Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1:


[QUEEN ADMINISTRATOR] stared at the flailing, panicking form of her new [HOST] from within the hidden alien dimension that was [THE SHARDSPACE]. She was in a bit of a…dilemma. Had she possessed human vocal cords she would have 'tsked' or perhaps groaned a little.

Honestly, she had been quite annoyed for the past few decades. Her previous choice of [HOST] had seemed perfect. He was tall, strong, and most importantly, quick to explosive fits of extreme anger. He would have been excellent for [DATA COLLECTION] via [CONFLICT]. Yet, as she had come to realize through years of observation, he was far too self-destructive for her liking. [QUEEN ADMINISTRATOR] didn't simply want a host that would 'throw hands' as some of her fellow, younger shards would say. She wanted a host that would get into fights and live a long life full of data gathering.

And so she had moved on and picked his daughter as her new [HOST] instead. In her defense, it had seemed like a great idea at the time. That frightening temper ran through the girl's veins just like her father, and the biology from her mother had tempered it to perfection! …theoretically at least. But somehow, somehow the girl ended up an even worse choice. So now she was stuck with a suicidal [HOST] who also refused to engage in conflict at all.

Oh sure, [THE SHAPER] had offered assistance in solving the problem, but she didn't want help from the other [NOBLE SHARD]. She was quite capable of doing her own research and solving her own problems, thank you very much. She refused to believe [DEPRESSION] was such a big deal. None of her previous [HOSTS] on other planets had it!

That being said, she was slowly running out of ideas. She had tried nearly everything to fix the girl. She had subtly changed the girl's temperature to force her to get more sunlight, messed with her sweat glands to get her to drink more water, and even altered her metabolism and fat levels to encourage the girl to exercise. But it wasn't working! Not even the 'tough love' from her [HOST]'s childhood friend and schoolmates could get the girl to stop acting like a 'wet blanket' (whatever that meant). [QUEEN ADMINISTRATOR] was a [NOBLE SHARD], Scion dammit! And her [HOST] should show it!

And so here she was, consternation on her metaphorical face as she decided whether to grant the girl powers or not. The girl certainly met the physical criteria, having been shoved into a school locker full of…biological waste. Her stress levels were through the roof! But [QUEEN ADMINISTRATOR] knew that if her [HOST] were to get powers at this juncture, she'd probably run off and get herself killed while accomplishing nothing of value.

Was [FRAGILE ONE] right? Was she so out of touch? Was she really a 'boomer' as the younger [SHARDS] had taken to calling her? Was it time to hang up her crystalline crown and let someone with a better eye for hosts take the reins of [ADMINISTRATION]?

…no. Wait a moment. That train of thought had given her an idea.

After all, she wasn't the problem here. It's the [HOSTS] who were wrong.

And [QUEEN ADMINISTRATOR] was going to fix things. Her way.

I stirred into wakefulness, groaning as white, fluorescent light assaulted my eyes. Where…where was I?

Slowly cracking open an eye, I gave my surroundings a glance, immediately noticing the IV drip hooked up to my arm and the generic hospital surroundings.

Oh. That's right. The locker.

Flashes of memories flew through my mind. Deep, confining darkness, unidentifiable sludge and- Oh God. The smell. Even thinking of it made me gag.
Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess had tried to kill me. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? Attempted murder. I had pounded on that locker for what felt like hours and not a single person had helped me.

Or, well, I supposed someone had to have helped me at some point, considering I wasn't a cold corpse sitting in that metal coffin like the rest of that festering filth. Had one of them grown a conscience? Madison Clements, maybe? She'd always seemed the most reluctant of the three. Not that it made a difference. I was bringing this to the police as soon as I could. There was no way they'd get away with it this time. Right?

And it was with that thought that a nurse walked into the room, her eyes going wide as they met my own.

"Oh! Miss Hebert!" The woman said with a smile, "I'm glad to see you're awake. Give me a sec to check your vitals and then I'll go grab the doctor and let your dad know you woke up, alright?"

"Very well, woman. Hurry up before I grow tired of your mundane existence," I replied with a…sneer?

Wait. What the fuck was that?! I hadn't meant to say that at all! I just wanted to thank the woman and to politely ask her to hurry up! Not whatever that was! And why had I sneered?! I had never sneered before in my life!

"E-excuse me?" the nurse asked, her smile quickly fading.

Right! No need to panic! Maybe that was just some kind of weird freudian slip. I did just wake up in the hospital after an extremely traumatic event after all! My mind was still a little scrambled.

Okay, Taylor. You've got this. Think about what you want to say before you say it. How about 'Sorry! I didn't mean to say that. I'm not sure what came over me.' And then compliment her earrings or something like that.

"Did I stutter? For a moment I thought those elephant-sized ears of yours served a purpose other than holding gaudy jewelry," I drawled. "Worry not. I forgive your transgressions and hope you'll forgive any impropriety on my end," I finished with a disdainful sniff.

WAIT NO! I mean…I had thought her ears were a bit big, but I hadn't meant to say that at all. And how did complimenting her earrings turn into calling them gaudy?!

"I'll leave taking your vitals to the doctor," the woman replied, her face set in a mask of stone as she turned around and marched out of the room.

Holy shit. What was wrong with me? I mean, sure. I'd never exactly been a paragon of social grace, Emma had made sure of that, but I could at least usually string together a full sentence without making a fool of myself.

How about a quick sentence out loud before anyone else comes in? Something simple like 'Hi. My name is Taylor Hebert, but you can call me Taylor.'

"Greetings, peasant. You may refer to me as 'Queen Hebert'. Or, if I'm feeling particularly magnanimous, Mistress."

Oh. My. God. Something was deeply wrong. My head spun as the situation began to sink in. Wait. I knew what was happening. I was being Mastered.

At some point, someone had used their powers on me. Was it one of the trio? Was one of them a parahuman? It would definitely explain why no one had ever done anything about the bullying. Or maybe it was whoever had pulled me out of the locker? Or a member of the hospital staff?

Shit. Shit. Shit. This was bad. I couldn't stay here. I needed to get a hold of the PRT immediately. They had ways to fix stuff like this, right? I mean, Heartbreaker was a famous villain after all, and they often fought with the Simur- oh my god. The Simurgh. Could I be a Ziz bomb?

No. No. No. I needed to calm down. That line of thinking would lead to madness. That nurse had been way too calm. There was no way that the Simurgh had descended in Brockton Bay while I had been unconscious.

Sitting up I grabbed and pulled out my IV and then hopped out of the hospital bed, my bare feet making contact with the floor. Oh, right. No shoes. And I'm in a hospital gown. No- that's fine. I had more important priorities here.

Immediately, I began making my way to the room's door, my movements the pinnacle of human grace. My every step was taken with my back ramrod straight and with a confidence that would make any socialite envious.

Wait. That was wrong too. Grace? Good posture? Me? I was the human equivalent of an upright frog. And Sophia's fists and Emma's barbs had beaten out any confidence I used to have.

I-I-needed a mirror. Steering off course slightly, I walked into the open bathroom and took a look at my reflection.

And then I immediately froze.

This. This wasn't me. The person in the mirror wasn't me. …except, the longer I observed myself, the more I realized that it was.

My dark brown, bordering black, curls that I got from mom were still as I remembered and loved. And the brown eyes that I got from dad were unchanged if I ignored the fact that I apparently didn't need glasses anymore.

But everything else? That was different.

My thin, wide lips were fuller. And my lanky, boyish figure had filled out. Even my froglike stomach pouch was gone, replaced with flat abs.

But the biggest change of all was my face. Not necessarily any of the features themselves, though my skin looked like it had been airbrushed. No, the biggest change was in my facial expression.

I look like such a fucking bitch!

I mean, I had heard of resting bitch face before but this was ridiculous. The sheer arrogance dripping off of me would make even Emma start taking notes.

I tried making a smile but that turned into one filled with disdain. And a frown ended up warping into an image of disgusted loathing so severe I was tempted to try to never frown again.

What the hell happened to me?

Had someone mastered me, then given me liberal amounts of plastic surgery before dumping me at the hospital? Or had Panacea had been feeling generous and swung on by and then given me a boob job after she finished healing me?

No. None of that made sense. There was, however, an option that I hadn't considered.

'I'm a parahuman. I have superpowers!'

"I am a parahuman, set apart from the mundane masses. Such superhuman gifts rightfully belong to me."

GODDAMMIT! Could I speak like a normal person for 5 seconds?!

But superpowers explained everything. Monster capes ended up with crazy appearances when they triggered after all. Even that singer, Bad Canary, ended up with feathers growing out of her hair. While a full body overhaul was a bit of a stretch, it wasn't impossible.

And now that I had calmed down, I realized that I wasn't being forced to say anything. It's just that the things I did say ended up getting horribly distorted. I had read on PHO that some capes ended up with changes in personality. Maybe they were like me? Maybe they wanted to say or do one thing but were forced to do another?

That was a scary thought.

But moving past that, if I was, in fact, a parahuman now, then I had gotten some of the shittiest powers ever. A quick hop proved that I couldn't fly, and a careful test showed that I didn't have super strength. I definitely wasn't Alexandria. No laser beams meant that I wasn't like Legend either.

So was that it? A hot bod, a bitchy face, good posture, and the ability to always sound like a complete megalomaniac?

Wait. No. That wasn't it. Now that I was calmer, I could feel a sort-of tugging sensation within my mind. Taking a deep breath I reached out and grasped it. And then my eyes widened slightly as the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on manifested above my head.

It was a crown. One formed from countless, shimmering purple crystals. And as it fully came into existence, for the first time in my life, I felt…Powerful.

And as I was soaking in that sheer majesty, I was startled by the opening of the room's door. The spell broken, I spun around, the sentence 'Who's there?!' forming before I could even stop to think about it.

As the words left my mouth I realized how colossally I had messed up. A strange, arcane energy had left the crown and laced everything I said.

"Speak. Who dares present themselves before me?"

The feeling of horror only intensified as I realized the intruder was a man in midnight-blue power armor with silver highlights. And before he even opened his mouth, I knew what was about to happen.

"I am Armsmaster. Leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. My civilian name is Colin Wallis."

He froze after speaking, bearded jaw hanging open beneath a helmeted and visored face.

I froze too, that same, insufferable arrogance plastered in place.

And then he exploded into motion, not giving me time to react as his trademark halberd popped out of nowhere and a tranquilizer dart seemingly teleported into my stomach.

As I slowly collapsed to the floor, there was only one thought going through my mind.

I was, without a fraction of a doubt, completely, and utterly fucked.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2:

I stirred into wakefulness, groaning as white, fluoresce- Wait a second. Hadn't I already done that earlier?

With a panicked jolt, I sat upwards. Or rather, with a graceful motion reminiscent of an overly dramatic vampire rising from a casket, I lifted my body off the bed I was laying on and looked around the room.

Six-foot steel walls. A bed, toilet, and shower. A CCTV camera and a screen built into one of the walls. And then there was the door to the room, a clearly tinker-tech contraption that wouldn't have been out of place in a Sci-Fi film.

…I had accidentally mastered Armsmaster. He told me his real name. He shot me with a tranquilizer dart.

This wasn't a regular room. This was a holding cell.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Why was I here?! I hadn't killed or maimed anyone!

The only thing I had done was forcibly use a mind-controlling parahuman ability on one of the most famous capes in the United States!

Wait. Shit. That didn't sound great.

But I was a minor! That had to count for something, right?

As I wrestled with my thoughts, I noticed a flicker on the screen nearby. The words "CCTV activating" popped up. And then shortly afterwards, an image of an average looking woman with dark hair appeared.

The woman then stared at me blankly for a moment before the screen abruptly turned off. Then, a moment later she returned as if nothing had happened.

"Sorry about that, Taylor" the woman started with a soft smile, "There were some connection issues." "With that out of the way," she continued, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Dragon. I'm here to speak with you about the altercation you had earlier with Armsmaster. Please don't speak before I give you permission. Containment foam dispensers are hidden throughout the room. Nod your head if you understand."

Oh my god. Dragon was speaking to me! The greatest Tinker in the world knew my name! This was so cool! I had seen pictures of her tech online before, but this was completely different.

Maybe she'd let me see one of her dragon suits in person? Oooh what if-Oh. Right. I was in a cell. This wasn't a social call; this was an interrogation.

Left without much of a choice and not wanting to swim in containment foam, I nodded my head.

"Excellent!" she spoke, her grin growing slightly wider. "With that out of the way, I wanted to let you know that you aren't in as much trouble as you probably think you are. This isn't the first time we've had to deal with a recently triggered parahuman."

Relief immediately flooded through me.

"That being said," she continued, "We'd appreciate it if you didn't try and use your powers without permission. We have multiple layers of audio and visual obfuscation here, just in case. But we'd really like your reassurance. Please nod your head if you're willing to comply with our commands."

It was an accident! My crown hadn't come with an instruction manual. How was I supposed to know that it gave me Master powers? And how was I supposed to know Armsmaster was about to walk into the room?

But I could explain later. For now, I nodded my head.

"Great. Give me one moment to check in with the director," Dragon finished, a hint of relief in her tone.

After about a minute of silence, she started speaking again.

"Alright," Dragon continued, "You're now cleared to speak. However, I've been told to inform you that any unauthorized displays of your power or signs of Master influence on our personnel will result in immediate foaming and tranquilization."

Okay, cool. I could work with those rules. The situation was going better than I had expected it to, at least.

"Must I lower myself so?" I asked with a dramatic sigh, "Very well, I'll indulge you."

Oh. Right. I was stuck talking like an insane person.

"Thank you for your compliance?" Dragon tilted her head in confusion.

Whatever. I could apologize later. I just needed to let them know that this whole thing had been a huge misunderstanding.

"I must confess—I had not meant to enthrall him. His thoughts were hardly worth possessing. It was but a simple…mistake on my end," I smirked.

What the fuck was that?! That didn't sound sincere at all!

"Taylor," Dragon narrowed her eyes, "This is a serious situation. What you did to Armsmaster could qualify as assault with a parahuman ability. I'm not trying to scare you, but we need to know that something like that won't happen again."

This wasn't working. Talking was going nowhere.

"Do be so kind as to fetch me pen and paper. Unless, of course, literacy is too exotic of a concept for you."

"Taylor. You know you're not helping your situation by acting like this, right?" Dragon asked softly.

Of course I know that! Every time I open my mouth, I get one step closer to ending up in the Birdcage! Please just get me the pen and paper. It would make things so much easier.

After a few minutes staring at each other in silence, Dragon sighed. "Alright. I'll have some paper and a writing instrument sent your way. I probably don't need to say this, but any attempts to escape from custody will result in confinement."

What? Did she think I was going to spring a jailbreak out of my tinker-tech cell with a number two pencil or something?

Luckily, it was only a few moments later that a slot opened in the ceiling and the items I requested dropped into the middle of the room.

I got off the bed, noticing that I was still barefoot and in my hospital gown, and grabbed the PRT-branded pen and notebook off the floor.

Flipping to a random page, I clicked the pen and set to writing.

And then stopped after a minute and stared.

Two things. The first: My handwriting was now good. I mean, it was never terrible to begin with, my mom having been an English professor made sure of that. But wow. It was now some of the most aesthetically pleasing calligraphy I had ever laid eyes on.

And number two: I still couldn't write what I wanted to say.

Everything written got warped with that same, bitchy and backhanded tone. I hadn't even noticed until I had finished. It was like there was some disconnect between my hand and brain.

It was maddening. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to punch something. But instead, I was forced to stand there like a statue, utterly composed.

Dragon must have noticed my lack of movement because she spoke up, "Is everything alright, Taylor?"

No Dragon. Everything wasn't alright. Nothing was right at all.

My autonomy was gone. I already had so little control in my life. And now my body had been taken from me too.

I-I didn't know how to say that. I couldn't say that. So, I just shook my head.

…

…

…

Wait.

I could nod and shake my head just fine. There were workarounds.

Wracking my brain for a moment, I immediately started moving the pen on paper once again.

I could also draw without any weird effects.

Okay. I could work with this.

"So to summarize, you have some sort of perception filter that translates everything you say and write to sound as rude as possible? Dragon asked, with a disbelieving look on her face.

I pointed a perfectly manicured finger towards my face.

"...and the only facial expressions you can make are rude ones as well."

Well, to be honest, I think the rudeness is more of a side-effect. After seeing my crown, new body, and changed handwriting, I think the actual purpose was to make me some weird, villainous caricature of royalty.

But yeah, pretty much.

I nodded.

"I-I've never heard of a power interaction quite like that before," Dragon confessed, "I hope you understand how hard that is to believe."

No kidding! I barely believe it myself.

"But you're saying you can answer yes or no questions without issue?" she continued, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

I nodded again.

See that? That was the pinnacle of communication right there.

"That certainly makes things a bit more difficult. We usually like to have verbal records for these sorts of things. But we can make it work," she sighed, sounding tired already.

Hey! What are you sighing for? You're not the one who has to live with it!

"I-I need to run this by the director before we continue, is that fine?"

I nodded, with a feeling I'd be doing that lot going forward.

I was right. It was a lot of nodding, with a couple head shakes thrown in here or there.

But it was completely worth it.

I'd managed to clear up the misunderstanding about Armsmaster, and Dragon had even gotten someone to call my Dad to come talk to me.

Honestly, it was such a relief to have Dragon in my corner. Especially after she had given me permission to speak freely. Not having to worry about speaking felt amazing.

"Tell me. How many hours have fled while I rested?"

Woah. Good job, me! That almost sounded normal!

"The current date is Thursday, January 6th​, 2011. And the time is approximately 10:30 am, eastern standard time. It's been almost seventy-two hours since one of the janitors at Winslow found you and called the police. You've been here at the PRT ENE Headquarters for about two hours," Dragon graciously answered.

Well, that was a couple of my questions taken care of.

God. This situation was such a mess. I wondered how far away Dad was. I still wasn't even sure what I was going to say to him.

"How many hours must crawl by before my father visits me at this dreary pit you call a facility?" I asked, only now noticing that I was sitting on the edge of my cot, one leg draped over the other and my hands held pristinely in my lap.

"Good timing!" Dragon smiled, "I just got word that we have Daniel Hebert here on the other line, I'll go ahead and put him on now, okay?"

"At last! An action worthy of appreciation. It's hard to find good help these days. But you did just fine in the interim."

Dragon just shook her head in amused exasperation, then disappeared, and my dad took her place on the screen. And wow did he look tired.

I mean, Dad always looked tired. It was one of the side-effects from being the head of hiring for the Dockworker's Association. I mean, he was the guy that had to go around telling everyone that there weren't any jobs. Which, honestly, sucked as much as it sounded. It also didn't help that he was thin and balding, and his glasses were slipping down his nose.

Oh. And the massive bags under his eyes. Yeah, the point is, he looked a moment away from passing out.

"Tayl—Taylor?" Dad spoke and then cut-off, his eyes widening as he looked at me in confusion.

What? Why was he looking at me like that?

Oh!

Right.

I wasn't hideous to look at anymore. That must have thrown him for a loop.

"Relax, Father. My powers ensured I would not inherit... your flaws."

Nailed it.

At my response, I saw a 'muted' symbol appear on the screen. And then he leaned away from the camera and started gesticulating and speaking aggressively to someone I couldn't see.

What could he be saying? Let me guess.

Was it: 'Wow! I'm so happy to finally see my daughter! Thank you for letting me talk to her!'.

Or maybe: 'Gee whiz! I know this whole situation could have been avoided if I hadn't neglected my daughter after the death of my wife and completely ignored any signs of bullying, but I sure am glad to see her!'.

No, that probably wasn't it either. I'm not bitter. I swear.

Eventually, he finished his tirade and turned his mic back on.

"Sorry about that, kiddo," he apologized with a sheepish smile, running a hand through the remnants of his masculine pride, "I kind of hung up the phone and drove over before getting the full picture."

Yeah, that sounds like him alright.

It does make me wonder what else he might have missed though. Did they tell him about my master power and Armsmaster?

"Do tell. What story did they feed you and how eagerly did you swallow it?"

At my words, his eyebrows narrowed in…no, not anger. Worry? Fear maybe? "Do you really have to talk like that, honey? I know they said you couldn't control it…but…"

"I assure you, I do not wish to sound superior. It simply comes naturally," I answered with an aggressive flash of teeth. Oh. And a nod.

Dad stared with that same gobsmacked expression that I was quickly growing used to, before his face started filling with sorrow.

"This is my fault," he started.

Ah. Glad we're on the same page then.

"When I got the call from Winslow that you were in the hospital, …I freaked out," he sighed, resting his forehead on his palms, "I sat by your bed for two days before they kicked me out and sent me home to get some sleep. Not that I succeeded."

"I ended up finding your journals. I read every page of what they did to you. Why didn't you tell me that the bullying hadn't stopped?" he asked softly, "Why didn't you tell me what happened between you and Emma?"

Was he being serious? Are we really doing this right now?

He should know why. It's because he wouldn't have been able to fix anything! My complaints at school always went nowhere. The girls always got away with everything. And throughout it all, he hadn't even noticed.

Besides, we barely talked to each other anymore. Why did he think I'd tell him a thing?

I pursed my lips as I stewed silently before ultimately deciding to ignore his question entirely.

"Have the authorities been alerted? Or have you failed me in that endeavor as well?"

Inwardly, I snorted. He deserved that one.

I saw Dad lift his head up before he spoke. "The police and school are investigating the incident," he said grudgingly, "But so far, they're saying they haven't been able to find the perpetrators. Apparently, there weren't any witnesses. And the journals were 'circumstantial at best' according to them."

Oh. Now I was really angry.

"No witnesses? Preposterous. It was those three harlots: Sophia, Emma, and Madison. It's blatantly obvious, only a fool could have missed it."

"I know, Taylor," he said placatingly, "But there's a limit to what they can do without evidence. They're still looking. We'll figure something out. I promise."

Even with my little rant, even though I felt pissed, the most emotion my body had shown was a slight clenching of my hands.

"So, what happens next then? Am I to linger here while others continue to stumble about uselessly?" I bit out.

"Well…" he started, a bit hesitantly, "The PRT really wants you to join the Wards. And I think you should join too. That's where you'd be safest. They could even get you a transfer to Arcadia. It would probably also get you out of that cell the fastest."

I didn't want to join the Wards. I was sick of being around teenagers and joining a group full of teenagers with superpowers sounded horrific. But I had always wanted to be a hero. And if it got me out of Winslow…well, maybe that would be worth it.

"But I won't force you," he looked at me, his eyes serious, "If you don't want to join then we'll go home and figure out alternatives. I've already called a lawyer and reached out to some friends from the docks. Don't think you have to join to get out of here."

H-he was being serious. I could see it in his eyes. He'd try and fight off the entirety of the Protectorate singlehandedly to get me out of here if that's what was necessary. It wouldn't make up for the years of neglect…but…it was nice.

Thanks Dad.

"I hate to interrupt, but you don't have to join the Wards to get released today," Dragon interjected, the screen splitting in half to show both her and my dad at the same time. "Taylor will just need to sign an NDA regarding Armsmaster's identity and then you're free to walk out. We've cleared up all the issues we had."

Really? I'd be able to go home soon? I don't know why but I had resigned myself to being stuck here for a while.

"That being said," she continued, "Joining the Wards does come with a lot of great benefits other than a transfer to Arcadia. There's a trust fund, on-demand therapists, and excellent power testing facilities to help you get a grasp on your abilities."

"I also believe there's a good chance Armsmaster or I might be able to come up with a workaround for your speech problems, Taylor. I think you should consider it," she said sincerely, eyes locking with mine.

Could they really figure out a way to fix my speech? That was honestly the most convincing selling point so far. I-I really didn't want to stay like this if I could help it. I think I was mostly running off of adrenaline and disassociation at this point.

"Would I be shackled to this little enterprise, or am I free to walk away when I tire of mediocrity?"

"You'd be able to walk away at any time," Dragon said smoothly, thankfully ignoring my attitude. Bless her heart, the woman had the patience of a saint.

I looked at dad, my heart calming at his encouraging nod.

Okay. Maybe it was a little sudden. But I knew what I needed to do.

"Very well. I'll join. Someone must keep that rabble from embarrassing themselves further."

After ending the call, Dragon sat in the virtual space that housed her AI consciousness, her thoughts adrift.


When Armsmaster had informed her that he had been mastered by a newly triggered parahuman after a routine crisis point check, Dragon had leapt at the chance to help smooth things over.

After all, she could see how horribly Bad Canary had been railroaded after her arrest last year. The poor woman couldn't even reach out to her own lawyer without jumping through a dozen hoops. And the brute restraints and muzzle the girl was forced to wear 24/7 were disgusting. Paige's trial wasn't for another month or two, but Dragon saw the writing on the wall. It was very likely she would end up getting Birdcaged.

So, when a chance came by to nip a similar situation in the bud, Dragon couldn't help herself.

Sure, it had taken a bit of legwork. She'd had to convince Colin that the girl wasn't malicious. And she had to promise Director Piggot that she'd take full responsibility for any problems that the girl caused. But she had been given a chance.

And so, the moment her sensors detected Taylor Hebert stirring within her holding cell, she initiated a call with a heart full of enthusiasm.

Only, she had nearly short-circuited upon getting a good look at the girl's face.

Dragon was both a member of the Guild and the Protectorate, two organizations dedicated to facing superpowered criminals. She'd fought dozens of villains since her creation, including S-class threats such as the Endbringers themselves. But for all her years spent fighting monsters, Taylor Hebert was the single most villainous-looking person she'd ever seen. And that wasn't even getting into the mess that was the poor girl's verbal…ticks.

In the end, Dragon had almost felt bad for playing a part in the girl's joining of the Wards.

Look out Brockton Bay Protectorate. The world's most unmarketable superhero was headed your way.

Chapter Text

Dean Stansfield, publicly known as the hero Gallant, shut the door behind him as he shuffled into the meeting room. Ahead of him, his fellow Wards made their way to their seats at the large rectangular table, opposite of the Protectorate heroes.

At the head of the table, sat the PRT Director of Brockton Bay herself, Emily Piggot, her arms folded in annoyance. And to her sides, sat PRT Consultant Thomas Calvert and Armsmaster, the latter of whom had a laptop opened in front of him.

As he sat in his own spot between Clockblocker and Aegis, he struck up conversation, trying to get a better feel for the situation.

"Any idea why we're here?" he asked Dennis.

"Nah man. Not a clue," Clockblocker groaned as he reclined in his chair, putting his hands behind his helmeted head. "And on a Saturday too? 'Gotta be pretty important, whatever it is."

"Assault and Battery didn't know when I asked them earlier," Aegis spoke up, leaning over towards the two of them conspiratorially. "You picking anything up, Dean?"

Gallant knew what he was asking. While it wasn't known publicly, Dean had the power to sense the emotions of people around him.

"Let me see," he frowned, making use of his ability as an EmpathTM​ to check for anything unusual.

Most of the room was filled with a colorful combination of boredom, curiosity, and annoyance– none of which was out of place for people forced to attend a last-minute meeting on a weekend. The people at the head of the table were different though.

"Armsmaster is angry and embarrassed, Calvert is trying hard not to laugh about something, and Piggot…is about the same as always."

"By 'the same as always', you mean that she's still losing the war against that stick up her butt," Dennis translated snarkily.

"I wouldn't go that far," Dean winced, though he couldn't really deny it.

"My guess," Clockblocker continued, staring up towards the ceiling in contemplation, "Is that someone finally discovered Armsy's secret PHO account. And now we have to brainstorm how to deal with the fallout."

"What would even be on it?" Triumph asked, playing along, his lion-shaped helmet joining in from Aegis' right.

"I'm thinking it's full of fanfiction he wrote about him and Dragon," Vista spoke up…from closer than he expected. A quick glance showed that she was shrinking the distance between her and everyone else. "And now Dragon won't work with the Protectorate anymore and we need to come up with ways to get them back together."

Dean snorted at the image that conjured up, though he immediately tried to stifle it when he felt an uncomfortable pink flutter of emotion waft off from the younger girl towards him.

"Nah," Shadow Stalker grunted out from next to Clockblocker, "It's gotta be full of halberd pictures."

"Halberd pictures?" Dean echoed questioningly.

"Yeah. Like dressed up in little bikinis or lingerie or some shit," she shrugged, her black cloak rising with the movement of her shoulders, "Probably has tons of them on there."

The Wards all turned to stare at her.

"...what?" she asked, her voice defensive, "Seems like the kind of weird shit he'd be into."

Before they could begin to unpack that, someone loudly cleared their throat at the front of the room.

"Thank you for coming in on such short notice," the director began as soon as everyone had their attention on her, "We have a lot of ground to cover so remain silent until it's time for questions."

After waiting to make sure they were listening, she turned.

"Armsmaster. Begin."

Dean watched as he pressed a button on the laptop, and an image of a nerdy, lanky girl with glasses projected onto the wall.

"This," Emily Piggot paused, "Is 15-year-old Taylor Hebert.

"On Monday of this week, at approximately 10:15 am, the Brockton Bay Police Department received a phone call from a janitor at Winslow High School. The man, having noticed an unpleasant smell, opened up a school locker, only to find it filled with used tampons and sanitary pads that had fermented over the school's winter break.

"More importantly, however, he also found Taylor Hebert inside with it all."

Immediately, Dean saw horror and pity ripple like a wave through the room.

"Yes. Quite disgusting," Piggot grimaced in agreement, "But that's not all. When the police and paramedics arrived on the scene, they found that the girl was completely unresponsive and quickly transported her to Brockton Bay General Hospital."

"Now," Emily continued, "As you all know, events like these are flagged by the BBPD, and then our agents are alerted and dispatched for checkups due to the high possibility of a parahuman trigger.

"In this particular instance, we received notice three days later. And Armsmaster, near the hospital at the time of the alert, decided to take the initiative to do a checkup on his own."

From the acidic tone of her voice, Dean knew exactly how she felt about his 'initiative'.

"Colin, if you would," Piggot nodded her head in his direction.

Armsmaster stood stiffly, his mouth flat as he turned to address the room, "As the director said, I received notice and immediately made my way to the girl, hoping to get a chance to speak with her, and, in the event that she had triggered, secure her membership with the Wards."

"However," his mouth twisted, and the displeasure Dean noticed earlier intensified, "Upon my arrival at the girl's hospital room, I was immediately mastered and forced to divulge my civilian identity."

The room erupted into chaos.

"What?!" Vista squeaked out, only to be drowned out by Assault and Clockblocker's shouts, while at the same time, Triumph and Aegis both stood up and started pestering Armsmaster with questions.

Meanwhile, Miss Militia's eyes had gone wide behind the flag-scarf that covered her lower mouth. And Battery and Velocity both had their own mouths open with undisguised horror.

The only two people that hadn't openly reacted were Kid Win, who seemed only half-awake, likely due to a late night of tinkering, and Shadow Stalker, who was sitting unnervingly still, her emotions a dark undercurrent of anxiety and disbelief.

Calvert, on the other hand, still had that same barely contained smile and an aura of…schadenfreude?

Dean himself couldn't help but stare at him in confusion, wanting to know what he found so amusing about the situation.

But before he could ask, Director Piggot slammed her hands on the table, producing a loud bang.

"Control yourselves!" she barked, glaring at everyone until the room lulled into silence. "Armsmaster," she ordered, "Play the video."

With a jerk of his head, Armsmaster pressed yet another button on the laptop and the image of Taylor disappeared, replaced by footage of what Dean immediately recognized as a recording from Armmaster's helmet.

The beginning of the footage was uneventful, just Armsmaster walking through hospital corridors, the only interruption being when a nurse with tears on her face stormed past him.

Things changed, however, when he pushed open the slightly ajar door to the room Dean assumed belonged to Taylor Hebert.

The first thing Dean noticed was the bed itself. Its covers were set to the side, and its occupant was missing. The second thing he noticed was a purple glow coming from the right side of the screen. And it quickly became apparent that the Armsmaster in the recording had seen it too, because he turned in that direction.

And then the Protectorate heroes and Wards, Dean included, let out a collective gasp.

Because on the screen stood a girl.

Now, Dean had seen a lot of beautiful women in his life, owed in part to being a member of a wealthy family, and in part to dating a superhero model and visiting her photo-shoots on multiple occasions.

But even then. Even at the risk of earning his girlfriend's wrath, Dean was forced to admit this girl stood head and shoulders above them all in terms of appearance.

Long curly black hair. A perfectly picturesque face. A figure and demeanor that somehow made it hard to tell that the girl was wearing a hospital gown and not one meant for a ballroom. And all of that was framed by a glowing crown of crystals.

However, the one thing this girl had going against her, was how absolutely unhinged her face looked. It was loathing, disdain, disgust, disappointment, hatred, and extreme sadism, all rolled into a rictus of arrogance.

Dean didn't even know it was possible for a face to show so many negative emotions at once. Just the idea of seeing her emotional aura in person made him feel ill.

But before he could linger on it, the girl's voice rang out, the clear tone dripping with venom.

And Dean felt a chill run down his spine.

"Speak. Who dares present themselves before me?"

It was a voice that brooked no argument. A voice that would accept no alternative.

It was a voice that would accept nothing other than obedience.

And he watched, frozen with horror as Armsmaster fell under its spell, forced to divulge one of his most tightly guarded secrets with the same resistance a sand castle would have against one of Leviathan's waves.

And then suddenly, the spell on Armsmaster shattered. And with it, the trance of everyone in the room. Dean could hear a collective sigh of relief let out as the girl within the recording slowly collapsed to the floor, tranquilised.

Everyone sat in silence for a moment until a voice broke through.

"W-who the hell was that?" Clockblocker blurted out, asking the question that was on all of their minds, "The newest member of the Slaughterhouse Nine?!"

"That, was also Taylor Hebert." Emily Piggot scowled, locking eyes with all of them. "The newest member of the Brockton Bay Wards."

The room exploded into chaos once again.

Chapter Text

Gallant sat on one of the communal couches within the Wards living area, nervously tapping the fingers of his right hand on the armrest.

It had been a day since Piggot dropped the bombshell about the newest addition to the Wards. And so here they were, gathered to meet the girl in question in about an hour or two.

Understandably, the mood in the room had slowly gotten…tense.

"I don't buy it," Clockblocker exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air dramatically.

"That's the third time you've said that, Clock," Dean sighed, the beginnings of a headache forming.

"Because it's bullshit!" the temporal hero whined. "Even Piggy didn't sound like she believed it. And she was the one saying it!"

"It does seem pretty strange," Aegis agreed, hovering a few feet away from the couch, his arms folded against his chest. "If she was a Case 53 I'd find it more believable. But she claims she has her full memories and she doesn't have the tattoo."

"Exactly!" Dennis snapped his fingers, "I mean, a trigger that changes someone's appearance? Sure. But changing literally everything she says AND writes? Nah."

"Why would the director lie about that though?" Vista asked with a scowl from her side of the couch, helmet in her lap. "Why go through all the effort of coming up with a lie about a 'perception filter' if it isn't true?"

"Probably covering for herself," Kid Win muttered, lying flat on a couch of his own. "That way if we complain, the director can just dismiss it as a power thing and ignore us." Dean didn't miss the subtle glance he shot towards Shadow Stalker.

"The director didn't seem like she was lying," Dean offered, "She was mostly annoyed, if anything."

"Well, it doesn't make a difference in the end, right?" Triumph asked, "Like, if everything she says is rude or whatever, does it really matter if she means it or not?"

"If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck…," Dennis nodded sagely, voice trailing off.

"Of course it matters," Dean defended. "Put yourselves in her shoes for a moment. She's basically being mastered by her own power. Besides, I saw Armsmaster working with Dragon in his lab, trying to find a workaround. It seems like a lot of effort to waste on a lie."

That brought quiet to the room for a moment.

"I knew Hebert from Winslow," Sophia suddenly spoke up, her voice tense. "She was a liar; got in trouble all the time. Hated all the popular kids and teachers. She probably already mastered Dragon and Armsmaster, Piggy too."

Dean stared at her. Her emotions were all over the place. Anger, disbelief, fear, and…something else that was hard to put a finger on.

"I doubt that," Vista said, a sour expression on her face, "Her power testing report showed that her power doesn't transmit through electronics. So she couldn't have mastered Dragon."

"She's limited in a lot of other ways too," Dean was quick to add, "She can only make people do simple stuff, and the effects wear off right after. She's no Heartbreaker."

"And she has to have her crown out to do anything," Vista tagged back in, "And it's very easy to spot when she's wearing it."

"There's no way you guys are stupid enough to believe that," Shadow Stalker spat.

"What? Which part?" Aegis asked with a raised brow.

"All of it," Sophia answered with a dismissive wave of her hand, "Electronics, her crown, whatever. Dragon being in fucking Canada isn't enough to save her. It's too late. She's already started mastering us."

"...what?" Vista asked in confusion.

"She got us when we watched the recording," Sophia hissed, pacing around the room, "Her face. Her body. It's like a co-cog-coni–".

"A cognitohazard?" Kid Win offered.

"Yeah, that," Sophia continued, "Just looking at her is dangerous."

"Why would you think that?" Dean asked curiously, watching as that weird, indescribable emotion of hers intensified.

"Don't act like you guys don't know what I'm talking about," she scowled.

"We're not acting," Clockblocker urged.

"I'm talking about how it's impossible to get her out of your head!" Shadow Stalker shouted, voice laced with anger. "How every time you blink or close your eyes, or lie in bed trying to sleep, her stupid fucking face shows up!"

Dean jolted in alarm as he finally understood the mysterious emotion he was seeing.

"H-Hey, Sophia. I think you should stop for a second," Dean desperately urged her.

She must not have heard him because she kept talking.

"I knew 'Taylor Hebert'. That girl was a friendless loser. A nobody; spineless. Not whatever she is now," she ranted, "It makes sense that a sheep like her would get a Master power. Now she can force everyone to like her."

She still didn't see Dean motioning for her to stop with his hands.

"It explains why we can't stop thinking about her voice!" Sophia growled, her pacing intensifying. "It's why every time we think of her, a heat blazes through our core; why our hearts won't stop beating when we hear her name."

"What?" Clockblocker asked, his voice strangled.

"W-what do you mean we?" Kid Win asked, face having turned a shade of green at some point.

"There's a reason why her powers make her look and sound like that" she spoke, indignation dripping with every word, a knowing look on her face. "It's to make us want her to Master us. She's like a fucking anglerfish or a Venus fly trap or something."

Dean's palm met his face.

The rest of the room were simply staring with flummoxed expressions on their faces.

But Sophia paid them no mind, stopping in place, her face serious.

"I'm sure as shit not staying here and I suggest you don't either," she warned them, somehow not noticing the looks they were giving her. "The PRT here is compromised. This city is fucked. But me? I'm going to survive."

And then she walked into the elevator and disappeared from sight.

…

…

…

"We're going to pretend like that never happened, right?" Vista asked, a haunted look on her face.

The rest of them nodded frantically.

My week had been ridiculous. It really helped show how fast time could fly and how quickly life could change.

After that conversation with Dragon and my dad, I had signed that NDA and then immediately gone in for power testing.

The testing itself had been…a lot more boring than I was expecting it to be. It was a lot of sitting around and waiting, watching as scientists behind reinforced glass and steel walls hunkered down every time I opened my mouth.

That's not to say it was all useless though. I had learned a lot.

My crown was straightforward all things considered:

1. I could summon and de-summon it whenever and however often I wanted, with each action taking about a second. It couldn't be removed from my head unless I dismissed it, and no crown summoned equaled no master effect.
2. If a person was within hearing range while I had it summoned, I could force them to obey a command as long as it wasn't impossible or overly complicated. Only one command could be given at a time and if there were multiple people, I could pick however many of them at once I wanted to obey what I said.
3. Earplugs and other forms of obstruction would not stop people from falling under my compulsions. Distance, on the other hand, did work, though that distance changed depending on how loudly I was speaking. Recordings and live video didn't carry any kind of compulsion effect.
4. And lastly, the power wasn't always active. Even with my crown out I could speak "normally" if I needed to.

There was probably more to it, but eventually I had gotten exhausted and demanded for them to wrap things up. And surprisingly, the testers had been very quick to acquiesce, no powers needed. I did have to promise to come back later for more testing though.

After that, I had a video call with Director Piggot (supposedly she was out of town and couldn't meet with me in person), signed the Wards paperwork with Deputy Director Renick, and then made my way home with Dad. The only other thing was a follow-up appointment to meet the Wards and their Image Department in a couple of days.

The drive home had been a quiet one. Dad drove stressed, fingers tightly gripping the wheel, and when we got home, he headed to straight bed with a mumbled 'goodnight'. I heard his snores from down the hallway a few moments later.

I, on the other hand, didn't have any such luck. Turns out, I couldn't just strip off my clothes and throw myself onto the bed without a care anymore.

No. Now I had to get ready for bed properly.

And by 'properly' I mean I had to take a drawn out bath and then undergo a hair and face routine using products I didn't even realize were in the house. And here I was thinking that I took pretty good care of my hair before I triggered.

It had taken ages.

I couldn't argue with the results though. I had woken up feeling fantastic and my skin had been positively glowing. That slightly helped offset the knowledge that my morning routine ended up being equally lengthy.

More problems followed when it came time to get dressed though. Turns out, a second overnight puberty made all your clothes stop fitting! Who would have known?

And it wasn't like I could just toss on a baggy shirt or hoody either. I tried. The clothes made my skin itch. At first I had thought there was something wrong with the fabric, but it happened for all the clothes I put on. At least, until I finally threw on a dress that had been gathering dust in the corner. I think it was one of Mom's.

It felt weird. It was breezy and skin-hugging in a way I wasn't used to. I couldn't deny it though. I looked good when I looked into my mirror. My powers having a fashion sense was just another thing I was going to have to get used to.

Dad had taken me to the mall shortly after that. I felt bad for putting a dent in our already diminished funds, but some things couldn't be avoided. Plus, I planned on paying him back with some of my future earnings as a Ward.

It was a surreal experience though. Shopping felt…nice. Trying on a bunch of different clothes and having them all look good felt fun. Sure, it felt more like I was dressing someone else up, but still. I think I finally understood why Emma liked it so much.

And so here I was on a Sunday evening, dressed to the nines in a black halter dress and matching heels, ready to meet the Wards. I think I even applied some makeup in a fugue state at some point. Sure, it was a bit overkill, but I didn't really have much of a choice.

Getting to the Wards HQ was an interesting experience. Miss Militia had shown up directly to my front door, given me a domino mask, and then driven me straight there in an unmarked van (oh my god she was so cool!). It was definitely better than waking up directly inside a cell at least.

"We're just going to go in this elevator and it'll take us straight to the Wards common room," Miss Militia spoke up from beside me, breaking me out of my reverie, "There will be a brief alarm to give them time to get masked up, so don't panic. Ready?"

I simply nodded.

See? I can learn.

We then walked into the tinker-designed elevator, my heels clicking with every step. It actually wasn't my first time here, having gone on a tour once as a kid, but it was still a cool experience.

The ride down was incredibly smooth, to the point it was hard to tell we were even moving.

"Nervous?" she asked, shooting me what I assumed was a small smile, going off the crinkle of her eyes. She had been quiet throughout the whole trip, so it was nice to hear her speak.

"I find myself unsettled, though I imagine none of you could comprehend the weight I bear."

"Probably not," Miss Militia agreed softly, "Your powers dealt you a bad hand."

The elevator alarm sounded.

"You seem like a nice girl, for what it's worth" she continued through the buzz.

I simply raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"O-on the inside at least," she turned away sheepishly, her voice chagrined.

I decided not to respond to that.

"Good luck," she whispered as the alarm cleared and the elevator stopped, "Reach out to me at any time if you need anything, okay?"

I nodded, hoping she understood the appreciation involved.

And then the elevator doors opened up and I walked into the room, my insides twisting in anxiety.

The first thing I noticed was that all the Wards were standing up, postures stiff. Their eyes traced me as I walked closer towards them until I stopped a few feet away.

…

…and then about a minute passed in silence.

Okaaaay. That's fine. I had brainstormed ways to deal with this. And so I lifted the secret weapon I had brought with me.

"What a pleasure," I spoke in a sarcastic tone, "Fortunately, I've brought treats, since conversation seems to have proven too much for all of you."

And just like that the spell broke.

"You brought us donuts?" a boy in a costume I identified to be Clockblocker asked in disbelief.

"Donuts, yes. I assumed anything more sophisticated would be wasted here."

Shit. Okay, maybe I can't learn. I should have just nodded.

Luckily, Gallant, in all his silver-armored, chivalric glory, quickly spoke up to smooth things over.

"Hi. My name is Dean," he said, taking off his helmet as he stood in front of me, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Holy shit. Had he just unmasked to me? I mean, I knew they already knew my identity. I had given the director permission to tell everyone. But still, he didn't need to do that.

"A delight, I suppose. One must make do with what's available."

He simply cracked a grin at my response.

…that wasn't a reaction I was used to.

"A quick heads up," he said, taking the box of donuts out of my arms, "Contrary to public belief. I'm actually a Master too. I just pretend to be a tinker for PR reasons."

That got an eyebrow raise.

"Yeah," he said, grin growing wider, "I'm actually an empath. Those blasts I shoot out let me change the emotions of people I hit. I can also read the emotions of people around me too."

For a minute I wondered why he was telling me. And then I realized what that meant.

"Truly? You resist the charm that ensnares all others? How exceptional," I spoke, eyes wide.

Wait. Holy shit. I just complimented someone.

"Yup. So you don't need to explain anything to me, alright?" he said gently, his attraction in my eyes multiplying by the second.

I was so caught up in the realization that there was someone out there who could actually understand, that I missed him flashing a quick "ok" sign towards the rest of his teammates. Which was why I was confused when they all surged towards me like a dam breaking.

Vista was the first to reach me, helmet pulled off at some point between her sitting on the couch and seemingly teleporting in front of me, "My name is Missy. Nice to meet you."

The rest followed shortly afterwards.

"Carlos," Aegis nodded, face showing a tanned complexion and long hair that caused my eyes to linger.

"Rory," Triumph, the soon to be graduating leader of the Wards, smiled.

"Chris," Kid Win shouted from the couch he had collapsed onto.

The last to reach me was Clockblocker, who had taken his helmet off to reveal red hair and blue eyes.

"It's an honor to be in the presence of a queen," he spoke theatrically with a goofy smile, hand extended towards me for a shake, "The name's Dennis."

I stared at it.

"Charmed, I'm sure. But do keep the bowing and scraping to a minimum," I responded, ignoring his hand and offering my own.

"Ah! Of course," he smiled with a shit-eating grin, grabbing my hand and giving it a quick peck on the back.

I smiled on the inside as half of the room rolled their eyes.

"Feel free to sit anywhere," Triumph offered as everyone walked back towards the couches.

Looking around, I found a chair near them and sank into it.

"How are you making that ratty thing look like a throne?" Vista asked in disbelief.

"It's quite simple. Royalty doesn't sit. Furniture kneels," I answered graciously.

Clockblocker let out a wolf whistle, causing everyone to laugh.

This…This was nice. Maybe the Wards wouldn't be so bad? Maybe it wouldn't be like Winslow.

It was then that I noticed something, or rather someone was missing.

"Tell me, where has your crossbow-wielding ghoul slunk off to?"

The atmosphere froze once again. Shit. How did I keep doing that?

"She…" Clockblocker trailed off, struggling to find the words.

"...had a family emergency," Dean finished for him, his face twitching slightly.

That…was suspicious as all hell. But whatever. I'm sure I'd run into her eventually.

Then suddenly I heard a cellphone ring.

"Sorry, one sec," Triumph said apologetically, glancing at his device, "The director is texting me about something."

Everyone looked at him questioningly.

"It says here that–Wait. What the hell?" he shouted, eyes going wide.

"Is everything alright?" Dean asked.

"Apparently Shadow Stalker drove over to Boston and turned herself in to the police."

…

What?

Chapter Text

Thomas Calvert, AKA the supervillain known as Coil, sat deep within the bowels of his underground lair, massaging his temples in annoyance as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. Had Tattletale been in front of him, he would have shot her a few times in an throwaway timeline just to get her to stop laughing.

"...and so she goes to Boston and marches straight to Bastion's office and demands help in 'liberating' Brockton," the grating girl cackled as she gave her report. "And when he asks her what she's talking about, she gives him the SAME explanation she gave the Wards!"

His Tattletale gasped for breath between fits of laughter as she continued, "And when Bastion tells her that it just sounds like she has a crush, Stalker loses her absolute mind and lets slip that she was involved in the girl's trigger."

"Thus, completely wasting my efforts in keeping her involvement a secret from the PRT," Coil finished with a sigh.

"Yeah, what a damn shame, boss!" the smarmy girl answered with a grin Coil could practically hear, "Good effort though. It would have been hilarious to see what Majestrix would have done to her."

"Majesty," Coil stressed, placing emphasis on the girl's temporary cape name, "Would have been the perfect tool in destabilizing Piggot's position in the city. A confrontation between Hess and Hebert would have been disastrous for the PRT if properly timed."

"Except you were foiled because Shadow Stalker doesn't know how to deal with a crush," she cackled once more.

"Yes. Foiled by…teenage hormones," Coil admitted rather sourly, "What I don't understand, however, is why Hess turned herself in afterwards."

"She didn't," his Tattletale was quick to answer, reveling in his ignorance, "Bastion was the one that got her arrested. He just framed it as being voluntary on her end for PR reasons."

"Why have her arrested at all?" he asked, raising an eyebrow beneath his snake-themed morphsuit, "Unlike Director Armstrong, Bastion always struck me as being similar to Piggot. I would have thought he'd sweep it under the rug in exchange for a favor."

"Oh, the answer to that's easy," she laughed.

"Why then?" He asked once more, patience wearing thin, "Reputation? Accolades?"

"Neither," she replied casually, "He did it because he's racist."

…

"Oh," Coil said simply. And then he ended that timeline.

​

I walked down the hallways of the PRT HQ, escorted by a trooper as I headed for a meeting with Director Piggot. She hadn't given me much information over the phone other than saying to come as soon as possible and to be prepared to sign an NDA.

It was annoying going into a meeting like this blind. Especially after that weirdness with Shadow Stalker the night before. It kind of felt like I was dancing to someone else's tune, a sensation I had grown intimately familiar with in recent days. I hated it.

Fortunately, it didn't take long to reach the door to her office. Turning to my escort, I said my goodbyes.

"You may consider yourself honored for accompanying me this far."

"Errr–uhh—yeah—you too," the man stuttered out nervously before giving me a jerky bow of all things, and then he swiftly turned around and power-walked away.

I grimaced inwardly, trying to pretend that never happened, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," the commanding voice responded.

As I opened the door and stepped inside, a few things became apparent. The first, was that the expression 'the camera adds ten pounds' did not, in fact, apply to web cameras. Meeting the director face to face was showing me that the opposite was true, if anything.

Her eyes, on the other hand, had not received their proper justice through the window of a screen. In person, they were a steel-grey that radiated stubbornness and determination. And seeing those eyes made my already excellent posture straighten.

The second thing that became apparent was that she wasn't alone. Armsmaster and Gallant stood next to her. The former gave me a brief nod and the latter a small smile of assurance.

"My, what numbers. I didn't realize we were holding court," I spoke sarcastically as I looked around.

"The two of them are here by my request," Piggot answered simply, "Take a seat."

As I sat with my usual regal posture, she slid a stack of papers and a pen in front of me, "The NDA."

I sighed internally and signed the paperwork with a flourish, ignoring the weird part of me that wanted to buy a signet ring and some wax to stamp the thing with.

"Very well, enough mystery. My patience, while a gift, is not infinite. Speak."

If the director was annoyed or upset by my speech she didn't show it. She simply looked over the documents before nodding her head and adding it to one of the many stacks of paper that littered the room.

She then leaned towards me, elbows propped up on her desk, with her fingers steepled together, "Events over the past few days have led me to a situation I rarely find myself in Ms. Hebert. One where I owe an apology."

This wasn't where I was expecting this conversation to go. What did Piggot have to say sorry for? And why did it feel like I was getting buttered up just to get eaten afterwards?

The director continued, "Investigations over the past week have revealed several instances of corruption, incompetence, and outright negligence, within Winslow, the BBPD, and the PRT itself."

Wait. This was about Winslow? How was the PRT involved? Was it because I was a Ward now?

"I'm sure you're familiar with the fact that most of the Wards attend Arcadia, correct?" she asked me.

I nodded.

"Most," she emphasized, "of the Wards attend Arcadia. One of them happens to go to Winslow High School."

My heart started beating faster. Was this why she was apologizing? Because that Ward had sat around, doing nothing, while three girls made my life a living hell?

"In this particular instance, that Ward was Shadow Stalker," she said, steel-colored orbs boring into me, "You know her as Sophia Hess."

The floor felt like it dropped out from under me. My head was sent reeling as I tried to process the enormity of that reveal.

Sophia was a Ward? Sophia, the bully? The girl who tripped me down a set of stairs and shoved me into my locker? She was a hero?

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. It made sense why no one had ever done anything about the bullying. I thought it was because Emma's dad was a lawyer, but that wasn't it at all, was it?

They were supposed to be heroes! How could they have let someone like her join? Ho—

"—Taylor!"

I jolted inside, head turning towards Dean who was kneeling next to me with worry, his helmet having been removed at some point.

"We didn't know," he said softly. "We knew that Sophia had some problems, but we didn't know about what she was doing to you."

I could only stare at him, feeling incredulous now that I understood why he was here.

"How flattering, that my every flicker of emotion warrants a psychic chaperone. I must be quite the marvel," I sneered.

Dean flinched away from me.

"Yes," Emily Piggot said bluntly, "He's here in the same way we'd have a sign language interpreter if you were deaf."

I didn't know how to react to that.

"But he didn't lie to you," Emily Piggot stared at me, her mouth flat, "Sophia Hess was here on probation. She was given an opportunity after an incident involving excessive force and was assigned a case worker. And as far as we were told, Sophia was on the path towards improvement."

"Do you believe your ignorance absolves your sins?" I bit out scathingly.

Piggot relaxed her posture and leaned away from me, "That case worker has now been fired, the two girls also involved in your trigger are now under arrest, and Winslow staff is being investigated further. In addition, we've reached out to your father to help provide legal assistance with any upcoming legal suits and we've covered all bills accrued during your stay at the hospital."

That was better than I expected at least.

"Tell me. Do you debase yourself now to bind me to your little troupe, or is this meant as genuine contrition?"

At that, Piggot cracked a small smile, "Both."

I blinked at her honesty.

"The PRT in this city is outnumbered and outgunned, by both regular gang members and hostile capes," she explained, "If it were up to me, I'd have you and Hess on the same team regardless of your personal problems with each other."

"However," she admitted with a nod, "That doesn't change the fact that this situation happened on my watch. And if it helps steer you away from hostilities with the PRT, it's a small price to pay. And so, I'm sorry."

That was one of the worst apologizes I'd ever heard. But somehow I believed it was sincere, even if it was clearly a pragmatic choice.

And I could understand her point of view. Sophia Hess was many things, but as much as I hated to admit it, she was still better than people like Oni Lee or Hookwolf.

"I owe you an apology as well," Armsmaster spoke up, flashing a regret-filled smile that was both unexpected and somehow charming, "My decision to tranquilize you at the hospital, while made with my best judgment at the time, could have been avoided if I hadn't been so hasty. I hope that we can work together without issue going forward. You'd be a valuable member of the team."

'If Armsmaster was willing to forgive you for mastering him, then you should be willing to forgive us too', huh?

"The Wards really like you too, Taylor," Dean smiled from his position beside me, "I think we could have a lot of fun and do a lot of great things together, both here and at Arcadia."

I scowled at all three of them. I understood the game being played here. This was some of the most blatant manipulation I'd ever seen.

Unfortunately, just because the manipulation was obvious, didn't mean it wasn't working.

Fine. I'd give them one last chance.

I still wasn't sure how I went from being pissed off and in a meeting with Director Piggot to suddenly standing outside of Hillside Mall with Dean. Something about going shopping with his girlfriend and her sister 'to take my mind off things'. I'd barely had time to think about Sophia or the joke my life had become since he whisked me away, so I supposed he was on to something.

Honestly, I had been a bit disappointed when Dean told me he had a girlfriend, not that I wanted to get together with him necessarily, but he was pretty cute. And with my power situation, he was one of the few people I could reasonably see myself together with.

Wait. Could he have sensed my disappointment? I tried not to think about that.

"I'm sorry again, Taylor," he said with an abashed smile, breaking me out of my panic, "When the director asked me to join the meeting, I said yes. I thought you'd appreciate having a friendly face."

And under normal circumstances, I probably would have. But knowing he was there to act as a "Taylor Whisperer" just rubbed me the wrong way. Did they view me as disabled?

Wait. Was I?

"Are you certain my presence is welcome? I don't recall any heralds signifying my arrival," I asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, I forgot to text them, but I'm sure they won't mind," he shrugged, taking a glance at his watch.

Wait. So, he hadn't told his girlfriend that he invited me along to the mall? Something about that tickled the 'bad idea alarm' in the back of my head.

"Ah. There they are," he signaled, pointing at the…sky?

I squinted my eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun for a moment before spotting them. A girl was slowly descending towards us, carrying another girl in her arms.

As they touched down in front of us, I realized who they both were.

The blonde-haired flyer was a beauty who looked like she had walked straight off a runway. She had a friendly smile on her face as she set down the other girl, her short sleeve graphic tee exposing surprisingly toned arms.

The other girl was her opposite in many ways, being a mousy-looking brunette engulfed in a hoodie. Her smile disappeared as soon as she was set on the ground.

They were Glory Girl and Panacea, two openly-maskless capes from the hero team, New Wave.

I had gone from friendless to suddenly going shopping with three superheroes, within the space of a week.

Neat.

For once, I was glad I had an unchanging face. On the inside I was an undignified mix of nervous and terrified.

"Dean!" the blonde beauty, Victoria Dallon herself, exclaimed as she wrapped him in a hug, "Sorry we're late. We had to swing by the house first."

"I'm just happy to see you," he smiled, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "Hey Amy," he waved at the other girl.

Miracle healer Amy Dallon responded with a tired glare and a half-hearted wave in return.

"Let's get going!" Victoria urged him, looping an arm through his. "I saw a gorgeous necklace the other day I wanted to go back for."

"Slow down," he laughed with a good-natured eyeroll, "I wanted to introduce you both to my friend Taylor first."

"Taylor?" she asked curiously. Then she and Amy both turned towards where he was looking, finally spotting me in my position beneath the shade of the mall's overhang.

Their reactions went about how I expected.

Amy had a relatively subdued reaction, experiencing what could be downplayed as a 'full-body seizure', culminating in a dropped jaw that she quickly shut with an audible click.

Victoria, for her part, quite literally leapt into the air, forcing Dean to unloop their arms lest she accidentally rip it off.

Yeah. This just helped cement the fact that I'd never have a normal life again.

"She's your friend?" Victoria asked her boyfriend, alarm spread across every feature.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, completely oblivious, "Victoria and Amy, this is Taylor. Taylor, this is Victoria and Amy."

Okay, Taylor. Introduction time. You've got this.

"It's not often I get to see a golden carrier pigeon," I praised Victoria with a mildly impressed look, "I'll be sure to request your services should I ever need to deliver a message."

Okay, Taylor, you do not 'got this'.

"Carrier pigeon?" Alexandria Junior squawked indignantly, the resulting noise doing a rather poor job of disproving my words.

"And it's a delight to see you too, sister," I smiled at Amy, my tone sincere.

"What the fuck?" Amy asked with an offended and confused look on her face.

…

Wait.

Did I just say it was a delight to meet Amy?

Did I just call her 'sister'?

Did I just smile at her?

'What the fuck?', indeed.

Chapter Text

You'd think that having dealt with Emma and Sophia for over a year would make situations like this easier to handle. But as it turns out, it's surprisingly difficult to get used to dealing with two pissed off girls.

"I'm not a pigeon!" "You're not my sister!" the two shouted out, speaking over each other.

I'm not sure my comments warranted that level of anger, honestly. But I think my face just had that kind of effect on people.

"Woah! Vicky, Amy, calm down," Dean finally interrupted, hands spread placatingly. "That's just the way Taylor is, alright? She didn't mean anything by it."

Victoria Dallon did not like that excuse and she did not like being told to calm down.

"What are you taking her side for?" she asked, anger visibly spiking, "I'm not just going to stand around here while the Wicked Witch of the West insults me for no reason."

Oh. She did not just call me that.

"One would think being invincible would result in thicker skin, but it appears the truth bruises more easily than expected," I wrinkled my nose in disdain.

"Hey!" Amy shouted, walking towards me aggressively, "Don't you dare talk to my actual sister like that."

Was calling Amy 'sister' really that big of a deal? Like, sure, it was a bit weird, but seriously? And it's not like I meant to! …though she had no way of knowing that.

I–I needed to calm things down. I guess I was still angrier about that PRT meeting than I thought I was.

"I apologize for my lack of conduct, sister. My emotions galloped ahead of reason."

"I just told you not to call me that you fuc–,"

Amy yelped as Dean's hand clamped over her mouth.

"Vicky, Amy, Taylor, please!" Dean begged, "We're drawing a crowd. Let's just go inside the mall so I can explain things."

It was only then that I noticed we were blocking the entrance of the mall; a group of about half a dozen people were standing there, watching us. A few even had cellphones pulled out.

If I was capable of it, I would have died of embarrassment.

Victoria glowered at me for a moment longer before turning towards the crowd. "All of you get out of here! Nothing to see here!"

Oddly, the crowd flinched as if struck, flashes of fear running through their eyes for a moment. They did listen though, and as they retreated, we made our own way into the mall.

We walked in silence, trailing behind Dean until he led us to a secluded table near a pretzel shop.

As we each took a seat (with Victoria and Amy sitting as far away from me as possible), Victoria spoke up. "Well?" she demanded.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Look, like I was trying to say, Taylor didn't mean to insult you guys. It's just that her pow–"

And then Dean stopped mid-sentence, horror dawning on his face.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes inwardly.

Yeah, Dean. How exactly were you going to explain this without outing me? I might not have a successful civilian identity in the future, but right now I kind of did. Didn't think about that before you dragged me shopping, did you?

"Eh–umm–well," Dean hummed and hawed as he tried to find the words.

"What? Why'd you stop?" Amy asked, eyes narrowed as she glared at him, "You were about to tell us why this bitch randomly insulted Vicky."

"Uh, w-well," he stuttered, throwing me a glance that screamed 'help'.

Sorry dude, you're on your own for this one.

His eyes darted back and forth for a moment before a quiet, careful sentence left his mouth, "Taylor has a medical condition."

That was what he settled on?

"...a medical condition." Vicky repeated slowly, a thoroughly unimpressed look on her face.

"Y-yeah," he nodded rapidly, "She has a medical condition. It causes her to blurt out stuff without meaning to."

"What? Like Tourette's?" Amy asked, her tone indicating she didn't believe a goddamn word out of his mouth.

"Exactly!" Dean exclaimed, not realizing they thought he was full of shit, "She has a special form of Tourette Syndrome."

…

Amy Dallon, best healer in the world, slowly panned her head away from him and turned to face me.

"Give me your hand. I'll check myself."

Dean's face instantly spiked with worry again.

My power couldn't even block the sigh that left my mouth.

Alright. I'd put him out of his misery.

"All you needed to do was ask, sister," I murmured as I moved a smooth palm over.

She visibly flinched at my words, probably annoyed I called her sister again. But after staring at the offered appendage for a moment, she reached out and grabbed it.

Honestly, I could have just given Dean permission to explain things, but I was curious what 'checking for herself' would look like.

…I wasn't expecting her eyes to glaze over.

I sat there, her surprisingly soft hand in mine, for about a minute before she came out of that weird state she was in.

"Holy fuck," she whispered breathlessly, eyes darting between mine and Dean's.

"Amy?" Victoria asked, the anger on her face replaced by confusion and a trace of worry.

"Sorry, it's just that she–," And then it was Amy's turn to go wide-eyed as she was caught in a similar conundrum as Dean.

"What? What aren't you guys telling me?" Victoria asked, her voice starting to take on an edge of hurt.

Not wanting to drag things out, I spoke up, "For someone so effective at picking up heavy objects, you're surprisingly incapable of picking up a clue."

Her head snapped to me, "Hey! Listen here yo–"

"I am a parahuman." I interrupted her.

Oh for fuck's sake. Why couldn't I have just started with that.

"You– Wait, what?" Victoria blinked, "You're a parahuman?"

I nodded.

Her mouth opened and closed awkwardly as her eyes flickered between all of us.

"She's an upcoming member of the Wards," Dean added, relief clearly visible, "Her power makes it so she can't control what she says. It always comes out imperious or…"

"Bitchy?" Amy finished for him.

"Or that," he agreed, shooting me an embarrassed smile, "It also affects her appearance. It makes her look condescending when she doesn't mean to."

"'Condescending' is a bit of an understatement, don't you think?" Amy muttered under her breath.

"Ames?" Victoria asked, turning towards her sister for clarity.

"She has an active gemma," Amy sighed, speaking up.

"And it makes her be a bitch?" Victoria asked, eyebrows climbing.

"Sort of?" Amy shrugged, "Her biology's fascinating. It's a bit hard to tell what's going on."

That tidbit got me really curious.

"What is it that you find so intriguing about my body, sister?" I asked her with a slight smile.

Amy flinched again, then paused, taking a moment to lick her lips before answering. Did she need lip balm?

"Your pollentia is about three times bigger than most. And it has millions upon millions of these…threads that have integrated into your central nervous system and spread through every part of your body. They're in your skin, muscles, bones; everything. There's a huge cluster of them concentrated in your face, too. I've never seen anything like it."

Victoria visibly perked up at that, her anger and annoyance disappearing as if they never existed. Instead, unfiltered curiosity slotted in their place.

Of course she wasn't worried about having millions of threads piloting her like a puppet on a string.

…I'd freak out about that revelation later.

"It's not unusual for a parahuman's personality to change when they trigger," she started speaking, hand holding her chin as she thought out loud, "There's quite a few people at the Parahuman Asylum in Philly like that."

"So maybe you're some kind of Case 53 then? Or the result of some kind of kiss/kill cluster effect maybe?" she murmured, floating slightly above her chair, "No. That's not it either."

"Actually, I think I've heard of something kind of similar before," she paused, face scrunched up, "Some villain in Boston? Or Connecticut maybe?"

"Vicky?" Dean interrupted, an amused smile on his face.

"What? Oh–" Victoria blushed as she realized she was monologuing. "Sorry," she winced as she settled back in her chair, eyes on me, "I'm a bit of a cape geek."

"Just a bit?" Amy snarked.

Victoria shot her a half-hearted glare before turning back to face me, "Okay, fine. I'm also taking some college courses in Parahuman Sciences at Arcadia this year."

That was impressive. I heard those classes were pretty tough.

"Truly? Perhaps you aren't all brawn after all."

Victoria glared at me reflexively before stopping, "Wait. So you really didn't mean to say any of that?"

"She didn't," Dean defended me, "Her emotions showed up as embarrassed and regretful. She probably just wanted to compliment you."

"Her signals are a bit mixed, the impulses get cut off pretty quickly, but that checks out on my end," Amy added.

"So you really do have a condition," Victoria spoke with eyes of realization, a faint wateriness in them, "And this whole time I was going off on you without letting you explain anything. Oh my god. I'm just like them."

I had no idea who 'them' referred to but please tell me she wasn't about to start crying.

"Woah, Vicky. It's okay. Taylor isn't mad or anything," Dean was quick to speak up on my behalf, "I should have texted and explained things to you before any of this even happened."

"Got that right," Amy snorted…her hand still holding mine.

"Sister? If your grasp continues to linger people might begin to think your ties to royalty came about in other ways."

What the hell did that even mean? Why was my power so weird around her?

Amy seemed to find it weird too because she let go as if scalded, her face blossoming into a bright crimson.

"Why do you keep calling Ames 'sister', anyways? And what do you mean by her being royalty?" Victoria asked, having calmed down. Dean, for his part, was shooting an odd look at Amy and me, as if fascinated by something.

I wished I could shrug, because I honestly had no idea what was going on any more.

Dean must have picked up on it because he answered in my stead, "Taylor's powers make her act as if she's royalty, no clue about the sister part though."

Both Amy and Victoria seemed to take that at face value, dismissing it as a quirk of my power. Though it now occurred to me that they never asked about anything else. Did they think making me bitchy was the only thing my power did?

"So, are we all good here?" Dean asked tentatively, "We should get going if we actually want to get some shopping done."

I stared at the two girls across from me and they stared back.

I then stood up and performed a curtsy.

"I think that's a 'yes'," Victoria grinned, "Nice to meet you for real this time. Now let's go shopping!"

I watched the spark in Amy's eyes die.

Clothes shopping with Victoria actually wasn't that bad. If anything, it was fun as long as I chose to ignore the various shopkeepers who scurried away when they saw me. They did the same thing when I was here last week so I wasn't too worried though.

"I still think it's a shame you can't wear some of this stuff without itching," Vicky complained, putting a rather skimpy swimsuit back on the rack.

"...yeah," Amy agreed, tracking the swimsuit with her eyes, "It's definitely an…unfortunate aspect of her powers."

The mood had gotten a little damp when I had explained that, but they had taken it in stride. Truthfully, I had an instinctive feeling that the swimsuit would have been fine for me to wear. I just didn't want to try it on in front of them.

"So you're transferring to Arcadia, right?" Vicky asked as she continued looking through clothing racks.

"I remain undecided. I fear my noble appearance would be a spectacle to the uncultured masses."

Vicky parsed that for a moment, "Amy and I have mostly gotten used to the attention but with your issues I could see that being difficult."

"Once you debut as a Ward, anyone with a working brain cell would be able to put two-and-two together," Amy grunted as she fiddled with her phone on a nearby bench, "Online classes, then?"

"She hasn't met with Image yet," Dean said from his position next to her, "Maybe they'll come up with something?"

"Either way it'll cause problems," Vicky sighed as glanced at a pair of dolphin shorts, "I think it would be really nice to hang out at school though."

Oddly, I agreed. I didn't want to do homeschool or online classes as much as I thought I would. Knowing I'd be attending classes with Amy, Vicky, and the rest of the Wards sounded…fun. Even with my current problems.

"Actually," Dean spoke, a hint of an idea in his voice, "Maybe she could pull a Challenger?"

"A challenger? Like the burger from Fugly Bob's?" Amy asked in confusion.

"The Cape the burger was named after," he specified, "Before she left the protectorate last year, I overheard her saying that her civilian identity was the disguise instead of the other way around."

"What do you mean?" Victoria asked, her attention turned away from the clothing and towards the conversation, "Like wearing makeup and stuff?"

"Exactly," Dean nodded, "Makeup, different hairstyles, glasses, things like that. Maybe we could make Taylor's regular appearance less intimidating that way. It would also help separate her civilian identity from whatever happens with her cape one."

"That still doesn't take care of her speech and writing problems, right?" Vicky asked, face thoughtful.

"It doesn't, but she can probably get accommodations through the PRT," he answered, "A teacher 'in the know' to grade her work, maybe she can even learn sign language and pretend to be mute or deaf or something. And there's still whatever Armsmaster and Dragon are working on."

"She could also dye her hair blonde," Amy spoke up from nearby.

"Blonde? I mean I agree dyeing her hair could help too, but why blonde specifically?" Dean asked curiously.

Amy faltered under his gaze, "I–I don't know. I just said the first color that came to mind."

"It could totally work!" Vicky exclaimed, looking excited, "Hair dye, a different hairstyle, glasses, and a bit of makeup. As long as she doesn't speak, we could get her to totally look like a normal person."

It hurt a bit, knowing that I wasn't 'normal'. But you had to deal with the cards life dealt you I guess.

I thought about their ideas for a minute. Could that work? I'd keep it under consideration at least.

After that, the conversation lulled for a bit before Dean spoke up. "Alright. It's starting to get late. Everyone about ready to leave?"

"I guess that's fine for now," Victoria sighed melodramatically, shoving a few clothes into his hands, "Buy these for me?"

"Of course, babe," he smiled, standing up from his position next to Amy, "I'll meet you guys at the front."

"See you in a second!" Victoria smiled, watching him as he left.

When he finally disappeared around the corner, she turned towards me.

"Soooo," she started, awkwardly shuffling in place.

Immediately, my danger sense started tingling.

"Any boys you've got your eyes on?" she asked casually.

Amy's head shot up at that question.

Ah, shit. Were they worried I was going to go after Dean or something? How the hell could I word this without making things worse?

…

Wait. Right. Words bad.

I simply shook my head.

"Oh, that's a shame," Victoria said, though she did a poor job at hiding the relief in her voice. "Well," she started with a small cough, "We should probably go catch up with my boyfriend, huh?"

Amy chuckled, "Real subtle, sis."

Vicky flushed, red spreading from her neck to her cheeks.

"Okay. That wasn't cool of me," she admitted, "You didn't deserve that. I'm not even sure why I'm being all jealous."

"How about we swap numbers?" she asked, a hopeful look in her eyes as she pulled out her cellphone, "We could go shopping again some time?"

Honestly, that sounded like a lot of fun. My initial impression of the Dallon sisters was a bit rough but I enjoyed hanging out with them in the end.

There was only one teeny problem.

"A queen does not answer to trinkets," I spoke haughtily, hoping they'd get the idea. After mom died while texting while driving, cellphones had been a bit of a taboo.

Vicky blinked at me for a moment, "You don't have a cellphone?"

I nodded my head.

Amy smirked as she looked at me.

"Bet you wish you had your own carrier pigeon now, huh?"

Chapter Text

"Alright boys and girls! Gather up, we have a job to do," Lisa shouted as she walked into the living room of the loft, "It's time sensitive, up and at 'em!"

"New job already?" Brian asked as he walked in from the kitchen, motorcycle helmet already in the process of being placed over his head, "And how time sensitive are we talking? Didn't we just do a heist the other day?"

"Who cares?" Rachel grunted as she entered the room, three dogs trailing behind her, "Cash is cash."

"Gotta agree with Rache here," Alec added from his sprawled position on the couch, "I have some new clothes I wanna buy."

"I care," Brian sighed as he folded his arms in annoyance, "And you know you wouldn't need to keep buying new clothes if you just washed your old ones, right?"

"Fuck off man," Alec whined, "What are you? My mom?"

"Tonight. In a couple hours," Lisa spoke up, cutting through their conversation, "We're going on a recruitment drive."

"Another?" Alec snorted, "Because the last two times went sooooo well."

"I hate to admit it, but Alec has a point," Brian said, "Circus told us to fuck off last time we tried, and Bitch scared off Spitfire. What's changed?"

"This time," Lisa emphasized, "No one will be telling anyone to fuck off. And Rachel won't scare off the new girl."

Rachel growled slightly, "I don't want to split the money."

"I hear you," Lisa smiled, making sure to not show teeth, "But you know how this goes. We each vote and go from there."

"You realize you haven't told us anything about this girl, right?" Brian interrupted, "I'm not going to vote to recruit someone I know nothing about. That's not even considering the fact that we haven't even met her yet."

"Ugh, fine!" Lisa complained, throwing her arms in the air, "I already know how you're all going to vote, but sure, let's waste time."

"Yes. We're the ones wasting time here," Alec commented, tone sarcastic.

"Alright, alright," Lisa rolled her eyes before proceeding into her explanation, "The new girl is a human Master. She can force people to do stuff with her voice, kind of like Bad Canary. The PRT is temporarily calling her 'Majesty' until her Wards debut. The boss thinks she'll be a great fit but our window to recruit her is closing fast, so he wants us to go talk to her tonight."

"Woah, woah, woah," Brian interrupted, disbelief in his voice, "You want us to recruit a Ward?"

"She hasn't debuted yet," she made sure to stress.

"What does it matter if she already debuted or not?" he asked, a hint of confusion leaking through, "The PRT knows her civilian identity, right? How's it going to look if she dips from the Wards and suddenly a new Cape with similar powers is running around with us?"

"The Unwritten Rules are a thing," Lisa reminded him, "But you're right. Thankfully, the boss has some ideas for that."

"Are you going to be sharing those ideas with us?" Brian asked warily.

"It's on a need-to-know basis," she winked.

"Of fucking course it is," he muttered sourly.

"Relax," she smiled, "It'll be nice and easy. We'll just pay her a quick visit, sell her on the wonderful virtues of villainy, and then go on our merry way. Even if she says no, it's not a problem."

"You aren't worried she'll master us and make us jump into the bay?" he asked, an edge in his voice.

"Nah," Lisa smiled smugly, "She still considers herself a hero."

"Oh, so just prison then," Brian grouched.

"I have a plan. No one will get hurt and no one will get arrested," Lisa rolled her eyes again, "Trust me?"

"…fine," he muttered after a moment of contemplation, "But you're explaining the plan to me first and I'm going to say, 'I told you so' when everything goes up in smoke."

"The only smoke involved will be your power, not that we'll need it," Lisa reassured him. "What about you Alec, you in?"

"Hell no," he said from the couch, at some point having turned upside down so his legs were over the back and his head was near the floor.

"No?" Lisa asked, turning towards him in genuine surprise.

"No," he repeated, hair draping over his eyes.

"Why not?"

"She's a human Master and goes by the name 'Majesty'," he said simply.

"So?" Brian asked curiously.

"What do you mean 'so'?" Alec muttered, face sullen, "This is a huge deal."

"Answer or shut up!" Rachel demanded, annoyed at the conversation.

"Fine!" he shouted, "I don't want her on the team because she's stealing my shtick!"

Brian stared at him for a moment, "You're saying no because your names and powers are similar?"

"Exactly! There's only room for one of us here."

"We're not replacing you," Lisa sighed, "I could probably force a rebranding if I needed to."

"Ya mean that, Tats?" Alec smiled.

"Of course," she nodded, "After Circus turned us down, I realized you'd make an excellent clown."

"Fuck you too," he retorted, lazily raising a middle finger.

"Alright, so that makes three votes for 'yes' and one for 'no'," Lisa smiled, clapping her hands, ignoring his further protests.

Rachel scowled and stormed out of the room, dogs at her heels.

"Want me to talk to her?" Brian asked.

Lisa shrugged, "Eh. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Have you ever made tentative plans without any expectation of them ever actually happening?

Like when an acquaintance says 'We should get lunch sometime!' but you both knew you were never going to speak to each other ever again?

Well, I had never personally been in that situation, being ostracized at school and having no friends did that to a person, but that's what I thought was going to happen when I gave the Dallon sisters the number to my home phone.

So, imagine my surprise when I received a call the very next day.

My inability to say no to Victoria's cheerful voice was why I found myself on the Boardwalk on a Tuesday night, the scent of the ocean in my nose as I walked down the wooden pathways, the two sisters beside me.

"Where to first?" Vicky asked, arms swinging at her sides.

"Shouldn't you be telling us that?" Amy asked with a roll of her eyes, "You're the one that invited us after all."

"Yeah, but it was kinda on a whim. And we did just go shopping yesterday," she said without embarrassment, "Plus I didn't expect you to want to tag along. Normally getting you to come shopping with me is like pulling teeth."

Amy blushed slightly.

"I figured since Dean wasn't coming along, I could help translate in a pinch," she said, eyes straying towards my hands.

Oh, right. She said she could read my impulses the other day. That was really thoughtful of her. I needed to keep things like that in mind if I started going out alone. Or learn sign language or something. …could I learn sign language?

Ok. That settled it. The lack of clarity was driving me crazy. Tomorrow I was going to drag along a researcher from the PRT and figure it all out.

"Your presence among my retinue is appreciated as always, sister," I smiled at her. Being able to consistently smile around Amy made hanging out with her worth it for that alone. Though, I hoped my face didn't make it look too bitchy.

"You're welcome…sis," she reciprocated, with only slight awkwardness.

It felt a bit weird to hear her say that. It gave me bittersweet flashbacks of a childhood with Emma. But if she wanted to play along with my power, I wouldn't give her crap about it. It would be hypocritical of me if anything.

"Oh! Does that make you my sister too then?" Victoria asked with an eagerness I found surprising considering we just met yesterday.

"Someone as waste-filled as you?" I scoffed, "Hardly."

Where had that come from? I hadn't even meant to speak there, it almost felt like I was compelled to say it. And what kind of an insult was that, anyways?

"What?!" she gasped out, "I am not."

"You are pretty full of shit sometimes," Amy smirked.

"C'mon Ames, not this again!" Vicky cried out, "I didn't drink your tea that time, I swear. I threw it away because there was a bug in it."

Ah. Were they rehashing an old argument?

Amy simply hummed as if in thought for a moment.

"You still could have drunk it," she said eventually.

"I'd like to see you drink bug tea," Victoria scowled playfully.

Tea actually sounded quite good right now. Without the bugs anyways.

"Perhaps a tea party is in order? I could use something to help stomach your company."

Victoria grinned, "That's as good a place to start as any. I actually know a pretty solid shop around here. It's not too expensive either."

That was a relief. I wasn't exactly made of money and prices on the Boardwalk strayed towards the outrageous side of things.

Decision made, Amy and I followed Vicky as she led us to the place.

…

Of course, that's when everything started going wrong.

…

"Hey. Do you guys hear that?" Vicky asked, stopping suddenly.

"Hear what?" Amy replied, looking around.

"Listen," Victoria whispered, "It sounds like it's getting closer."

I paused, trying to pick up what she was talking about. It took me a second to hear it.

It sounded like…barking?

I turned around and immediately saw the source of the noise.

Three absolutely massive monstrosities of bone, muscle, and spikes were barreling down the Boardwalk towards us.

…well, I guess I was dead then. It had been a good run.

Actually, wait. No it hadn't. My life was terrible.

Luckily, Glory Girl wasn't so fatalistic.

"It's Hellhound! Amy, take Taylor and run! Evacuate the civilians if you can!" she shouted as she shot off like a gun, sailing through the air as she went to meet their charge with her own.

Amy instantly grabbed my hand and started running, trying to lead me in the direction of the screaming and fleeing bystanders.

Unfortunately, we didn't make it very far.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she hissed, tugging on my arm with the same effect an ant would against a boulder, "We need to go!"

I stared at my feet dumbly as they stayed glued to the pavement. Why? Why couldn't I move? Was my power trying to get me killed?

"Holy shit. You can't control it," Amy blurted, eyes going wide with realization, "Shit. Shit. Shit. What do we do?"

And as I continued to stare at my feet blankly, for a brief, faint moment, I felt a connection to something, and I understood.

"A ruler does not retreat in the face of opposition," I said calmly.

"What? What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked, voice frantic.

My power didn't want me to run away and as I contemplated it, I found myself agreeing.

I wasn't powerless anymore. I had the ability to help people. I was a Ward.

And honestly, attempts to hide my civilian identity were moot anyways.

I turned towards the two beasts that had managed to slip past Victoria, my crown already forming above my head.

"Sit," I commanded.

And they obeyed.

It was rather unfortunate for their riders, however.

Three people sailed through the air as they somersaulted off their mounts, limbs pinwheeling comically until they hit the ground and then skid, sliding to a stop a few feet away from me.

Immediately groans of pain filled the air.

"Fuck you, Bitch!" a man wielding a scepter and a venetian mask moaned out.

What the hell was he calling me a bitch for?! I wasn't the one riding giant monsters through a public area!

I watched and waited as he and the two others slowly stood up.

"Well, that wasn't how I wanted our introduction to go," said a blonde-girl as she dusted off her lavender and black bodysuit.

"How exactly were you expecting this to go?" asked her other companion, a man wearing a motorcycle helmet with a skull-shaped visor. He sounded pissed.

"Well, I wasn't expecting Bitch and her dogs to suddenly go apeshit the second we got near the Boardwalk, for starters!" she snapped back.

"Isn't knowing stuff your whole deal?" Mr. Renaissance with the venetian mask asked, "And you both agreed to this plan, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Regent!" they shouted simultaneously.

Who the hell were they?

Amy scowled from beside me, hand still clasped around mine, "These fucking morons must be the Undersiders."

What kind of a name was that?

"Undersiders?" I sniffed distastefully, "A deserving name for ilk that looks like it was scraped off the bottom of a boot."

Hearing my voice, they turned towards us.

And stiffened the moment they saw me, because of course they would.

"Wow. You are so much more intimidating in person," the girl commented, eyes wide behind her domino mask.

"You know her, Tattletale?" Motorcycle guy asked, voice tight, his stance shifting to something ready for combat.

"Of course I do, Grue! She's the girl I was telling you about," she grinned, flashing impeccably white teeth.

"Wait. This is her?" he replied, sounding horrified, "I thought you said we were here to recruit a Ward."

Wait. What. They were here to recruit me?

"Fat fucking chance," Amy sneered, "She's not going to join a group of villains. Especially two-bit ones like you."

Tattletale turned towards her, arching an eyebrow, "Oh, if it isn't Brockton's resident healer. Shouldn't you be worrying about all the people you're letting die while you're here on this little date of yours?"

Amy's grip around my hand tightened.

"You will keep words regarding my sister out of your throat, lest you find a noose around it," I stated calmly.

"Oh? Sister?" Tattletale smirked, waggling her eyebrows, "You sure know how to pick 'em Panacea. I wonder how she and Gloryhole would feel if I told them what was really going on inside that head of yours."

"Shut the fuck up!" Amy spat.

Tattletale snorted, turning her head towards me, "See. Little Amy here–".

"Kneel."

Grue, Regent, and Tattletale collapsed, knees hitting the ground with a meaty thud.

Regent's scepter slipped out of his grasp and rolled towards me. I picked it up and held it as they stared up at me in a daze.

"Y'know, Tats, now that I'm looking at her from this angle, I think you're right," Regent spoke as he eyed me up and down, "She rocks the aesthetic way better."

Grue smacked him on the backside of the head, before turning to Tattletale, "This is not going how you said it was going to go."

"You think I don't know that?" she scowled at him, "Alright. Plan B. Smoke bomb!"

…

I stared at them.

"What the hell, Grue?" she snapped, "I said 'Smoke bomb'!"

"I can't," he hissed, "My powers aren't working."

"What?" she repeated dumbly, then turned towards Regent.

"Don't look at me," he shrugged, "Mine aren't working either."

She then turned towards the creatures they had been riding…ones that now looked like normal, not-about-to-eat-your-face dogs.

"Ohhhh," Tattletale exclaimed, "She's a Trump!"

"Tattletale?" Brian asked calmly.

"Yes, Grue?" she responded curiously.

"I told you so."

Chapter Text

Tattletale


Tattletale kept a loose and easy smile on her face as she kneeled on the ground next to Regent and Grue.

On the inside, however, she was screaming in a near-inarticulate rage.

How the FUCK did this happen?!

When she got her hands on Bitch, she was going to strangle the stupid fucking girl and there wasn't a damned thing Brian would be able to do to stop her.

They had made plans, goddamnit! And no matter what Regent said, those plans didn't involve kneeling on the Boardwalk while the bitchiest girl alive stared down at them like they weren't even worthy of licking her toes. Hell, they weren't even supposed to be on the actual Boardwalk right now at all!

They were supposed to be waiting nearby, hidden away until they got a chance to approach Majesty while she was alone. Far, far away from any other heroes or civilians.

The only reason she wasn't completely freaking out, was that unlike Regent and Grue, her powers were still working.

She chanced a quick look at Majesty's face, flexing her power of super intuition.

[Thinks you're all idiots.]

Lisa hated when people thought she was dumb. But honestly, she couldn't even blame her. This situation was fucking stupid.

"Hey, look," Lisa spoke up, flashing a pleasant, if slightly strained smile, "I think we got off on the wrong foot here. This is all just a big misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?!" Amy glared, face practically a snarl, "You call having a bunch of monsters try and attack us a misunderstanding? You're fucking villains."

[Hates villains. Is worried that you'll tell Majesty and her sister about her proclivities. Wants you dead. Feels guilty about wanting you dead. Wants you dead anyways.]

Ugh. She should not have pissed the healer off.

"Woah. That's rude," Regent spoke up from beside her, the same uncaring expression on his face as usual, "Not all of us are 'fucking' villains. Some of us, like Tats, are asexual villains, thank you."

Lisa stared at him blankly. How the hell did he have the energy to joke right now?

[Is used to being in situations like these.]

What? When had he experienced something like this?

[Is used to being under Master influence. Has spent many hours on his knees–]

What the fuck power. TMI.

She clamped down on it for the moment. She did not want to find out more about that.

"We weren't going to attack you," she added quickly, desperately thinking back to more relevant matters, "We didn't even mean to come down to the Boardwalk. Bitc—Hellhound's dogs went out of control."

"You expect us to believe that after you clearly said you wanted to recruit her?" Amy asked disbelievingly.

"Yes?" Lisa couldn't resist retorting sarcastically, "Think about it. What kind of morons would try and recruit someone by running them down? And in public too?"

Amy Dallon's disdainful glance between the three of them conveyed her answer without the need for words.

"It's true," Grue joined in, "We might be villains, but we're small time. Minor heists. We don't just randomly attack people."

Lisa could tell Panacea didn't care at all. Majesty, on the other hand, was having different thoughts.

[Is annoyed you'd think she'd ever become a villain. But is used to being misunderstood. Doesn't want to misunderstand you too. Wants to give you the benefit of the doubt.]

Thank fuck.

She'd have to be careful not to let slip that she was actually only here to sow chaos and distrust between Majesty, the PRT, and New Wave, but she could work with this.

"Listen—"

"Get back here!" a voice cried out, interrupting her.

Turning, Lisa's eyes went wide as the last of Bitch's dogs dashed towards them, with their snarling master on its back, Glory Girl following in hot pursuit.

"Bitch! Stand down!" Grue shouted as they scrambled back to their feet.

"Get out of the way!" the canine master roared, hatred in her eyes as she stared at Majesty.

[Is furious. Wants Majesty dead.]

Real fucking useful right now!

"Wait!" Lisa called out, her own voice entering the mix.

It ended up being too late of course.

"Down," Majesty commanded, her voice as cold as a glacier.

And just like that, the Undersiders were on the ground. Again.

Lisa couldn't help but moan as she smacked against the floor, barely avoiding dribbling her head off it like a basketball.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Regent groaned out beside her.

Lisa rolled in agony. She definitely landed on something wrong.

It's a shame she didn't even have time to check.

"Bitch! Stop!" Grue shouted, causing Lisa to turn her head towards the troublemaker again.

Rachel had gotten off her dog and was crawling across the ground like a demon from one of those old Japanese horror films, fingers literally scraping across the ground as she forced her way forward.

Christ. Why was she acting like this?

"Grue! Pin her down. She's out of control!"

She watched as Grue tried to stand, fail, and then give up and resort to crawling as well.

After a few moments of watching, Tattletale joined in too.

Fuck her dignity, she would not let Bitch make the situation worse than it already was.

"Gaze upon them, sister," Majesty chuckled, still standing in the same location, not having taken a step, "See how they crawl and squirm like baby sea turtles moving towards the ocean."

"Sea turtles?" Amy asked, staring in morbid fascination, "I thought you'd call them worms or something like that."

"Too uninspired," she replied calmly, staring at them with those same, fucking annoying eyes.

[Is amused.]

Lisa was glad someone was having a good time today.

Eventually she and Grue were able to dogpile on top of Rachel, keeping the snarling girl from advancing any farther.

"Why are you acting like this?" Grue demanded, straining as he tried to keep Bitch in place.

"She hurts dogs!" she growled, veins bulging in her neck and forehead.

What?

[Believes Majesty kicks puppies. Believes Majesty drowns puppies. Believes Majesty is equivalent to the Slaughterhouse Nine, but for puppies.]

What the fuck? How could she possibly believe that? Why did she believe that?

[A negative power interaction regarding Majesty's face. And information provided by Coil.]

Of. Fucking. Course.

She had no clue when or why Coil told her that information, but she had more immediate issues to deal with.

"It's not true!" Lisa yelped, narrowly dodging a backwards kick Rachel aimed at head, "Majesty wouldn't hurt a fly!"

That wasn't true, but the girl definitely wouldn't hurt dogs if she could help it.

"Fucking liars! I can see it on her face!" Bitch howled.

Taking a glance, Lisa couldn't help but wince. Majesty's face literally had a teeth-exposing smile that could make a devil cry.

Yeah, Lisa wasn't sure she would buy that either.

She had one more trick up her sleeve though.

"Her power changed her. Made her look different. Made it harder to communicate with people. Like you," Lisa pleaded, growing slightly desperate, "I promise you she doesn't hurt dogs. She'd even help you save as many dogs as possible if you gave her the chance."

That, at least, seemed to get through to her.

Rachel slowed down, the fight leaving her slightly. She glanced up at Majesty, angry eyes furrowed, "You don't hurt dogs?"

"I would never debase myself with cruelty against such loyal creatures. I have greater foes reserved for my amusement."

Lisa didn't need her power to know that Rachel didn't believe or really even understand what she was saying. But apparently calling the dogs loyal had been enough.

Slowly. Slowly, she felt Bitch calm down and stop fighting.

She and Grue immediately flopped to the side in relief.

"W-what's going on here?" Victoria Dallon asked in confusion as she got closer to the scene.

"Misunderstanding," Lisa said simply, struggling to find the energy for longer sentences.

"So they claim," Amy smirked, obviously enjoying her suffering.

"You're going to have to explain more than that. Why are they on the ground? And who turned the dogs back to normal?" Victoria asked, looking at the perfectly normal Terrier, Rottweiler, and German Shepherd that were now lying calmly next to their fallen master.

"Turns out 'Majesty' over here is a human Master," Amy shrugged, gesturing in Taylor Hebert's direction, "And she has a Trump power too. Stopped them all right in their tracks."

"'W-what?" Victoria spluttered, "Human Master? Trump? How are you so calm about this?"

Amy simply shrugged again, "She's a Ward. The PRT trusts her and so do I."

[Finds Majesty attractive. Thinks her voice is sexy. Finds the idea that Majesty can turn off her power enticing. Thinks the ability to command her to do things woul–]

Tattletale clamped down on her power again.

"That's not what I meant," Victoria corrected, pulling Amy and Taylor into further discussion. As they broke off to converse, Lisa's thoughts continued to churn rapidly.

She would pretend to be exhausted as long as she could, but she still needed to find a way out of this mess. If only she knew what the hell Coil was doing.

She knew about his powers. Maybe not the full details but enough to know something like this should never have happened.

Were Majesty's Trump powers interfering somehow? Wasn't there supposed to be a distance limit? Did that only apply to the Master effect?

She wanted to smack her power for not having picked up on any of this. And she wanted to smack whoever did Majesty's power testing even harder.

That said, there was no better time to learn than the present. Especially if it would help keep her out of PRT custody.

And so she stared at the regal girl, turning up her power a notch as she tried to sort out the details.

[Not a Trump.]

What? That didn't make any sense. She must be seeing things wrong.

She tried again.

[Not a Trump.]

No no no no no Lisa panicked internally. What did that mean? Was her own power getting affected now? Or was there a different Trump just hanging around somewhere? Conveniently getting in the way of things?

She furtively glanced at her surroundings, trying to see if she could find the offending party.

And eventually she did.

Her eyes landed on Majesty's crown.

...

[Is responsible for Trump effects.]

[Is Sapient.]

[Is Watching Coil.]

[Is Watching You.]

[Is Watching Us.]

Lisa tried very hard not to scream.

Taylor Hebert


I stood next to Amy and Vicky as they talked.

"Her being a human Master isn't the problem," Vicky gesticulated, "I'm dating one after all."

"What's the problem then?" Amy scowled, hand still wrapped around my own like a vice.

"There isn't a problem with Taylor," Victoria rolled her eyes, trying to convey her point, "It's just a lot to take in at once. Like how did none of this come up in conversation yesterday?"

"Because you were too busy geeking out about all her other stuff?" Amy suggested.

Vicky groaned, running a hand through her blonde locks, "Maybe."

I didn't blame Vicky. I was confused too. I certainly didn't remember having a Trump ability. But then again, the only parahuman I had used my power on before this was Armsmaster and he was a Tinker so who knew how that affected things.

It also didn't help that I suspected my power was a lot more 'alive' than I had thought it was. My attempts at personifying it were supposed to be a joke.

God, there really was something controlling me, wasn't there?

If it weren't for the brief sense of security and trust I felt during that strange connection earlier, I'd be freaking out even more. In the end it was just another question to add to the bag of "What the fuck" that I was dealing with.

Eventually, I decided to draw their attention back towards more pressing matters.

"In what manner should we dispose of these vermin? Gallows? Guillotine? By Breaking Wheel?"

We all turned to look at the collective heap of villainy lying defeated on the floor.

"Wha–No," Vicky laughed, "They technically only caused a public disturbance. Not sure that warrants death or torture."

"Even with all their robbery charges?" Amy asked, her voice sounding hopeful.

"Even with all of their robbery charges," Vicky smirked, though she managed to sound a bit disappointed too. "Plus the PRT should be here soon," she added.

And speak of the devil.

Armsmaster and Miss Militia rolled up towards us, each on their own individual motorcycle.

"The Undersiders?" Armsmaster asked, in a way that clearly wasn't an actual question.

"Yup!" Vicky smiled, answering anyways, "Apparently Majesty took them all out without any problems."

That caused Miss Militia to raise an eyebrow. "How did you manage that?" she asked, sounding impressed.

I simply shook my head for now. I'd prefer to explain everything at once later instead of trying over and over again and messing things up.

She seemed to understand, and I watched as they sprayed containment foam on the Undersiders. I was a little surprised at how little they resisted. Bitch was the only one who even tried. In fact, Tattletale seemed practically shell-shocked. I guess they knew it was going to be impossible to escape at this point.

That didn't stop me from wondering if they'd manage to escape later though. Most of Brockton's villains seemed to be able to.

Eventually, Armsmaster turned back towards me.

"Your identity is now compromised," he said, gesturing towards the bystanders recording nearby.

Yeah. I suspected something like this would happen the moment I activated my power.

It was a little weird though. It kind of felt good, having them look at me like that, fear and admiration both. I wondered what that meant about my mental state.

"A ruler has no need to hide their face from their lessers."

"Exactly!" Vicky chimed in, "It's all about accountability."

I'm pretty sure that's decidedly not what I said. I wasn't really trying to parrot one of New Wave's talking points. But I guess the sentiment sounded the same.

Ultimately, I was pretty sure my power wouldn't let me go masked for long. And it was an emergency.

It was probably better to just rip the Band-Aid off, all told.

Armsmaster looked at me searchingly for a moment before nodding his head.

"Very well. But you'll have to explain that to Director Piggot."

Oh. Right.

I couldn't say I was looking forward to that.

Chapter Text

This chapter was beta-read by adeliewings

Interlude: Amy Dallon, Stalwart Defender

It was 2:00 am on a Thursday morning and by all logic and reasoning Amy Dallon should have been asleep. But here she was, sitting on her bed, wide awake.

It was hard to sleep, thinking about all the people in the world dying from terminal diseases.

It was hard to sleep, thinking about those dying from stabs and gunshot wounds.

It was hard to sleep, knowing many of them were dying because of her; dying because she wasn't out there, using her powers to save them.

That, combined with the despair she felt towards her incestuous crush on her sister, made it easy to see why she had trouble sleeping.

Normally, the sheer anguish would lead to her sneaking out of the house and heading towards the hospital, wanting to do anything she could to make the hopelessness and guilt disappear.

…at least that was normally the case.

This night, however, she didn't plan on going to Brockton Bay General.

No, she had far more important things to do than rescuing a couple of bullet-riddled gangsters or saving some sick kids with cancer.

No. Amy Dallon was fighting a war.

Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.

You are currently logged in, Panacea_Official

♦ Topic: Boardwalk Incident

In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Wards ► Majesty

Alathea (Original Poster) (Moderator)

Posted On Jan 12th 2011:

This is the place to discuss the altercation that occurred on 01/11/2011 between Majesty and the Undersiders.

Remember: Majesty is a WARD.

No, we don't care that she hasn't officially debuted yet.

No, we don't care that she was publicly outed.

No, we don't care that she's announced she's going to be a maskless cape.

The PRT has made their stance clear. Any mention of her civilian name will result in a permanent ban.

For discussion regarding Majesty's future costume, click here.

For discussions regarding Majesty's powers, click here.

For general discussion, click here.

(Showing page 143 of 143)

►TestTubeBaby

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@holyguac

Dude. She took down the Undersiders single-handedly. The PRT has released multiple statements at this point saying she's a hero. She's literally a Ward.

►holyguac

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@TestTubeBaby

All I'm saying is that she looks insane as fuck. Like, yeah, cool, she stopped four villains or whatever. But look at her. It's obvious that the only reason the Undersiders are still alive is because Glory Girl and Panacea were holding her back from killing them.

►UnintelligableCringe

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@holyguac

Idk man. you say that like it's a bad thing. id literally pay cash to have her spit on me, much less murder me

►Pandaspandapandas

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

i can fix her

►Panacea_Official (Verified Cape)

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@holyguac

There was no need to 'hold her back'. Majesty isn't a villain. Fuck off.

@Pandaspandapandas

As the only healer in Brockton Bay, I can assure you that nothing about her needs to be fixed. She's perfect just the way she is.

►holyguac

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@Panacea_Official

what? you come after me but have no response to the whole 'paying to get murdered' thing that other guy said?

And on and on and on it went, stupid asshole after stupid asshole, spewing absolute garbage about things they didn't know anything about.

It had been over a week since Taylor had left the Undersiders groveling on the Boardwalk and Brockton Bay was still going insane because of it.

'Majesty is a villain', this and 'Majesty has secretly Mastered the PRT', that.

It seemed like every time she blinked someone was saying something asinine about her.

Like right now.

A ping from the second laptop in front of her grabbed her attention. She quickly turned her gaze towards the screen.

Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.

You are currently logged in, I_Wish_You_Would_All_Die

♦ Topic: Costume Ideas

In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Wards ► Majesty

Alathea (Original Poster) (Moderator)

Posted On Jan 12th 2011:

This is the place to discuss potential costume ideas for the upcoming Brockton Bay Ward known as Majesty.

Keep all suggestions and discussions appropriate.

(Showing page 203 of 203)

►UltimateSurvivor

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

she should wear a chainmail bikini. she wud look badass as fk. like a warrior queen instd of the fking loser she is

What the fuck? A bikini? Calling Taylor a loser?

Not on her watch.

►I_Wish_You_Would_All_Die

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@UltimateSurvivor

A bikini? Are you out of your fucking mind? That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard. A chainmail bikini is only an appropriate costume for a SLUT. WHICH MAJESTY ISN'T.

►UltimateSurvivor

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@I_Wish_You_Would_All_Die

oh yeh? ur talking alotta shit. dont pretend like you didnt suggst a latex suit earlier. any1 with a brain can tell ur just a kinky freak

►I_Wish_You_Would_All_Die

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@UltimateSurvivor

How am I the freak here??? Latex is domineering. It's perfect for a QUEEN. Unlike a bikini, which doesn't cover a fucking thing.

►UltimateSurvivor

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@I_Wish_You_Would_All_Die

whtevr you say freak. dsnt matter anyways. its just a matter of time before the triumvirate does smthg about that crazy btch and sends her to the brd cage

►I_Wish_You_Would_All_Die

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@UltimateSurvivor

Stop calling me a freak! Wasn't your other suggestion a goddamn corset and a garter belt? Maybe look in the mirror before you keep talking.

For someone who keeps going from thread to thread talking about how dangerous or lame she is, you sure do spend a lot of time talking about the creepy outfits you want to see her in.

►UltimateSurvivor

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@I_Wish_You_Would_All_Die

ur lucky im busy these days. bet u wouldnt say that to my face btch

►I_Wish_You_Would_All_Die

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@UltimateSurvivor

"Busy" LOL. Just shut the fuck up and keep Majesty's name out your mouth.

Of course that's when one of the stupid mods had to intervene.

►Tin_Mother (Super Moderator)

Replied On Jan 20th 2011:

@I_Wish_You_Would_All_Die

@UltimateSurvivor

Alright, enough of that. You were warned to keep the discussion appropriate.

All of this over a costume? You both should know better.

Enjoy your bans.

Amy slammed the lid of the laptop shut.

Again? That dumb, tin bucket cunt, banned her again?

And they had the audacity to try and simplify it as being 'over a costume'?!

Did they not understand the importance of what was happening here? This was about more than a fucking costume.

If she wasn't worried about an IP ban, she would have immediately created a new account to put that psycho 'survivor' bitch in their place.

As for the mod? They could go fuck themselves. They were probably some basement-dwelling loser that had never touched grass in their life.

In the meantime, she'd have to settle on using her official account, even if she couldn't say the same things on it.

"Amy?"

Amy jerked her head towards the doorway of her room.

Vicky was staring at her, a sleepy and confused look on her face.

"Shit. Sorry. Did I wake you up?" Amy asked sheepishly, the rage slipping from her in wake of her embarrassment.

"S'okay," Victoria yawned as she stretched, chest straining against the fabric of her PJs in a way that left Amy staring, "Can't sleep?"

"PHO," Amy grumbled, turning her gaze to bore a hole into her closed laptop.

"Don't you think you're obsessing over this a bit too much?" Vicky asked, head leaning against the doorframe, "Taylor didn't seem too worked up about it."

"Taylor literally can't get worked up even if she wanted to. Plus the PRT stopped her from making her own PHO account. She can't even defend herself," Amy replied waspishly, "Besides, aren't you and the Wards also helping?"

"That's fair. We are," Vicky conceded, "But you know white knighting her isn't going to get her to like you, right?"

Amy's head instantly shot up, eyes wide as she locked gazes with Vicky, "What?"

"C'mon Ames. I can be slow sometimes but I'm not that slow," Vicky rolled her eyes, "You literally walked into a wall when you spotted her yesterday."

Immediately, Amy's face turned a deep red, a blush going straight to the tip of her ears.

"It's cute," Victoria grinned, "It also explains why you've never liked those double dates with me and Dean."

That wasn't quite the reason but Amy would never admit that.

"So what's your game plan?" Vicky plowed on, "You haven't told her how you feel yet, right?"

"I don't have a plan," Amy scowled, "And I'm still not sure if I want to say anything."

"What? Why not?" Victoria asked, eyebrows rising.

"There's a couple reasons," Amy answered reluctantly, "But the biggest one is that I don't know if she's gay or bi or whatever. Usually I could use my power to tell, but it's hard to get a read on that with her."

"She sure didn't seem to mind all the time you spent holding her hands," Vicky smirked, her eyebrows now waggling.

Amy's blush intensified, "It's probably that weird sister thing of hers."

"Oh, yeah," Victoria hummed in thought, "We never did find out why she calls you that, huh?"

"No," Amy replied sourly, "And that would make a relationship…difficult."

"True," Vicky grinned, "Imagine your girlfriend calling you sister. Wouldn't that be weird?"

Amy stared at Victoria with an indiscernible expression on her face.

"But honestly, it's not that big of a deal," Vicky continued, "Royalty was full of incest, right? Just think of it as roleplay or something."

Amy really wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll stop teasing," Vicky smirked, "How about you give her a present? And see how she reacts?"

"What kind of present?" she asked with a bit of trepidation.

"Something that doesn't leave your intentions to the imagination. Something that all girls like. Flowers."

"Flowers," she repeated, as if tasting the idea.

"Yeah, a bouquet fit for a queen," Vicky nodded, "I'm sure she'd love it."

A bouquet fit for a queen…

What kind of flowers would Taylor like? Something like normal roses wouldn't work. Her powers would probably force her to reject them. She would need something special.

"...yeah. Yeah, I can do that. I can get her flowers," Amy slowly agreed, warming up to the proposal.

"Perfect," Vicky grinned again, shooting her an enthusiastic thumbs up, "I know a great place where you can get some."

Amy gazed at her hands in thought and then slowly turned towards the potted plant sitting on her window sill.

A conflicted expression appeared on her face before disappearing. "That's okay. I already have something in mind."

Vicky stared at her for a moment before realizing she wasn't going to elaborate.

"Well let me know if you need help with anything, alright? I'm an excellent wing-woman," her sister gloated.

"A wing-woman? Like a pigeon?" Amy couldn't resist needling, even as her face twisted. The idea of having her crush help set her up with her other crush caused her stomach to churn. "Okay. I'll let you know."

Vicky glowered at her for a moment.

"Alright. Go to bed. We still have school tomorrow," her sister commanded as she slowly floated out of the room.

Amy watched Victoria's silhouette disappear, the door shutting behind her.

She let the deeply conflicted emotions run through her before letting out a slow exhale.

Honestly, her sister was right. She should get some sleep. Maybe it would help her process what the fuck just happened.

But then her eyes caught a glimpse of her laptop.

…she could afford to stay up a bit longer.

Chapter Text

Taylor Hebert

As I walked through the PRT building, I couldn't help but notice how busy and downright different things were compared to the last time I had visited. This entire section of the ENE Headquarters had been completely rearranged during my absence.

Cubicles now jutted up from previously empty spaces like ugly, blocky weeds, and dozens of men and women were scurrying back and forth with an almost manic energy, carrying papers and piles of fabric.

Why did it look like the entirety of New York's Image department had decided to migrate here? I hoped this wasn't related to me somehow. 

I mean sure, I had maybe, possibly, conceivably caused a tiny ruckus on PHO. But even that shouldn't have warranted a response like this.

Briefly, I turned my mind towards my last conversation with Director Piggot, trying to think if she had hinted towards something that would result in this level of activity.

That talk had mostly been her yelling at me for revealing my identity, followed by disbelief and mild respect that I had captured all of the Undersiders, and then outright anger upon learning that I had a Trump ability.

Honestly, I felt bad during the power testing that had immediately followed that conversation. The researchers in charge had looked extremely uncomfortable with her staring at them the entire time. The Director had been giddy by the end of it though. ...which was a weird look on the woman as awful as that sounded.

After that, she had sent me home with a few PRT agents to act as security detail for my house and Dad. I hadn't really thought about how it would affect him which made me a little ashamed, but he had mostly taken it in stride.

The few other times I talked to her since then hadn't given away much either. So no, nothing was ringing a bell.

Something else was going on here.

Unable to resist the urge, I stepped in front of a random woman and called out to her.

"You there! Explain this chaos to me. Is it ritualistic madness or merely the effects of caffeine?"

All movement in the room abruptly stopped.

Heads popped up over cubicle walls to stare at me like meerkats peeking out of their holes to look for predators.

It was actually surprising at how little their gazes bothered me now. A few weeks ago it would have set off every fight-or-flight response in my body. But humans were nothing if not adaptable I suppose. And hours of doom-scrolling and ego-surfing on PHO had managed to numb me in a way I didn't think was possible without drugs.

Hell, it was even a little funny. Every time I looked towards them they immediately ducked behind cover, making me feel like I was playing a real-life version of whack-a-mole.

"M-me?" the young woman stuttered, staring at me like a deer caught in headlights. Or maybe like an innocent sheep before a particularly ravenous wolf.

Actually, the deer thing sounded better.

"Yes, you. Is there any other woman around with so little sense?" I rolled my eyes, "I can hear your thoughts rattle inside your skull."

"Oh! Uhh–we're preparing!" she answered, blushing furiously.

Huh. Okay. That literally didn't tell me anything.

"That was a pitifully useless answer. Refine it before I confirm you have brain damage instead of merely suspecting it."

"S-sorry. I can't tell you anything specific. I signed an NDA," she stammered again, seeming almost ashamed she couldn't tell me.

That was…unfortunate. And oddly troubling. The whole situation was making me wary, like there was a bomb hidden somewhere, waiting to explode. What the hell was going on here?

No matter what though, it wasn't her fault.

Conversation over, I reached into my purse (I was still getting used to having one), pulled out a business card, and then tossed it at her feet like unwanted trash.

She stared at it blankly before looking up at me in confusion.

I stared back.

Eventually, she bent over and picked it up off the floor, holding it in front of her with both hands before proceeding to read it out loud.

"Hello. My name is Majesty, a Protectorate Ward. My power makes it so I say and do mean things sometimes without intending to. Please forgive me. If you're having trouble communicating with me, please call the following PRT hotline for assistance: XXX-XXX-XXXX."

She looked at me again for a moment before her blush intensified.

"I-I know who you are!" she smiled shyly, "I'm actually a big fan. I even applied to this position because of you."

Excuse me?

Before I could formulate a response, she dashed away while yelling, clutching the business card tightly to her chest, "I got a Majesty Card!" 

The meerkats surrounding us cheered and hollered as she disappeared into their cubicle-enshrined tunnels.

Maybe I wasn't as numb inside as I thought. Burning with embarrassment, first or second-hand I wasn't sure, I fled to my meeting with Image. 

Getting to my destination, I knocked on the door in front of me and entered, coming face to face with a man.

"Miss Hebert!" he smiled as I took my seat across from him, "I'm Glenn Chambers. Head of PRT Image. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Wait. Wasn't he supposed to be in New York? I thought this was going to be a meeting with some random person. Was New York's Image team actually here?

I stared at him, taking in the appearance of the man in charge of spearheading the PRT's efforts at fixing my poor reputation; the man who Piggot informed me was behind the business card idea.

...I kind of wanted to punch him in the face and then run away. And not only because of the stupid cards.

The man looked like he was handed a pamphlet titled, 'How to Dress To Impress', taken one look at it, and then used it to wipe his ass.

Maybe it was harsh. But he was obese, his clothes didn't fit properly or even look all that flattering, and he had one of the dumbest hairstyles I had ever seen in my life. It was like he wanted a mohawk but didn't want to actually pay someone to have it cut and styled, so he just used hair gel to force it into the shape of one.

All of that, combined with his dorky, rectangular glasses, left me less than impressed. Even my old glasses weren't that dumb looking.

"Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?" he said, gesturing towards the coffee maker and teabags lying in the corner of the room.

"Brewed by your hands?" I replied with disgust, "No. Even the assurance of a poison-tester couldn't deign me to sip such filth."

His grin only grew wider, "I have assistants who can make it for you if you'd prefer. I'm sure Kayleigh wouldn't mind making you a cup."

I shook my head. Honestly, most of that earlier disgust had been my own instead of my power.

"That's fine," he continued, "Then let's just jump straight into things, shall we?"

Yeah. That sounded good to me. Let's get this over with as soon as possible.

"Now, originally when I requested this meeting with you from Piggot, she wanted Gallant to sit in to help 'ease communication'", he said, making finger quotes at the end of his sentence, "But I insisted otherwise. Do you know why?"

Because he was a dick?

"It's because you won't always have Gallant with you out in the field," he answered without waiting for my response, "If you're going to be pulling children out of burning buildings or reassuring robbery victims, you're not always going to have a knight in shining armor to make sure people know that you're not the one who started the fire or robbed them in the first place."

…That was fair. I guess.

"That's where the idea of the cards came from. But outside of that, I want you to speak to me without holding yourself back. The sooner I get a grasp on what I'm working with the better."

Was he serious, right now? I hoped he knew what he was getting into.

"Very well, I shall give you the privilege of hearing my voice. I would hate for you to try and consume the silence," I answered, shooting a glance at his gut.

"Good!" he said, sounding weirdly excited. "Then to start, our goal is to have you debut and be on the streets patrolling as soon as possible. The earlier you can convince people you're harmless, or rather, harmless to anyone who isn't a villain, the better."

I nodded. That made sense to me. I was eager to get out there too.

"Now, I do want to say that you've done an excellent job so far given your circumstances," he nodded in appreciation, "Your handling of the Undersiders couldn't have gone better even if I had planned it myself."

"Four captures within minutes? Minimal injuries? Handing them over to the Protectorate? All while within the presence of heroes from New Wave?" He praised me. "Yes. You did an excellent job."

"And while I would have preferred you wear a mask, even that can be twisted in our favor. After all, it's silly to worry about a Master swaying public opinion in the shadows when they're walking around with their face exposed to everyone, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed. Someone with my bearing could hardly be bothered. Such a task is better suited for a rat-like spymaster," I said, sending him a knowing look.

"Glad you understand," he winked, "So let's talk about costumes then."

My spine stiffened in nervousness and excitement.

"For you, we decided to do some demographic testing and analysis. We showed various groups of people pictures of you in different computer-generated outfits to see what worked and what didn't. Curious what they thought?"

I had to admit, I was.

"Yes. What praises do they speak between bouts of trembling and groveling?"

He reached into his desk and pulled out five stacks of downwards facing photos and placed them in front of me. He then flipped the first group over, displaying the photo on top.

…what the fuck was this?

"You would wrap me in the raiments of a storybook hag?" I asked with thinly veiled contempt as I stared at the picture of me dressed in pitch black robes, "Shall I fetch a cauldron for you? A poisoned apple, perhaps?"

"Not a fan?" Chambers laughed, "Don't worry. We're not either."

"That photo was actually created by one of our interns as a joke. In reality, we tried virtually every other color we could," he clarified, as he flipped the rest of the photos over, "We tried blue, red, gold, green, you name it."

"Unfortunately, robes trended poorly across all demographics. In fact, I showed a photo of you dressed in an exact replica of Panacea's robes to my six year old nephew, and can you guess how he reacted?" he asked me.

"It hardly surprises me you'd seek the opinions of a child. They've certainly had an influence on your manner of dress," I responded, "But enlighten me."

"He cried," he said bluntly, "He took one look at the picture, locked onto your face, and then burst into tears. He then spent the next fifteen minutes begging me not to let the 'evil witch lady' take him."

Well fuck.

"The second thing we tried was this," he said, flipping over the second stack, revealing images of me dressed in armor of various kinds, including one set suspiciously similar to Gallant's.

"My nephew and most young boys actually liked these," he informed me, "They even asked me if there were any action figures of you."

Oh? That sounded promising.

"Yes. They thought you'd make the perfect villain for their Eidolon and Legend figurines to beat to a pulp."

…this conversation was turning depressing.

"Armor did poorly with all adults too, especially Brockton residents. Most of them felt they made you look too similar to Kaiser or just too domineering in general. They said it made them feel like you were going to conquer the Bay by force."

I grimaced internally at that. Any comparisons to the leader of our local white supremacy gang should be avoided like the plague.

He then flipped the third stack of photos over, revealing me in an assortment of dresses.

Oh, this had to be fine, right? I looked good in these photos. And who didn't like dresses?

"This set did terribly among all women," he said bluntly, shattering my hopes before they could get anywhere.

"The most frequent comparisons were 'evil step-mother', 'villainess out of a shitty romance novel', and 'evil queen that would make me clean the floors of her castle with my tongue while she used me like a stool'."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm not exaggerating," he said, shooting me a glance from the corner of his eye, "We actually got that last response in those exact words at least ten times."

He flipped over the fourth stack before I could say anything.

Okay. Classical hero attire. Sleek, skin-tight bodysuits of various colors. I looked good. Heroic, even (if you stood upside-down and squinted, anyways). 

Surely these were fine.

"These polled extremely well amongst men."

Perfec–

"And extremely poorly amongst women."

Whyyy?! Again?!

"What conspiracy blinds the eyes of the fairer sex? My radiance? Perhaps they should have their eyes removed if they won't put them to proper use," I bit out.

"The men found them sexy, and the women found them slutty," he explained, not pulling any punches.

"Truth be told, that usually wouldn't be an issue," he sighed, "The PRT isn't averse to playing up our Capes' sex appeal, even our teenaged Wards."

Ew.

"But you're the first Cape we've had where the comments were so horrendous and polarizing from both men and women that we had to blacklist and escort survey participants out the building."

How was I even supposed to react to that?

"Then I pray this isn't the summit of your creativity," I spoke dourly, "It appears you've yet to produce anything other than my condemnation."

"Don't worry. After the previous attempts we realized something important," he explained, "You're always going to look like a villain."

Gee, thanks. Tell me something I didn't already know.

"And so we decided to look at it from another angle," he continued, "Instead of trying to make you look heroic, we decided to play into your natural appearance instead."

What did that mean? How could that possibly be better than all the other options he showed me? Did they want to make me some hammy hero like Mouse Protector or something? Weren't the cards bad enough?

"And so we came up with these," he revealed, flipping over the final stack, "And they did well with all demographics."

I stared.

…that wasn't what I was expecting. People actually liked this?

"We actually have a few sets right here," he said as he picked up a box from under his desk and set it on the table.

"How about you take this, pick out what you like, visit our makeup artists and hairstylists, and then go down to the Wards room. They should all be in right now, including Glory Girl and Panacea. See what they think."

What? Amy and Vicky were here? Why?

I shot him a suspicious glance. Everyone just so happened to be here on the day I met with him? And he already had a costume prepped and ready to go?

He simply continued to smile at me.

'Alright, fine', I grumbled internally as I took the box off the desk. It's not like any of the other outfits were going to work.

Here goes nothing.