signs of a current occupant, I jumped in and slowly spun around with my wings fully extended. After finding that I had to take a step or two before making contact with a wall and that I could easily fly in and out of my current abode, I released a breath that I didn’t know I was holding and settled in.

As I drifted off to sleep, the only wish I had was that my next day as an owl wouldn’t be worse than this one.

... oh godamnit me.