12

Chapter Text

Dallon Home / WED FEB 16

"You two," Carol snapped, "have some explaining to do."

Her eyes were darting between us, but spent the most time focused on me. She was tense, her heartrate elevated, breathing slow and deep. The sort of reactions I'd expect from a trained combatant expecting a fight. That's when I realized she was focused on me, not just as a new stranger, but a potential threat.

I put my hands up around chest-height in a 'wait' gesture, but that just made her tense more without showing it. Right, capes. "I'm sorry," I said, dropping my hands as soon as I could make it seem natural. "it's my fault we're late."

Amy turned to look at me, surprised. Carol's eyes narrowed and locked on me.

"Erm..." I tried not to wither under the glare, but I was feeling hemmed in and trapped, again. "You probably heard from dad how we got run off the road, right?"

Carol tilted her head slightly in what could loosely be termed a nod. Her husband was much more emotive in his agreement. "We were on our way out to investigate the gunshots when we found mr Hebert in the driveway," He said, motioning towards dad with a small friendly smile. "and I invited him in. By the time we knew you might be in that fight, the shooting had stopped and the fight was probably over." The statement was punctuated with a small shrug.

"Yeah." Fights were over surprisingly quick, compared to how the media portrayed them. Unless you were dealing with an A-class or higher threat, this tended to hold true in cape fights, too. "We were there, but we're fine."

Carol's gaze twitched down slightly, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine, she says..." She muttered, before her eyes pierced into mine again. "And what about Amy? You might think you're fine because she can heal 'anything', but she can't heal dead." She was getting louder, slowly creeping to her feet as she went. "And what if something happened to her? She can't heal herself! Jumping into a gunfight is stupid enough, but dragging a noncombatant into one is unconscionable!" She took a huffing breath as the room stared uneasily at her. "I won't have you filling her head with idiotic notions of running off to find bloody fights to get herself killed or worse in-"

"Excuse me." Dad cut in firmly enough to be heard over her shouting. Carol turned her cutting gaze to him, but he held without openly flinching. I could tell how nervous he was, but it didn't show. He sat there, giving her a displeased look just shy of a glare, leaning forward towards us with his hands laced in his lap. His tone was firm, but low and calm when he continued. "I won't argue with what you're saying- I even agree with most of it- but I will not sit here and listen to you screaming at my daughter." Carol hissed in a breath, muscles clenching as her hackles raised. "If that's all that's happening here, we are going to leave. Otherwise, we should sit down and discuss this, like adults, and set a proper example for our children."

The words caused a bit of a stalemate, where she cooled down a little, before she started tensing up again, likely to jump down dad's throat about it. Her husband beat her to it. "I think he's right, dear." Carol turned her attention to the meek and tired man, an entire conversation passing between them in moments, barely slow enough that I could tell it was happening, let alone try to decipher it.

In the end she took a deep breath and heaved it out in a sigh, sitting back down. The mood of the room was still tense, but much better than it'd been since we got here. They were clearly waiting for us to sit, and Amy seemed to be waiting for my cue, but something about that entire interaction was digging at the back of my mind. It took me a moment to realize what. "How did you even know we were in the fight?" A teenager running off to see what might be a cape battle was extremely stupid, but also startlingly common for the Bay. Nothing about what I'd said seemed to indicate we'd done more than stand nearby like most gawkers did.

Carol glared at me. Dad heaved out a short sigh and rubbed at his eyes. Mr Dallon gave a shy smile and scratched rather obviously at his cheek. It took me a second to get it, and when I reached up to touch my own cheek, I drew the hand back with a pained hiss. What the hell? I turned to look for something reflective, and wound up darting over to a particularly glossily framed photo of Victoria to check my face. Sure enough, almost a third of it was an irritated red, with the cheek slowly darkening into a nasty bruise. It'd be one hell of a shiner by morning.

I turned to Amy, who flinched and mouthed a pained 'sorry'. She offered out her hand, and motioned me towards her when I hesitated. No reason not to, I suppose. I gave a half-hearted huff and took her hand, waiting and feeling as the dull ache I hadn't noticed until now started to fade. "There you go." She said quietly.

I murmured my thanks, and led her over to the couch dad was on. They all watched us as we did, Carol's eyes fixed on our clasped hands until we sat and I let go. I wasn't familiar enough with the woman to tell if her tension and apprehension were just her normal state, but I was starting to suspect so. "So..." I muttered, to incite the inquisition.

Dad took point, turning to the Dallons. "Would you like to start with some of your concerns, or should I?" I really shouldn't be surprised at how well he was mediating this with little more than tone and body language, but it was kind of his job, right? Sure he was mainly Head of Hiring, but he was also the Spokesman, lobbying for support at council meetings, sitting in on some of their contract deals to help smooth over negotiations, and drumming up business alongside the other unions.

My dad was kind of amazing, actually.

"Why did you bring Amy with you?" Carol asked, the roiling emotions I could detect peeking through into her calm facade a little.

"Gunshots mean gun wounds. I thought she might be able to save lives." I promptly replied.

"...into the fight?" She reiterated.

I hesitated, but these were heroes. More than that, concerned parents. I felt I had to give them something. "I knew I could keep her safe." Up until the end, anyway.

Carol quirked an eyebrow. "And if you couldn't? If she had been hurt?"

I curled up a bit, hesitating. Amy placed a comforting hand on my knee, and dad cut in. "Taylor has a phone, she could've-"

"Dad, it's okay." I mumbled, taking a deep breath, then another. "I'm a healer." I nearly shouted at the floor. Carol's eyes narrowed, even as her husband's widened. "I'm not as good as Amy is, not as fast, but... I could have healed her."

"And that makes it okay?" Carol hissed.

"Carol,"

"No, Mark." She snapped.

"Taylor," Dad cut in, which annoyed Carol but he didn't seem to care. "Why didn't you wait with me? We could have called it in to the police and kept going."

"PRT." I said. He let out a confused noise. "There were Empire capes there, and the truck that nearly ran us over was tinkertech. ...Besides, they'd already run off. We wouldn't have had any useful information if I hadn't stopped the truck, and at least one of those men could've died if Amy hadn't been there." Amy's 'so-so' hand gesture really didn't help, there.

Carol's pocket dinged, and she dug out her phone while dad talked. "I see. And why didn't you call them after stopping the truck?"

"I-" Huh. I don't know. it seems like the obvious option in hindsight, but it still left a bad taste in my mouth for some reason. I took a while to ponder it. "I think... I didn't trust them? To make it in time, or do their jobs if they got there..."

"Why?" Carol asked, and seemed honestly confused. ...in addition to her usual emotional cocktail.

I stuttered and trailed off, not sure how to answer. I didn't want to talk about the Locker, or anything even tangentially related to it. I didn't want to dwell on how badly the administration had let me down. Dad seemed at a loss for what to say too, but Amy perked up after a few seconds. "Trigger trauma." She stated.

"What?" I asked, turning to her.

"It has to do with what happened, right?"

I winced and hunched down again. "...yeah." I rubbed my arms, but it didn't help the shivers.

"So it's trigger trauma." Amy turned to her parents, looking incredibly offended on my behalf. "Not even a month old trigger trauma."

Had it really only been a month? "Huh. I was comatose through around the 10th, wasn't I?" That had everyone staring again. Dad and Amy giving me sympathetic looks, while the older Dallons looked slightly aghast. I shook my hands out in front of me. "No, I'm fine, I think. I... it's just been a busy month, is all."

"Bit of a roller coaster." Dad chimed in with a small smile.

Mark raised his hands placatingly. "It's fine, we won't bring it up, right dear?"

Carol still stared sharply, but I could tell her emotions were conflicted. "I will want to know why your trigger has you so distrustful of the PRT, at some point."

I winced again. That did sound rather bad, didn't it? "...sure." I nodded hesitantly.

"So you knew she was a cape." She nodded to dad, who nodded back. "And you knew." Amy huffed at her mother's tone, but inclined her head in a vaguely affirmative motion. "Does Victoria know?"

My face crinkled into a cringe. "I don't..." -think so? -have any intention of telling her? -want you to tell her? "...probably not?"

She hummed disapprovingly, but nodded. "The Wards aren't an option for whatever reason?" She asked dad.

Dad nodded. "Taylor wants to form her own hero team. I think having a heroic option that doesn't involve capes tying themselves to the government or outing themselves... no offense..." All three Dallons grimaced in their own way, but didn't actually seem offended. "...will be good for the city."

Carol rubbed her chin. "I can see where it might." She pointed. "And for the record, New Wave isn't currently recruiting anyway."

"That's fine." I said. "I have some leads on recruits, I've got my training handled, and I've even got an order in with Parian for my costumes already." I felt inordinately proud of that part.

"Costumes, plural?" She asked, as if she'd misheard.

Amy leaned forward and put her hand near her mouth to stage whisper. "She's a secret big pharma heiress."

"Ohh." Carol's head tilted up, acknowledging the point. "I assume she's had the standard abduction training, already?"

Wait, like anti-kidnapping? That's a thing? By the time I realized everyone was waiting for me to answer, I'd used up my thinking time. "I... punch good?"

Amy was snickering the whole time. Dad scoffed and smirked, shaking his head. Mark didn't seem sure how to react, so he was politely smiling. Carol failed to stifle a groan.

She took a breath, and I could see her thinking 'not my problem' before she continued. "We would appreciate it if you didn't drag members of New Wave, especially non-combatants, into your fights from now on."

I bristled at the implications there, but dad took over before I could snap at her. "That sounds reasonable. I'm sure trained heroes like yourselves are more than capable of determining their own course of action. Taylor needs to learn to ask, rather than assume a fellow hero will help." I was about to snap at him, when the sour-lemon look on Carol's face made me realize he'd taken my side.

In the end, she clicked her tongue. "Yes, quite." I got the feeling she was giving dad the point in their social fight, rather than actually agreeing with him. "It's getting late, Victoria will be home soon, if you'd like to avoid telling her." From her tone and body language, internal and not, she still didn't approve of keeping her daughter in the dark. She seemed more interested in getting us out of her house though, and it wasn't a bad reason to go. I glanced at dad and we shared a nod, then looked to Amy, who bit back a grimace, but twitched her head toward the door.

I got up, and when I passed Amy and she didn't, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her up. I dragged her as she half-heartedly protested until we wound up by the door, where I hugged her.

Dad had been stopped on his way to follow by mr Dallon, who'd called him 'mr Hebert' again. "Danny, please." Dad asked, holding out his hand.

"Mark." He shook the hand, and grabbed some scrap paper and pen from an end-table, scribbling out a number. "This is my number- not New Wave's, please don't hand it out-" Dad chuckled and nodded as he accepted the scrap. "I know how hard it can be raising a parahuman daughter. I can't promise I'll be able to help, but even if I can't, I can point you at people that can. Don't hesitate to ask."

They shook hands again, more firmly this time. "I won't, thank you."

While that was going on, I was whispering in Amy's ear. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. Thank you for helping, anyway."

She sighed. "You didn't not have a point..." She pulled away, but kept her hands on my waist. "You didn't have to admit anything, or out yourself, you know." She muttered so the adults wouldn't overhear.

I smiled. "I couldn't throw you under the bus like that."

Her cheeks pinked a bit, and her chest started that frustrated rumbling again. Increased heartrate, muscle tension, elevated breathing... I'm not sure what set her off. She pushed again and turned away.

The adults were staring, by then. Carol with those dark, calculating eyes, and the dads with their soft smiles.

"We should head out." Dad came to our rescue, and started towards us and the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked Amy, who nodded and waved as she backed towards the stairs up to the bedrooms.

We got out to the truck and got in. Dad didn't bother with the radio this time. After a minute or so, he said, "Amy's a nice girl."

"Yeah?" I replied, not sure where he was going with that.

He shook his head with a little smile, and drove us home.

---

THU FEB 17

The morning started just like any other. Quick breakfast, workouts, check last night's homework, run to school... I still hadn't spotted anything suspicious within a couple blocks of myself on my run. I didn't know if that meant they'd just given up, or if I couldn't spot them. Sure I had the range to tell where people were and generally what they were up to farther than that, but it was much harder to tell if they were paying attention to me that far off.

I got to school and showered, texting Amy to see if she was at school yet when I was out. I wound up meeting her in the cafeteria for the school's questionable breakfast substitute. Way fewer students showed up for it than lunch, and the quality suffered. I still found Amy working her way through a plate of rubbery sausage and stale pancakes.

"Rough morning?" I asked. Amy usually ate at home, in spite of having to deal with her mother.

She shrugged. "Fine." She stabbed at her food. "Last night was weird, though."

"Sorry?"

"Not you." She waved away, "It's... never mind." She shook her head and went back to picking at her food.

I watched her dispassionately dissect the pressed gluten constructs for a few seconds. "Do... you want something else?"

She shrugged again. "Already hit my fruit quota."

I rolled my eyes. Of all the things to ration for breakfast, they choose the only palatable options? I hopped up and joined the short line, grabbing a couple apples and an instant oatmeal cup. Stupid two-fruit limit. I scanned my ID, poured some hot water from the little table set up after the pay station into the cup, and made my way back to Amy, tossing her one of the apples.

"You didn't have to do that." She grumbled.

"Shut up and eat." My tone was ruined by the small smirk I wore, but it got her smiling again.

---

I didn't see Cass in the halls, or at lunch. We didn't share classes, so I couldn't check that way. It wasn't too odd to not see her around, but at lunch? She wasn't outside at the bench, there were a few guys I didn't recognize with my earth senses smoking out there today. She was a big girl though, and didn't need me worrying over her, so I sat next to Amy.

"Taylor!" Kara erupted into my personal space.

"Hi!" I reflexively replied, nearly jumping into Amy's lap.

"Can I see your phone?" She asked with a far-too-innocent smile.

"Why?" I asked in what I hoped was a reasonable tone.

"I need it." She chirped happily.

"...but why?" She had her own phone, I'd seen her on it before.

"I neeeed it." She wheedled, wiggling as she stood there with her fists clenched in front of her mouth, causing her to jiggle in interesting wa- nope.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts. Still straight.

She stood there, pouting at me, her eyes twinkling as her lip quivered.

"At this point, you have three options." Amy stated from beside me. "You can either give her what she wants, wait until she starts fondling you until she finds it-" the grabby handsy motions Kara made weren't helping. "-or you can squirt your drink in her face." She took a sip of her fruit juice. "I am particularly fond of that last one."

I looked down at my own juice, and was immediately reminded of every time Madison ruined my day the same way.

With a heavy sigh, I fished out the phone and handed it over. It was just a phone, after all. Not like there was anything important on it. I had all the numbers I didn't remember written down at home and I'd never used the internet connection or the camera.

Kara let out a shrill squeal of delight and set upon the device, taking out her own and fiddling with both. Vicky floated over from Amy's other side, giggling and pointing at things, which just set Kara off again.

Amy's hand patted my shoulder. "Whatever comes of this, know that I did warn you." She patted me again. "You were a good friend, and I shall miss you." Pat.

I shrugged her hand off and waved it away. "Fuck off." This just set her to giggling, too. I couldn't keep the grin off my face. This was... nice. Having friends was nice.

Kinda' worried about my phone, now. This is usually when things go wrong with my day.

No, bad brain. This isn't Winslow. It's okay to be happy.

It is.

Really.

There were two more girls pointing at things now. I munched nervously at my food while Amy was busy negotiating social niceties with the girl who'd taken Vicky's seat.

Eventually it was done, and I was given my phone back, along with a slip of folded paper.

"I added a lock screen to your phone. Because you really need to lock your phone." She leaned in and whispered, "It is my birthday." She hovered ominously and tapped the paper. "Never forget my birthday." Then she hopped back and smiled brilliantly. "See you tomorrow, Tay! Toodles!"

The look of desperate alarm I shot my best friend was met with a snort and a shrug.

"Warn you, I did." She said once she'd finished chuckling.

"You really didn't." She shrugged and went back to her food while I checked the damage. I plugged in the new code- 090393- and searched through it. Photos still empty, no new apps, internet still defaults to trying to get me to set it up... I checked the contacts and sighed. Almost three dozen new numbers.

Kara's had a trio of hearts next to it.

Because of course it did.

...how did she even do that?

I spent the rest of lunch figuring out how to turn text and symbols into little faces and shapes.

---

After school, I made my way out the front doors and started to wonder what I was going to do with the rest of the day. I knew Amy was busy at the hospital, and Vicky was probably going to be there or at the college, since she seemed to plan her study days around Amy's schedule. I was starting to think I really needed to get Dinah's phone number. It was one thing to call her and see what she was up to, but an entirely different situation calling her home- the number I did have- and risk having one of the Alcotts answer and wind up having to ask if their daughter could play today.

The creep factor made me shiver, but I still couldn't help worrying about the girl.

I sent texts off to Cassie and Kara, asking if they wanted to hang out. Cass' came back quickly. A short "Sorry, busy." that rekindled the slight worry from earlier. Had she even come to school today? Thinking back to what I knew of her, I started to consider that I might not want to know whatever she was up to, today.

Kara's reply broke up my pondering, a much longer "Had plans with some girlfriends today, but you could come too, if you're interested." Except she spelled it differently and added a winky-face at the end.

After my blush receded to the point I didn't think I'd overheat, I politely declined her invitation.

That left me with not much to do for the rest of the day. I'd had a pretty easy time keeping up with my homework just taking an hour or two a night before bed to get it done, so I didn't feel a particular need to study. I didn't have any running around to do, and social activities like going to the movies were things that never appealed to me, solo.

With a shrug, I decided that falling back on training was a good option. It'd been a while since I'd sat down and practiced with my powers, anyway. I sent dad a text saying I'd be 'out late at practice' and took a bus north. The buses didn't go all the way to the Trainyard or Boat Graveyard, but they came closer to there than they did the slums to the southeast.

After I got off the bus and went a few more blocks through the progressively more dilapidated areas leading to the disused and drug-peddler-ridden areas that made up the Merchant's territory, I ducked into an alleyway, slipped on a hoodie, tied my hair back, and put on one of those spare domino masks.

Now that I thought about it, Amy didn't seem to mind that I'd basically swiped her pack of masks last night, but better to make sure. I sent her a text asking if she wanted them back.

Her reply was the text equivalent of a shrug. Then she said she'd just grab another pack from the hospital while she was there. I almost asked her about that, but hesitated. The masks were pretty cheap-looking. Sturdy synthetic fiber things with nylon cord ties and a metal loop to thread the ties through, they were obviously mass-produced. If I saw them in a store somewhere, I wouldn't be surprised if the pack was less than ten bucks. Amy probably had permission to resupply at the hospital, and even if she didn't, it was probably a case of an office worker swiping a box of paperclips from the supply closet. Sure it was illegal and someone in the company might get mad about it, but most of their co-workers either wouldn't care or did the same thing, right? Might be worth bringing up if I remembered later, but not worth potentially starting a text argument while she was working.

As I made my way to the Trainyard, aiming for one of the piles of compacted rusty traincars I'd left last time, I kept my senses peeled. While I walked, I called in three different back-alley meetings I was pretty sure were drug deals to the police using my burner phone. I was a bit surprised I didn't see any other obvious crime about, but people from this area probably preferred to mug people from the other, richer, parts of town. I'd debated just leaving the tips anonymously, but figured there wasn't any harm in admitting to being a cape who preferred not to punch people if I didn't have to. The cops seemed pleasantly surprised, since if I didn't get involved, that cleared up any jurisdiction issues that might crop up with the PRT. Nothing wrong with non-PRT cops busting up non-cape deals and such, I guess. They did tell me that if I got into a fight, it's the PRT I should call, though.

I made it through the no-longer-effective fencing surrounding most of the Trainyard, only having to walk an additional half block to find a hole through it big enough I could simply walk in. Took another five minutes to make my way to where I'd thought the pile was. It didn't look like anyone had picked through it, but I still dropped some rocks on it just to be safe.

I woke up, shaking my head to try and clear the dizziness and ringing. I was in a collapsed shed, pushing little bits of brick and sheet metal rubble off of myself. It took longer than I would've liked to remember what'd been going on, and to check my phone. With how groggy I'd been up until now, I wasn't sure how long I'd been up, but I must've been out for at least half a minute or so, maybe more. I hobbled to my feet and climbed out of the rubble. It looked like a bomb went off.

...which, yeah. That makes sense.

I felt a truck full of people coming to investigate, and was feeling considerably less merciful than I had before being exploded. I hid a little further back among the still-standing walls of one of the larger dilapidated warehouses as they got out and started checking through the wreckage. There were six guys, all of them skinny or with only a bit of paunch, and all of them armed, though I could only find guns on three of them. A couple of the gun guys had done the smart thing, waiting out in the open while their buddies tried to figure out what'd happened.

I decided to hit the watchmen first. Shooting the concrete under their feet up a couple inches made both stumble. One fell over and stayed there long enough for me to pull up slabs from either side of him and lock him down there. The other had rolled as soon as he hit the ground, so I had a rock slam into his gun hand's wrist fast enough to at least sting. I heard him yelp from where I was hiding, cradling his hand. I didn't give myself time to feel bad about hurting him, pulling the floor out from under him again. This time I caught him in the same type of 'stone tent' structure I'd trapped his friend in.

By then the rest of them had scrambled out of the rubble they were looking over, and headed back. They slowed to a stop, looking around confused, while the two on the ground shouted at them. I couldn't hear what was being said, but knew it was probably best to not give them time. I repeated my disarming trick with the one who still had a gun, and ran out from behind the corner. As I went, I had the concrete under their feet push up a little under each foot one at a time, leading them to stumbling mostly in the directions I wanted them to go. Three of them fell together in a heap, and I trapped them by making a shallow pit and rolling them into it, followed by capping it with a thick concrete slab.

The last, I kept stumbling about until I made my way to him and punched him. He fell, groaned, and shuffled on the ground, so I stacked a couple more diagonal slabs on him like the first two.

I surveyed my work, blocking out the shouting as I did so. I took a deep breath and heaved it out.

Yeah. That felt good.

With a grin, I fished my burner phone out, the cheaper system having cracked a bit in the explosion. Might need another one soon, I guess. Should also try to keep my personal phone away from fights in the future, to keep it away from potential damage. I flipped through the redial and held the phone to my ear.

"Brockton Bay Police Department." Came the voice of the same lady I'd talked to the last few times.

"Hi! It's Terraform again." I still felt a giddy thrill every time I said it. "I was looking around the Trainyard when something I was poking at exploded. I think it was a trap, since a half dozen guys showed up to investigate a few minutes later."

I'd heard typing while I talked, and the woman's tone was much more serious now. "Are you okay?"

Something in her voice made me pause. "Yeah?" I looked down to actually start checking myself for injuries. No big clothing tears, no blood I could find... I felt fine, so, "Yeah. I should be fine."

The mic picked up a small sigh of relief. "Good." A little more keyboard tapping. "Where are you, in the Trainyard?"

"Southeast part, uhh..." I looked around, and spotted the building I'd hidden in. "One of the buildings nearby says '442' on it."

"Got it." She said, tapping again. "You said there was an explosion?" I agreed. "Were there any visible tanks, maybe rusty cylinders or fire hazard signs around?" I didn't remember anything like that, and said as much. "Alright. You mentioned guys, were you in a fight?" Something about that tickled the back of my mind, but I couldn't remember what until I answered yes, and she continued with a sigh. "I've already got a team heading your way, but in the future when you get into a fight, that makes it a PRT case. Do you understand?" Her tone was firm, but it didn't sound like an admonishment. Still, I groaned.

"Yeah, I understand." I checked over the thugs again. "With everything going on, I forgot. I'm sorry."

She chuckled. "It's fine, I wish you could call us for anything, but times have changed a bit. Now, the PRT needs calling over this. Would you prefer I handle that?"

I winced. "You wouldn't mind?"

I could hear the shrug in her voice. "Part of the job."

"Alright, yeah. If you would."

A bit more keyboard clicking. "Alright, the guys I sent should be about five minutes out from you. Hang tight, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be here." I paused. "And, thank you."

"Sure thing, Terraform." I could tell she was smiling, as the call disconnected.

Now I just had to wait. I kicked some rocks around for a bit, before I decided I might as well set off any traps at the other piles I'd started last time I was here. I didn't need incredible accuracy for it at this range, just dumping more rubble onto the piles to shake them up like I had this one. A couple more went off like this one had, but the rest didn't. I'm not sure if that meant anything, but it's possible they only found or bothered with a few of them. They all seemed to kick up a bit activity, though. Usually one or two people coming to check on things before leaving.

Then my phone started to ring. When I checked it, it was a call from Dinah's folks.

Fantastic timing, that.

With a groan, I checked around. The thugs were quieter now, but not quiet. I wound up running at a wind-assisted-sprint down a few buildings, to one with a stable-looking roof. Then I scaled the side and made sure my footing was stable before I answered, about four seconds after it'd started ringing.

"Taylor!" Cheryl replied to my greeting. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm doing fine," Do I, or don't I? "but I'm a little busy. Going to need to go in a few minutes."

She chuckled. "Oh, I won't keep you. I was hoping to catch you before you made plans for the weekend. Would you be free Saturday to help Dinah again? She's been doing much better since the weekend, happier and more focused when she studies." I could hear the subtle pleading in her tone.

"Yeah, that's fine. I can drop by Saturday." There were some cars coming, probably the police.

"That's wonderful, dear. Dinah and I will be here whenever you drop by, just like last week."

A car and an SUV, both in police colors, were slowly rounding on the explosion site. "I'll be there. I've got to go, though."

"Of course dear, I'll see you then." I gave one last 'bye' before ending the call, hopping down off the building and floating to the ground on a strong burst of wind. I made my way over just as they were getting out. Four officers and a technician in a tactical vest.

I smoothed down the hair that'd frizzed a bit from the excitement, and dusted myself off. "Hi! I'm Terraform." They paused as I came up to them, then the technician headed off to the blast site and a couple officers peeled off to check the scene. "I'm sorry about calling you out here, I'm told I should've called the PRT?"

"Oh no, miss." The older one, bigger with short hair and stubble, said. "Sometimes it's nice just being remembered by the capes around here." Partly true, with hints of sarcasm not evident in his gruff voice.

"Well..." I muttered, trying to think of ways to help make their trip worth it. "I was out here to train a bit, cleaning the area up a little with my powers. This is one of the places I stopped at last time, I think they trapped it in case I came back." The younger one had a pad out now, and was writing notes. "I remember where the other places were, I could mark them if you have a map?"

The gruff one hummed and left to dig a map of the bay out of a glove box. "You think they might have tried the same thing at these other places?" He asked when he handed it over with a pen.

They both jumped when I made a small table out of the ground to write on, but didn't comment. "Yeah, I think so." I compared the map to the information from my senses a few times, before I felt confident I'd gotten them all right. "Here you go." I said as I pushed the 'table' back into the ground and handed off the map. "I hope this helps."

"Should be worth looking into, yes." There was a strong undercurrent of 'might as well, we're already here' to his words.

We exchanged introductions to pass the time, but it wasn't that long before a couple of PRT wagons rolled up. Two of the officers took off in their car, while the other two and the CSI guy waited with me. Six PRT officers and two more technicians filed out of their vehicles. After they took in the scene, the four that were obviously armed broke off to form a perimeter. One of the techs broke off to inspect the blast site, and the other followed the two storm troopers over to us.

"Terraform?" One asked through an obvious voice modulator.

"That's me." I answered. The PRT tech motioned off to the side, where the police tech followed. The pair exchanged what little data he'd gathered before the PRT showed up.

"We have some questions we'd like you to answer." From the way no one was moving to take notes, I assumed the whole thing was being recorded. I nodded for him to continue. "What happened, that lead to this confrontation?"

I rolled my eyes and relayed the story of coming to train and the explosion that followed. Partway through, the techs had finished commiserating, and the three headed out. From the way the officer was brandishing the map I'd marked, they were heading off to check the other sites. I kept going through the details of the fight, and then my call to the police.

"And why didn't you call the PRT about a conflict involving a cape?" He asked, once I'd finished. He outwardly sounded rather neutral and monotone, his body language professionally inexpressive. I could tell from my senses though, that he was irritated about the topic.

...probably best I not mention how well I can read them through all of their fancy tech and training.

"I'd already called them a few times about drug deals I'd spotted on my way here, but passed over. I don't know if the explosion rattled my brain, or I was just distracted from the fight, or whatever else, but I just hit redial instead of thinking to look for the right number." Wasn't going to make that mistake again after having it beaten into my brain so many times, today.

"Hrm." I could tell the answer wasn't a satisfactory one, but he was a little less tense about my accidental slight, at least. "We should see to the captives, then."

He led me over to the thugs, who'd already been checked and photographed by one of the techs, and checked on by the pair of troopers armed with those foam sprayers while the last two with real guns kept watch on the yard. "They're all armed, I think." Knew, rather, but they didn't have to know that. "I know that one still has a gun." I pointed out the first guy I'd caught, and he spat some derogatory words my way.

My interrogator motioned one of the foam troopers over, then had me start releasing them. None of them managed to give the armored troops more than a second's trouble before they were cuffed. Even the ones I'd piled together were handled quickly by a trooper each. While they were being boxed up in one of the transports, I headed over to one of the techs.

"Sooo... is this still a crime scene, or can I go back to practicing here when they're gone?" I asked.

The guy shrugged. "If you want to, after what happened. We have everything we needed from the scene."

"Alright, thanks." I immediately started clearing up some of the rubble from the collapsed buildings. It was interesting using the brick and concrete to manipulate the metal attached to it, and pretty soon I had some good piles going. The troopers had, of course, stuck around to film some of my training, before they packed up and headed off.

Then I got into the interesting stuff, smashing more train cars, tearing up old ruined rail, and dismantling some of the worse buildings. About an hour after I started into that, my phone went off again. This time it was Sue.

Greetings exchanged, she cut down to business. "The majority want to support cleaning up the city, and think helping a hero team do it better is a good step forward, there. A few of us aren't so sure," herself included, I knew. "but we've been doing little else but surviving for so long, even a few of the more moderate are becoming restless."

"A couple questions..." she hummed for me to continue. "What do you even want me to help you with, and..." the part I was worried about. "I'm... not sure I want to commit to much, without knowing who I'm helping. I want to meet some of them, first."

She grumbled a bit, then said, "Fair, but complicated. It's going to take a bit of work gathering together such a disparate group, most of us have day jobs, or night jobs, or other obligations..." She hummed in thought. "I can have some of us around sometime over the weekend? It might not be the showing you want, but it's what I can do on short notice."

"That's fine, I just want to put some faces to this shadowy organization I'm supposed to be helping."

She seemed to take the joke well, since she chuckled. "As to the other part, I would be happy with some warning about cape actions that might spur gang retaliation, like if a cape was captured and we could expect violence soon with an escape attempt. Maybe a word about unusual gang movements, or unusual Protectorate movements, that might mean a strike on the gangs soon. Things we can use to keep our heads down." That seemed... not so bad, actually. "The youngsters on the other hand, want to see if you can use any of our information. Hitting storehouses, cutting supply lines, gods help them maybe taking down capes." Sue hissed and I could hear rustling, she sounded incredibly unhappy. "The sorts of things that kick off the sort of violence we try to avoid. Kills people. Makes targets for the gangs." She spat. Then she sighed. "The young want change because they haven't seen what it costs, yet."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. "I'm... sorry?"

"No, child." I could tell she was shaking her head, again. "That you can have this optimism means our generation has done well enough, protecting yours. I can't blame you for dreaming. I just don't believe all of you will live to see the end of fighting for them." There was a deep sorrow to her words. Then she took a deep breath and I could hear her forcing a smile. "But, if it works? If you really can make the city better, safer, then... Maybe it will be worth it."

"I have to try." I forced more confidence than I felt, after all that.

"I know." The resignation in her tone cut deeply. "You want your meeting," She added, to change the topic. "so when did you have in mind for it?"

It was actually a bit of a relief, to move away from all that fatalism. "I've got plans Saturday, maybe Sunday?"

She hummed. "Morning might be best. Night owls not yet to bed, day workers not in yet..." She took a moment to think. "Can get at least six, maybe eight? Will have to see. How early can you manage?"

My face broke into a grin. "I rise with the sun."

"Eight, then. Gives you time to get around town, some time for the nine-to-fivers to get to work. Depends how long it goes."

"Sounds good." Plans made, the call ended.

I didn't have any more trouble from the gangs, probably because of the police and PRT sniffing around. When I thought I had one place cleared enough for now, I'd move on to a new one. This continued into the night, when I finally made my way home to tell dad about my day.