b Taylor

Monday 7th February, Arcadia High School

The usual 'Oh-god-Monday-I-hate-school' mood wasn't as strong as usual when I made it through Arcadia's front doors. Kids were clustered together in groups, and the most popular topic I could make out was capes; the Teeth, the Merchants, the Protectorate; I heard someone on the other side of the hall mention Elpis. I managed to restrain myself from twitching.

Enhanced hearing was a mixed blessing in school. I couldn't really move my ears like Nemean's big top-of-the-head radar dishes, but I could still pick up things from all around me and focus on particular noises. I'd accidentally eavesdropped on so many conversations that I probably could have run my own gossip column.

"Hey, there's Dumbass," Firecracker pointed out. Jason from homeroom was leaning against the wall, distractedly chatting with another boy while browsing his phone. He looked up just in time to catch my glance, and rolled his eyes.

I glared back and walked faster. Ever since his dumb questions on my first day, Jason had treated me like I'd said something about his mother. To hear him tell it, I'd lashed out at him for a polite hello, and he was just popular enough that the story had started to spread. A lot of people now seemed to think of me as 'touchy', or 'bitchy' when they thought I was out of earshot.

"God, I didn't miss all this popularity contest bullshit," Anchorage grumbled. "I swear there were villain meetings that weren't so full of bitching and whining."

"That is probably because villains know they can resort to violence for an insult," Muramasa pointed out.

Vladimir made an agreeing noise. "I reckon my younger years would've been easier if I'd just knocked Seth Anderson's teeth out."

I made a left toward my locker, stepping around a couple of football players, and spotted a familiar head of scarlet hair with pencils sticking out of the bun. "Hey Frankie," I called as I closed the distance.

Frankie looked up just as she shut her locker. "Hey Taylor. Good weekend?"

"Pretty good. Got all the homework done super fast, so I hit the Market on Sunday. Got this," I held out the new hoodie I was wearing with finger and thumb.

I'd let the Butchers talk me into some retail therapy after my meeting with Panacea, and allocated each of them some cash for small purchases. Most of them had chosen samples from the various food stalls, but Nemean had insisted on some big earrings made of dark wood that I was definitely going to wear another day.

I'd vetoed the suggestions for clothing, since it was mostly spiky or skimpy or related to metal bands, and when they'd started complaining, I'd bought a lemon yellow hoodie out of spite. Far from my usual style, but it was warm and comfortable, so I'd kept it.

"Looks good on you," Frankie praised sincerely. "Really cheery, goes with your complexion. Just like my jacket fits my face." She gestured grandly to her patch-laden denim jacket, then pointed to where a couple of zits peeked through the layer of concealer on her features. "A crowded mess."

Stoneknapper chuckled. "I knew there was a reason I liked this girl."

"And it's not just because of your instincts as an 'artist', huh?" Quarrel heckled.

"Kiss my ass," Stoneknapper replied cheerily.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with either," I defended. "Actually," I took a second look at her sleeve, "did you add a new patch?"

"Yup! Grandma finished this one on Saturday." Frankie pointed to just above her elbow, where a grey rabbit in profile lay over the letters R.I.P. "In loving memory of Mr Herriman."

"Who?" I said in synch with the Butchers, taking a step toward my locker further down.

"Grandma's old rabbit. He died last summer, Grandma had me bury him in the yard, had his picture on the wall, it was a whole thing," Frankie summed up, falling into step with me. "I never liked the little guy that much, but, y'know," she shrugged expressively.

"I think so," I said as we reached my locker. "We never had pets, but I kinda get it."

Butcher's fuming impatience was like the heat off a glowing coal in the back of my mind, but he was finally holding in his usual stream of insults rather than going off on a rant about how I was wasting time making small talk and pretending to be a normal person.

"Ooh, progress," Rotter said.

"Anyway, the big topic." Frankie leaned in. "Please tell me you've heard the news about the gangs."

"Yeah?" I asked, delving into my locker for the books I needed before lunch, not trusting myself to a longer response.

"Coward," Anchorage said bitingly.

"So?" Frankie spun her hand impatiently. "Reactions, opinions? This is kind of a big deal?"

I pulled out the books, closed my locker, spun the dial, and slotted the books into my backpack, all while Frankie stood there vibrating with energy. "Okay," I said at last, breaking the suspense, "do you want my personal opinion, or do you want a really deep analysis?"

"Both, either, whatever!"

"Well, pretty much the whole city is glad that the Teeth and the Merchants are gone," I started, ignoring the Butchers' usual flare of annoyance. "Neither had much ideology, so they didn't have a lot of followers. The Merchants were just drug dealers, and the Teeth are just-"

"Mon- monstrous?" Flinch suggested.

"Violent," Needler stated.

"Predators," Nemean rumbled.

"Roving marauders," I said, ignoring their immediate complaints. "Everybody's glad to see the back of them."

"Amen," Frankie agreed, blissfully unaware of the vitriol inside my head. "We got rid of, like," she counted on her fingers, "eight villains in one night."

"What's all this 'we' business?" I said archly. "Are you going to tell me you're a hero on the side?"

"Ha ha, very funny."

"That is a terrible joke and I respect it," Firecracker admitted.

"Hey guys!" came a peppy voice and a gust of lavender scent.

"Hey Stacey," we chorused as she came up to us.

"Did you guys hear about the Teeth?" she asked excitedly.

"We were literally just talking about it," I answered.

"You're doing this to torture us, aren't you?" Bearskin demanded. "You're making us suffer through this on purpose, right?"

"Well, that's not the only reason," I said with a small smile.

"God, it's so good to have less villains for a change," Stacey said dramatically, flicking her braids over her shoulder. "I mean, we've still got way too many, but it's a start."

"Pretty sure we're still in the top 10 cape cities," Frankie pointed out.

"This is probably going to have large effects going forward," I agreed. "E88's been attacking the Teeth since they arrived, so they're probably going to try and take credit for it to boost recruitment. The ABB's harder to guess, but they'll react to the Empire for sure. And all the extras who would have joined the Merchants or stayed solo might decide to band together for safety in numbers. We might get a whole new faction in a couple of weeks."

Stacey visibly wilted at my words; Frankie nudged me with her elbow, muttering "Way to kill the mood, Tay."

"This might be an opportunity though," I added hastily, drawing on Tactical's Thinker power to analyse the situation. "The Empire's taken some damage from all the fighting, and I did hear a couple of their capes got hurt, so they probably won't be able to move right away. There might be an opening for the heroes to push back while the villains are adjusting."

"This has been your daily cape nerd forecast," Frankie said jokingly.

"You may want to downplay your knowledge of the cape scene in front of your friends," Needler suggested. "You sound suspiciously well informed right now."

I bit my tongue at her words. Infodumping about the situation in the city wasn't something anybody needed to hear from me.

Stacey was looking more cheerful though. "Yeah, that's true. Gotta keep your hopes up." She snapped her fingers. "That reminds me, I was going to ask you guys; Do you want to come over to my place for a slumber party? My parents didn't want me going out while the gangs were all," she waved her hands around frantically, "but now the Teeth are gone, they're cool with it."

I blinked, surprised. I liked Stacey, and I could certainly call her a friend, but I didn't think we were at the point of having slumber parties. That seemed more like a 'best friends forever' kind of activity.

"You're just saying that because you haven't had friends in a year," Quarrel said, harshly but not cruelly. "We get it, your Emma was a bitch."

"One betrayal does not mean that all are traitors," Muramasa agreed.

I could feel they were sincere, but I still hesitated. As I'd told the girls, there was a narrow opportunity to hit the gangs while they were adjusting. It'd be irresponsible of me to take a whole night off with no Tinker work, no patrolling, no action- not even making more silk with the black widows. My armour still needed repairs, I had a couple of new gadgets to work on-

"It's okay to-to spend time with your friends, Taylor," Flinch said kindly. "You've worked so hard. You deserve some fun."

"Sounds good to me," Frankie enthused. "We haven't done anything like that since before Christmas."

"Sweet. Taylor, how about you?" Stacey asked.

I bit my lip- then made my decision. "Uh, when? I mean, what day?"

"I was thinking Friday. We could rent a movie, get some snacks, the whole nine yards."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. I'll need to check with my dad, but that sounds fun."

"Cool." For a second, there was something searching in Stacey's expression. Then it was gone, and she was all smiles. "So! Anything fun on the weekend?"

Conversation turned to the book Stacey had finally got around to reading, Frankie's attempt to listen to all of Queen's music, and the movie I'd watched on Sunday night with Dad. The Butchers had fallen into hot debate about whether the Aleph version of The Breakfast Club was better.

Personally, I'd thought that Judd Nelson had done a better Bender than Nicolas Cage, but Dad had insisted Bet's version was superior.

As we talked, I simultaneously organised the thousands of insects within my range. The vermin were rounded up and marshalled toward the spiders, which I spread around the building in small clusters. I'd clear everything out at the end of the day, see if I could discreetly take them home. I needed more black widow silk for one project I had in mind, but I could use lesser species for the throwaway stuff like nets and cables.

One insect stood out among the rest- a spider, but one that wasn't responding to my commands. Or rather, it couldn't- its body was locked up, completely paralysed. Not entirely unusual, since plenty of bugs got disabled or hurt every day.

This one was tucked away in a warm, soft space though, and periodically a finger brushed against it. I couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"Son of a bitch," Tactical swore, speaking for the first time in hours. "It's Panacea."

"Dude, you think maybe you're being paranoid?" Stoneknapper asked.

"Oh, my mistake, it must be the other cape who goes to Arcadia with biological powers. Touch-based biological powers! I kept telling you idiots it was a bad idea to tell her anything, but you wouldn't listen!"

"Wait," Tock interrupted, "You think she's worked out how to use her power to detect us?"

"YES!" Tactical roared. "Because Taylor," he sneered my name derisively, "was stupid enough to tell one of the heroes how all our powers work, including her own! Automatic control of all insects within range! Panacea must have found the part of bug brains that light up when Taylor's controlling them."

"…well, shit," Vladimir pronounced.

"Guys, it's not a huge problem," I argued, even as I juggled a conversation about who the best guitar players were. "Panacea already knew I go to Arcadia, this doesn't change anything. It's not like she can track a block's radius with one spider."

The outer conversation was heating up as we turned to walk past the office. "Look, Brian May is good, but Eric Clapton was better than him; he didn't have Freddie on vocals to make everything sound better."

"Okay, but May built his own guitar, you can't tell me that's not cool."

Stacey held up a finger. "Are we arguing on sound or coolness? Because those are separate criteria."

Frankie blew a stray bit of hair out of her face. "Okay, fine. Jimi Hendrix is the absolute best though."

"No question- Oh, sorry," Stacey said belatedly to the small girl she'd almost bumped into. I almost walked into Stacey, too caught up in my own head to watch out.

"Oh, it's okay. Uh, actually, do you know where Mr Jackson's room is? I've got him for homeroom."

"Yeah, you just go down that way-" Stacey turned and pointed back the way we'd come, "and turn left, and it's the door next to the corkboard."

When Stacey turned, I got my first proper look at the new girl. A bag with a dozen textbooks crammed in, a puffy pink jacket, and mousy brown hair held back with sky blue pins.

My breath left me like I'd been punched in the gut. My hands curled into fists, so tight I could feel the nails dig into my skin.

Butcher snorted, then chuckled, and then burst into booming, clutching-your-belly rolling-on-the-floor laughter. "Oh this is too good!" he howled. "Whatcha gonna do now, girl? You gonna be the better person?!"

"Taylor, just get out of here and go," Flinch warned. "Just leave, that's the smart option-"

"See, the problem with being the good guy," Butcher said in a smug, unctuous voice, "is that you can't have any fun. Go on," he urged. "Hit her. You know you want to. You know she deserves it. A little bit of payback, that's all."

The Butchers shouted, demanded, cajoled and howled inside my head, but I couldn't stop staring at Madison Clements, cute as could be, chatting with my friends in my school like she hadn't spent over a year ruining my fucking life-

"-and this is Taylor- Taylor? You feeling all right?"

I unthinkingly grabbed Frankie's wrist as she reached for my shoulder, digging my thumb in between the tendons on the underside. I could feel her pulse sending her blood through her veins; I could feel how a quick twist would snap her ulna and radius like dry twigs; I could feel Dirty Rotter's power leap to my control like an eager dog, raring to be let off the leash and turn her flesh into a suppurating mass-

"Ow! Shit, Taylor, what the hell?"

Frankie's voice hit me like ice water- I let go in shock and slammed down on all the Butchers as hard as I could, forcing them into the dark in a chorus of wails.

Stacey was looking at me with confused shock. Frankie was hissing as she rubbed at her wrist.

Right in front of me, Madison stared blankly. Then her mouth twisted at the edges for a second, before turning into a concerned smile.

"Are you feeling okay, Taylor?" she asked, in a honeyed voice full of sympathy. "Are you having problems again?"

With all the Butchers down, my emotions were cooling rapidly to nothing, but I still felt a dull throb of anger at her fake kindness. "Gotta go," I grunted, stepping around all of them and bolting for the end of the hall at a fast walk.

Stacey called after me, but I just headed straight for the girl's bathroom. A quick glance with bloodsight showed nobody inside, so I shoved the door open and swung myself in front of the first sink, jamming the plug in and ramming both taps open.

I didn't take my glasses off or wait for the sink to fill- as soon as there was a depth of water in there I simply bent forward and stuck my whole head in the sink, letting the water wash over the back of my head. I let out a breath, long and slow, feeling it trickle out of my mouth in little bubbles.

One of the Butchers had read something about this, years ago. A reflex in all mammals caused the heart rate to drop in response to feeling water on the face while holding your breath, as well as a bunch of other minor effects. There was something about the spleen in there, part of the half-memory, but I didn't care to think about it.

I didn't want to think about anything at all, because then I'd get angry again.

I pulled my head out once I needed to take a breath, turning off the taps and pulling the plug out. My glasses were so wet I couldn't see myself in the mirror, and drying them on my sleeve just made them smear.

After a couple of deep breaths, I reached toward Flinch, Tock Tick, and Tactical, and pulled them up. It wasn't easy- I hadn't practiced this, and it felt more difficult. Moving the Butchers around in 'the dark' was like handling oiled balloons under water. Easy to push down, but they would eventually bob back up on their own, and getting a grip on them was a chore.

Nevertheless, I managed to bring the three of them back into the light. A subdued sense of anger came with them, but low enough for me to control.

"I'm p-proud of you, Taylor," Flinch said immediately. "You got out of a bad situation without losing con-control."

"Yyyeeah," Tock allowed, "but Madison's still in this school. You're going to need a plan for actually dealing with her."

"Plus," Tactical began in a laborious tone, "Since you TOLD PANACEA, if you cause any trouble where she can find out, she'll call the heroes down on your ass. With that full list of all our weaknesses. That you gave her-"

"Oh my god, Tac, I get it, you don't like my decision, but will you please shut up about it?" I demanded, resting my forehead against the mirror. Absently, I turned the cold tap on and put my hand under it.

Anchorage's power mainly reduced the effective mass of an object, but it also reinforced it inside and out. Applied to water, it increased surface tension to practically solid, which was how her trick of walking on water worked.

In the same way, I used her power on the water as it poured into my hand, gathering into a shapeless mass in my palm that felt more like a water balloon. When it was about the size of a softball, I turned the tap off, brought the water blob to my lips, and slurped it down in a few quick swallows.

"Okay," I said at last. "Madison's here. That's not good, but it's manageable. I'm not the same beaten down girl I used to be, and she doesn't have the other bitches backing her up. If she tries anything, I can stand up to her."

Tock Tick cleared his throat. "Listen kid, you're doing great at managing your temper, but do you really think you're going to be able to handle her without taking a swing at her?"

I paused. "I… don't know," I admitted at last.

There was another part of the problem too, one Madison couldn't know about. I'd gone along with Winslow's efforts to hide that final prank from the world because if it had got out, anybody who knew about Trigger Events would look at something like that happening within an hour's time and a block's distance of Quarrel dying, and put two and two together and come up with a witch hunt.

The warning bell for homeroom rang, so I straightened up, scrubbing at my wet hair with my sleeves to get the worst of it out.

The idea of my past intruding on the better present I was building for myself left a weight in my stomach. I felt that exposed feeling again- of being skinless, unable to withstand any irritant. And in that metaphor, Madison was a whole block of salt.

I refused to let her win though. I'd fought villains that would tear her in half with ease. I'd made new friends, I'd started talking to my dad again- hell, I was getting along with most of the Butchers!

"I'd say half," Tock estimated.

"That's being generous," Tactical jibed.

"Oh, you guys are no goddamn help," I snapped, pushing the bathroom door open.

Monday 7th February, Arcadia

"Uh, mind if I sit?"

The guys glanced up, and then Stacey immediately shuffled a foot to the left, until she bumped up against Callum.

"Bet he's okay with that," Firecracker snickered, indicating his sudden blush.

I slipped into the free spot, placing my tray of lasagna and salad down gingerly. There was an awkward silence where nobody said anything. Stacey fiddled with one of her braids, Callum scratched his neck, T lazily drummed his fingernails on the tabletop, but there were no actual words.

By now I'd let the Butchers back into the light, but with how nervous I was, I seriously considered pushing some of them down to kill my emotions a bit.

"Come on kid, you gotta say something," Stoneknapper urged, uncharacteristically serious. Usually he was one of the more laid-back Butchers, enjoying the show of my life and offering occasional suggestions in an unconcerned way. For him to be so insistent was unusual.

I cleared my throat- when everyone's heads swung toward me, I almost gave up then and there.

Still, I pushed forward. "I guess you guys want an explanation for this morning?"

"That'd be nice," Frankie said, rolling her wrist. As her sleeve rucked up, I could see a faint yellow bruise on the inside, and a wave of guilt rolled over me.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Stacey said hastily, putting her hand over mine.

"It'd be better for you to open up," Vladimir admitted. I shouldn't have been surprised by his support- growing up as a gay teenager in the late 80s did not make for a happy school experience.

I blew air through my lips and fiddled with my knife for a second. "Okay," I began, "Madison probably told you a whole mountain of bullshit."

"Yup," Frankie said casually, twirling her fork into her spaghetti. "Load of stuff about you lying for attention." She popped the spaghetti into her mouth. "Aw hat hoolfhit."

"She could at least cover her mouth," Needler complained.

"We don't believe any of that," Stacey broke in. "I mean, we've known you for weeks, and you only started acting strange when you saw Madison."

I ducked my head as a warm, embarrassed yet happy flush spread across my face. I'd wanted to believe that my friends would trust me, but I wasn't prepared for the sudden rush of affection I felt at such a simple act.

"You've got good friends," Nemean stated.

"So the new girl's covering her ass then?" T drawled. "Try to undermine Taylor's side of the story in a-" he snapped his fingers, "what's it called, it's a fallacy, ad something."

"Ad hominem," Bearskin said. I repeated it out loud, and T pointed a finger.

"That's the one."

I breathed in through my nose, and then out through my mouth. "I've got two conditions for telling you guys this. First, I don't want you guys to get involved, at least not right away. I know that sounds dumb," I added hastily as Stacey opened her mouth with an indignant expression, "but I want to at least try and stand up for myself for once. Okay?"

"What's the other condition?" Frankie asked, winding her fork into her spaghetti again.

"When we're done talking about this, we change the subject. I don't want to be talking about this all lunch."

Once everyone agreed, I took a sip of water, cleared my throat, and took the plunge.

"I was… being bullied. Back at Winslow."

Frankie slowly set her fork down and leant on her elbows.

"Madison was one of them. She never did anything physical- obviously, I've got 5 inches on her- but she'd always do something like dump pencil shavings in my hair, or steal my worksheets, or just make up dumb insults and rattle them off when I walked by. Every day."

Stacey rubbed my hand comfortingly. I twitched a finger in acknowledgement, but didn't stop talking.

"I tried asking them to stop, telling the teachers, avoiding them. Nothing worked. And then I managed to get a transfer to Arcadia after the whole thing in January, and I thought I'd never see any of them again."

Frankie laced her fingers together, rested her forehead on them, and emphatically said "Fuck."

"That to-took a lot of courage," Flinch reassured me.

"So that's why you rushed off? To get away from her?" Frankie shook her head. "That's rough."

"It's worse than that," I muttered. At her questioning look, I elaborated. "I've had a month away from those bitches, to start sorting my head out. The thing is, I'm not afraid of them anymore."

"Good for you," Callum started, before I shook my head.

"Honestly kid, I think you should just do it. Nobody's gonna miss the little streak of dog piss," Dirty Rotter said frankly. I gave him a hefty shove, too strung out to push him all the way down.

"I hate them," I admitted, surprised at how easy it was to say that. I'd disliked the Trio, certainly, but I'd never really had the energy to truly hate them at Winslow; I'd hated them like I hated a storm- something that ruined my day, without me having any way to stop it. "And I'm pretty sure if any of them started up that shit again, I wouldn't bother asking them to stop or telling a teacher. I'd just attack them on sight."

T leaned across and met my gaze with a frank expression. "Taylor, I think I speak for everyone at this table when I say that if you decided to fight them, we'd hold them down for you."

"Jesus Christ, T!" Stacey blurted as Callum burst out laughing. I couldn't stop the corners of my mouth from quirking up as the Butchers roared their approval.

"Now that's a real friend!" Anchorage cheered. "Helping you wreck someone's shit!"

"How's that saying go?" Quarrel asked. "A good friend will help you move house-"

"-A great friend will help you move a body," Stoneknapper finished with a grin.

"Thanks, guys. And I'm sorry about snapping at you, Frankie."

Frankie waved her free hand carelessly as she picked up her fork again. "No prob, just warn me if you're having a moment."

"Deal." It felt like an easy promise to make. For the first time in years I had people- actual friends- who were on my side. The whole thing felt- dreamlike, in a way.

Regardless, I wanted to hang on to these guys with everything I had. I would have said that I'd take a bullet for them, but that saying lost a lot of its impact when you were bulletproof.

"Anyway, you wanted a change of subject, right? Who's got a good one?"

"Ooh, ooh!" Callum waved his hand. "Hypothetically, if a shapeshifter copied you and tried to steal your identity, what would you say to your family to prove you're the real one?"

-----------

The Lair, The Docks

My phone started vibrating, juddering its way along the workbench. I glanced at the clock on the wall- 2.16am- then set it to speaker.

"Didn't think she'd call until morning," Firecracker said, surprised.

"Hey Spitfire," I said, turning back to the cables I was weaving together. "Didn't think you'd be up at this time of the night." I refocused on the magnifying lens I'd clipped to my glasses, and through it to the wafer thin gear I was currently grinding.

"Yeah," Spitfire said, her voice raspier than usual. "Couldn't sleep, and this motel's got no decent late-night TV. Figured I'd see what you texted me about."

"Sorry you're having trouble sleeping," I said, sending a couple of ants scurrying forward inside their compartments, and several more scurrying back. Their movements shifted the switches they were standing on, moving joint, rotator cuff, and pincer simultaneously. "I guess I'm glad I didn't wake you, at least."

"Yeah, lucky you, not having to sleep," Spitfire groused as the skeletal waldo arm bent, twisted, and closed its grippers on the next control cable I needed to install. More commands to the ants had the waldo lift the control cable and begin sliding it into the space in the weave I'd created.

Three more waldos danced over each other on the table, threading strands of steel wire into a five-by-two foot rectangle. All Tinkers had to build their own tools at some point, for the fine manipulation necessary to create the really esoteric stuff; Tock Tick had filled several tool chests with his. However, the multitasking aspect of my insect control gave me control of as many systems as I could install hair-trigger switches into. I was still clumsy with the finer movements, but I'd come a long way from the first awkward fumblings as I'd assembled the air cannon.

"You missed that," Muramasa chided. I glanced at the phone, then picked it up with my actual hand and brought it closer to me.

"Sorry, can you repeat that last bit?"

"I said," Spitfire grumbled, "What's this about? Call me when you're awake is a weird text to get. Also, have I mentioned it's weird that you use capitals and punctuation?"

"I think you might have said it before," I answered, ignoring Rotter's snickering. "Anyway, I know I said we'd take a break after the whole thing on Saturday, and I'm not going back on that, but there's some things we need to sort out."

"Shit, that's right, I forgot to split the cash with you," Spitfire exclaimed. "No worries dude, I got it safe."

"Wait," Vladimir asked, "did we just… forget about the money?"

"How'd you useless fuckers forget about the money?" Butcher demanded. "You never forget about the money!"

"Butcher, you forgot too!" Anchorage 'turned' to me. "Seriously though, kid, you gotta get the money."

"The money's part of it," I said, picking up a pair of angled tweezers, "but did you see the papers? We had our names printed."

"Yeah, am I gonna have to worry about that?" Spitfire asked. "Empire's probably still looking for me."

"Easy now," Tock Tick cautioned. "We get this wrong, the whole thing locks up."

"I know, Tock." I rolled my eyes as I picked up the ratcheting system, a disc of nested gears the size of a penny, and began connecting it to the control cable, and from there to the bottom edge of the project.

"I don't know if the Empire's going to be looking for you specifically," I admitted. "Now that your name's out, they'll probably ease off on you. Bad publicity to kill a hero the public knows about."

Bearskin had been pretty forthcoming about some of the Empire's operations. As he'd explained, the Empire's upper management tried to frame the organisation as heroes of the white race, with the actual heroes being 'misguided guardians of multiculturalism', or whatever pretentious phrasing Kaiser would trot out. That meant they tried not to cause lethal damage to heroes, to keep their image relatively presentable.

Other villains, vigilantes who hadn't made it to known status, and droves of minorities were fair game though. There was a reason why one of my practice targets had Kaiser's face on it.

"On that note," I said while I guided the connectors together and screwed them shut, "since we're semi-famous now, we need to lean into that. Reputation defines you."

"At least you can remember that," Tactical grunted. "Being well-known makes you a bigger target. Maybe a few more fights will beat some sense into you."

"We might want to think about upgrading our costumes again. I've already got some upgrades planned for my armour- functionally and aesthetically. I actually got an idea from Skidmark, if you can believe it."

"WHAT?!!" Spitfire's voice was so loud I had to take the phone away from my head for a second. "You're taking cues from Skidmark?! Why?!"

"You could have phrased that better," Needler said with a sort of prim amusement. The others were less restrained about laughing at me- Dirty Rotter would have been falling on the floor laughing if there was an actual floor in my mind.

"Not exactly," I said defensively. "Just an idea I had from the chase."

"Wait, is this like that thing you told me about where Tinkers can study powers for their tech?"

"Again, not exactly. I'll show you when I see you- I want it to be a surprise.

"At any rate, I wanted to talk about what we're doing going forward. We've got a narrow window of opportunity before the gangs shift gears. Even a couple of patrols could make a difference."

"I guess," Spitfire admitted, "but I don't want to get caught up in anything big again. I just don't know if I'm cut out for the hardcore stuff. It was bad enough seeing you all torn up…"

I frowned as she trailed off. "Hey, Spit, you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

That sounded about as sincere as my 'I'm fine' to Dad after a long day at Winslow, but I let it drop. If she was anything like me, pushing would only make her clam up.

"Okay. So I was thinking we'd just drive around a few times this week, look for some muggings to stop, stuff like that. Sound good?"

"Sure, I could go for that."

"Excellent. If you can do a meet this week, I can pick up your power-frame for some quick maintenance, and then we can go cruising around. And split the money," I added as an afterthought.

"Sure."

"Alright. I can't do Friday night, but I'm free basically the rest of the week. Or do you feel like doing something in the daytime?"

"Uh, weekend works. What are you doing Friday night anyway?"

"Personal stuff," I replied. "I don't really want to get into it. How does Saturday afternoon work for you?"

"Uh, fine, yeah. We could meet up, get lunch, then go around hero-ing?" There was a questioning, hopeful tone to her voice.

"Something like that. Anyway, I've got Tinkering to do, and you need to sleep. I'll text tomorrow to sort out the details." I hung up and put the phone down, leaning over the ratcheting system again.

"Do you think maybe you should have talked with her a little more?" Flinch suggested.

I shrugged. "It's the middle of the night, she should be sleeping. Besides, I'll talk with her plenty tomorrow."

"That's not what I meant," he countered. "She's your friend, she looks up to you, she wants to spend time with you. You don't need to be all business with her."

"I'm not all business with her," I protested, even as I wracked my brain to remember what we'd done outside of caping. Nothing came to mind.

Before Flinch could reply, Tactical hastily cut in. "Please tell me you aren't going to be stupid enough to unmask to her as well."

I hesitated. It would be the expected thing to do if we were going to keep working together. I wouldn't even have to tell her about the Butchers- we could just reveal names and faces to each other. We could hang out during the day, no costumes or disguises.

For a brief moment I wondered about possible excuses for introducing her to my Arcadia friends; asking her about her hobbies, going to movies together; maybe even slumber parties.

"I forget just what a softie you are sometimes," Firecracker teased. "G'wan, you know you wanna."

I slid a hand across the table, toward the phone. The waldos slowed their movements as I considered the possibilities.

Then I thought further ahead. When I was discovered, what would Spitfire think? Would she be scared? Angry? Disgusted at being watched through my eyes by unknown strangers? Would she have Panacea's knee-jerk opposition to me, or would I have earned her trust by that point? Would any amount of trust make up for it?

Maybe it was better to keep her at arm's length. Nothing good seemed to come out of different parts of my life mixing together- as Tactical had repeatedly pointed out.

"Christ, I'm starting to wonder if we even need to mess with you," Quarrel marvelled. "You're doing a pretty good job all by yourself."

"You've fought together. That's enough," Nemean grunted. "Stop making things complicated."

I chewed my lip for a second- a habit I'd picked up from Firecracker. Then I pushed the phone away with one finger, and finished connecting the control cable to the auger assembly. The waldos resumed their earlier pace, weaving threads over-under-over-under, then starting a new layer over that.

Maybe in time I could open up to Spitfire- when I was sure I could trust her. For now though, better to keep things professional.

Once the last screw was in position, I put my tweezers down and pushed my stool back to stand up, pushing my hands into the small of my back until the joints popped. Regeneration and pain immunity still didn't keep me from tensing up when I was hunched over a bench for hours on end.

"Come onnn," Stoneknapper wheedled. "You know you want to."

I rolled my eyes hard, but couldn't stop myself from glancing over at the far end of the warehouse. I'd pulled a lot of concrete out of the floor and moulded them into various figures from the Butcher's memories.

"I wouldn't normally agree with random smashing," Tock Tick interjected dryly, "but I think some stress relief would be good for you."

I chewed my lip again. "Yeah," I said aloud, "I guess you're right."

"Talking to yourself?" Vladimir asked with mock shock. "Careful, that's the first sign of madness."

I huffed a laugh as I pulled the lens off my glasses and crossed to the pallet where I'd stacked ingots of steel, arranged by quality. I picked up some of the crappier stuff and exerted Stoneknapper's fizzing power, forming the metal into a simple round-headed mace as I walked toward the statues.

The figures were decent replicas of their subjects- which meant they were each pretty terrifying. When the Slaughterhouse Nine had visited Brockton Bay in 1996, they'd only had a fraction of the reputation they held today, but even then they were the people that villains told scary stories about.

Needler had been Butcher then, with Firecracker as her truculent subordinate. Both of them had been among the few to meet Jack Slash's eye when he'd walked into the meeting of all the villains at Somer's Rock.

The various factions had cast their bids for the services of the Nine, and Needler had won, commanding the Nine to attack the newly installed Protectorate team in the city.

The Nine had done so- and when that was done, they'd turned on the Teeth and nearly wiped them out.

The statues were based on the memories- when several people saw the same event through the same eyes, it became very easy to remember clearly. Thus, Crimson's bulging face and swollen musculature was accurate, Nice Guy's nondescript face was as recognisable as the Stranger hadn't been, and the pretentiously intricate beard on Jack Slash's chin was millimetre-perfect.

I took a batter's stance, sucked in a breath, made a slow test swing, then pulled the mace back and swung hard. Jack Slash's smirking concrete head shattered under the blow with a thunderous crash, pieces rattling off the back wall.

My follow-up swing came down through the body as it toppled, and I kicked the one intact leg into the wall, where it snapped in two.

"That's the stuff!" Bearskin roared. "Come on, more!"

I moved toward Crimson's grotesque figure, shattering one arm at the elbow. I grabbed the severed limb as it fell, morphing it into an axe, and slammed that into his forehead. Muramasa's sharpening let it sink into the concrete like soft wood; then I twisted the axe and snapped half of his head off.

The mace became a spear at my fizzing touch, rammed through his chest; then I dug my hands into the hole and ripped him apart at the sternum, knocking his upper half to the floor. His lower half was left standing, so I simply swung a high kick into his crotch, which both shattered it and sent the rest to crash against the wall.

Nice Guy's head was twisted off, one-handed, and hurled into Muscular's rippling chest hard enough to crack both. The lack of result frustrated me, so I picked up Nice Guy by the ankles and swung him into Muscular. Both shattered on impact, which was far more satisfying.

Kaiser, Allfather and Iron Rain stood side by side, all clad in armour bedecked with blades and spikes; Kaiser still had a knife I'd thrown earlier sticking out of his eye socket. I kicked the spear into my hand and rammed it into Allfather's head, morphed the head into a barbed set of hooks, then planted one foot on his chest and yanked. Most of his head came off in pieces.

I broke the spear in two, moulded the halves into short swords, and slashed along Iron Rain's front, leaving deep gouges in her body, then rammed them forward through her. She fell back, so I shaped the swords into hooks and dragged her upright to meet a high kick that obliterated her head. Then I let her body drop to the floor and break.

Lastly, Kaiser. For him I simply shaped the steel into a fist-shaped casing around my hand, added spikes to the knuckles, and swung a haymaker into his chest. The left side of his chest was obliterated, and the rest collapsed in on itself.

I came to a halt, taking deep breaths with my hands on my knees while the Butchers whooped with exhilaration.

"YEAAH!" Stoneknapper bellowed, "THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! THAT'S MY GODDAMN POWER RIGHT THERE!"

"Oh my god, that's so much fucking fun!" Firecracker gasped. "Taylor, you gotta do that more often, holy shit!"

I huffed a laugh, infected with their good moods even as I grabbed the broom from where it leant against the wall to start sweeping all the fragments into a pile. I'd reshape them all later when I needed more target practice, or just to blow off some steam like this.

"Ha! Now aren't you glad you listened to me?" Stoneknapper asked, radiating smugness at me and the chunk of Allfather's torso I kicked into the pile.

"Yeah, okay, Knapper, you were right. This is pretty fun." I idly picked up a chunk and moulded it into a swan, then a thorny rose, then a polygonal doll, before crushing it between my palms.

"There you go. I'll make an artist out of you yet," Stoneknapper encouraged.

"I'm still not putting more ornamentation on my armour," I warned him, chasing the last bits of dust. "It'll just get crumpled up every time I'm in a fight."

"Aw, come on! You could fit so much cool stuff on there! Some knotwork engravings at least." He formed an image of my armour, the larger pieces traced with delicate overlapping patterns at the edges. A further thought filled them with gold, then with the sky blue I'd used for my arm streaks.

"Okay, that is pretty cool," I admitted, putting the broom back, "but it doesn't really fit the Greek theme. What about those square spiral things?"

"Oh my god, will you two stop?" Anchorage groaned. "It's bad enough listening to Knapper prattle on about his 'art' without you listening to him!"

"Excuse me, whose power helped make that anchor you love so much?" Stoneknapper fired back.

"Okay, both of you knock it off," I said aloud with a warning shove. "I've still got more Tinkering to do, so either say something helpful or shut up."

"It is not a matter of Tinkering, but of strategy," Muramasa intoned. "I know that Tactical would normally bring this up, but since he is sulking-"

"Eat shit."

"-that duty falls to me," Muramasa continued, not even acknowledging Tactical's retort. "Now that the Merchants are defeated, where do you intend to strike next?"

I paused, turning toward the large map of the city I'd pinned to the wall. The ocean to the east, the mountains to the west. I'd put a thin pane of glass over the map and bought some markers so I could note the current state of the gang's territories. Leaflets warning about the dangerous areas of town, printouts of villain's wiki pages, and my own ideas for how to fight them were tacked up around the map.

Empire Eighty Eight controlled a large chunk of the west and north, including the northern end of Downtown. I had their territory marked out in yellow, with a couple of important points circled. Even with Stormtiger currently locked up, they had more capes than anyone else, several of whom would be trouble for me even if I used all my powers.

I could probably take out some of their legbreakers to soften them up, but E88 had connections to white supremacist organisations across the country, and Kaiser was known to recruit from across the whole state. If I couldn't take out one of their big guns, or several weaker capes at once, they'd bounce back rapidly.

"Counterpoint, they're fucking Nazis," Quarrel said. "At least take down Alabaster."

"I will- I just want to make sure I'm hurting them as much as possible," I said diplomatically.

The Azn Bad Boys- "That is still the most ridiculous name for a gang I have ever heard," Muramasa sneered- mostly held the east, including a big chunk of the Docks, though they'd been creeping south toward Downtown ever since the Teeth had first arrived. They were outlined in red where I was certain of their presence, and some shading where I'd heard of sightings. Only two capes, but both were trouble for me. Oni Lee had incredible manoeuvrability with his teleporting, and that had always been a good counter to the Butchers.

Lung, on the other hand, was an entirely different weight class. He was almost an urban legend to villains, but everyone agreed that he grew larger and stronger with time, changing into a fiery dragon the longer he fought. Whether he'd actually gone solo against Leviathan was a matter of hot debate.

"Aw, you can take him," Butcher snickered cruelly. "Just walk right up to him and tell him off for being mean, see where that gets you!"

I shoved Butcher down into the dark with a grimace. If there was one person in the Bay the Butchers hoped to have inherit, it was Lung. For that reason, I was determined to keep my distance.

Finally, in black was a poorly defined blob that squatted in Downtown and a little to the South. Supposedly that was where Coil's organisation operated from, but they were the only gang in the city that I hadn't yet interacted with. They intrigued me- well-equipped mercenaries led by a man who never took the field himself sounded like something out of James Bond, not a typical street gang.

There were a few other marks on the map- blue circles around police stations, a double circle around the PRT building, stars over the junkyards that I knew I could scrounge materials from, the kanji for home over where the lair was, in a sort of 'you are here' way.

I chewed my lip as I stared at the map. Strength in numbers, strength in individual power, and the unknown threat.

"I'm open to suggestions," I admitted. "Rotter, don't be disgusting."

"Aw."

"The Empire will always deserve a beating," Needler voted. "And you did say you could get some interesting results from studying Cricket's power."

"Yeah, but the ABB grabs girls off the street," Nemean countered. "We find a couple of their places, get the girls out, and torch the place."

"Spitfire needs a say in this." Flinch's voice was as firm as stone. "She's a part of this too; and I am not going to let you all drag a vulnerable teenager into a fight against monsters like Hookwolf."

There was a moment of collective surprise at Flinch's steely will.

"Alright," I said before anybody else could start arguing, "all good points, but Flinch is correct. Spitfire's still green, and she really doesn't have the experience for the deep end. I'll do some scouting this week and let her choose what we do."

"Okay, but scout what?" Firecracker said. "You might have noticed it's a whole goddamn city. Lot of ground to cover."

"Coil," Tactical said immediately. "It's always the punch you don't see coming that knocks you down."

There was some arguing, some bickering and persuasion, before the Butchers reluctantly agreed to start with the unknown quantity.

"Okay." I placed a small x in the middle of Coil's territory. "Let's see what makes Coil so special."

Wednesday 9th February, Arcadia

On the whole, I enjoyed World Issues at Arcadia far more than I ever had at Winslow. Mr Gladly, or 'Mr G' as he'd insisted on being called, had been sociable and friendly; setting group work to let kids talk with their friends; setting up pop quizzes, occasionally buying snacks from the vending machine for prizes.

If I'd had the mental energy to spare, I would have despised him.

Because he wanted to be the fun teacher, he never stepped in when I was being picked on. He didn't raise his voice or hand out punishments, so the other girls did what they liked without fear of repercussions.

"About as useful as a chocolate kettle," Dirty Rotter had called him.

Arcadia's World Issues class was taught by Mr Callahan, and he was so much the opposite of Mr Gladly that I was fairly certain if the two men ever touched each other there would be some sort of explosion. Tall where Gladly was short, dark-haired and stern, always dressed in a three-piece suit; he gave me a sort of deja-vu in how he reminded me of Accord's sharply dressed Ambassadors in Boston.

Nobody could get away with dumb pranks in Mr Callahan's class. Nobody dared to even chew gum or pass notes. If we were allowed to discuss topics, it was done quietly, and you stayed on topic, or he would suddenly be looming over you with a face of steely disapproval.

There were only three problems I had. First, Panacea was in the same class, and while she hadn't shown a single reaction to my name being called in attendance, her presence left me feeling a little on edge.

Second, Madison was now in this class, which had my nerves firing in a way that was disturbingly similar to my danger sense. Luckily, she was on the other side of the classroom from me, but I kept having to disperse the clusters of spiders I kept automatically gathering in the ceiling tiles over her chair. I'd already resolved to talk to Mr Callahan about her at the end of class, in case she started trying her old tricks.

Third, and most disturbing, was that Mr Callahan resembled one of Anchorage's professors at her community college that she'd had a crush on. The first few classes I'd had with him, I'd had to keep Anchorage as far down in the dark as possible to avoid feeling second-hand attraction for him. She was better about it now, but I would have to see how things stood when he showed up.

"Hey Taylor," T said, flopping into the seat next to me. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair wasn't as styled as usual- although his eyeliner was still so sharp that he could have shaved with it.

"Hey T. Rough night?"

"Too many video games," Stoneknapper bet confidently. "Actually, why don't we get some? You could set a console up in the lair, get some good shoot-em-ups; be a great way to pass the time."

"Ooh! We could get Doom!" Firecracker said excitedly. "Been too long since we splattered some demons!"

"So you guys want to watch through a first-person perspective as I fight my way through hordes of ugly, murderous monsters using all kinds of oversized weapons?" I fought to keep a smile off my face. "I could just go out on patrol if that's what you want."

"Yeah, but you don't get to chainsaw people's heads open," Bearskin pointed out. "I miss the ultraviolence."

T shrugged expansively. "Woke up too early, wound up wasting time watching reaction videos of Uber and Leet's stuff."

"So, reaction videos of capes who imitate video games in real life. Very meta."

"Someone's being extra sarcastic today," Vladimir snickered.

T just shrugged. "How about you? Anything to complain about?"

I hesitated, eyes darting toward Madison. T followed my gaze, and his eyes widened a fraction. "Is that the girl from Winslow? With the barrettes?"

"Yup."

"Offer still stands."

Mr Callahan walked into class just as I was about to reply, and the noise dropped immediately. "Good morning. Following on from our last lesson, today we will be discussing the rise of parahumans and the effect it has had on affairs within the United States. I trust everyone has completed the homework."

A couple of people looked uneasy at that, but I'd spent an hour putting together a brief timeline of important events- Behemoth's first attack in 1992, the founding of the Slaughterhouse Nine, the founding of the Protectorate and the PRT, the construction of the Birdcage, and the NEPEA-5 bill. It was child's play for me to know what to look for- the Butchers had lived through all of it, from multiple perspectives.

"I remember when Behemoth first appeared," Needler mused. "Less than two weeks to Christmas, and then we turned on the news, and it was like the devil had crawled out of hell halfway around the world. For years after that, people would ask 'Where were you when you first heard?'"

It made me feel old, looking around the room, at these kids who'd grown up in a world with heroes and villains and monsters as a fact of life instead of comic book concepts.

"We will be discussing the most significant parahuman-related events that occurred within America. By the end of this lesson, I will expect each group to present a list of five events in descending order of importance. You may work in groups, but please keep conversation quiet and on topic. Feel free to ask me questions."

"Ooh, you jinxed it," Rotter snickered as people started shifting their tables around, moving seats to be closer to their friends. Amy moved with a boy I vaguely recognised to a table by ours, and sat down, just as Madison slid into one of the other chairs with her back to me.

"Crap," Anchorage exclaimed. "Double bitch jeopardy."

I felt something inside my chest twist itself into a knot at the sight of Madison introducing herself to Amy, who seemed nonplussed at the sudden attention from a smallish girl, neat as a pin and cute as a button.

I felt my knuckles itch as I heard Madison's voice cheerily introduce herself, utterly ignoring me, like she hadn't spent day after day clawing away at me, dripping poison in my ear-

"So what've you got in your homework?" T asked, already delving into his bag, bringing out two sheets stapled together. "I had stuff like the Protectorate 's founding, the Elite, stuff like that."

"Oh. I had pretty much the same stuff," I replied, bringing out my own homework, sneaking another glance across the aisle. Madison glanced over her shoulder at me, and gave a little wave. I clenched my knuckles so hard they cracked.

"One slap wouldn't be so bad," Quarrel suggested.

"Hey, can I sit with you guys?" An Asian boy gestured to one of the other chairs. Turning my head back felt like I was dragging it through mud, but I managed to turn back to our table. T was spreading our sheets out side by side and copying notes onto a fresh piece of paper.

"Yeah, sure," T said distractedly, waving him over with a quick glance. "Oh, Taylor, this is Koichi. Koichi, Taylor."

"S'up?" The other boy said neutrally. I gave him a nod as he sat down, vaguely eyeing his flat-top hairdo.

I heard something creak to my left, and then brown, glossy hair swooped into my vision. "Hey, sorry, can I borrow a pencil?" Madison asked chirpily, eyes sparkling with humour. "I ran out." She was leaning back in her chair, dangling across the aisle with her head almost touching the surface of my desk.

"Oh my fucking god, white girl wants to die," Anchorage exclaimed. I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying anything, and tasted warm copper as my teeth drew blood. My hands clenched on the table hard enough to make the wood creak.

"I've got a pencil," Amy said quickly, reaching forward with a 2B in hand. "Here."

Madison looked away from me. "Oh. Okay," she said in a disappointed tone, swinging her chair back onto all four legs. "Thanks."

"How come you didn't ask us first?" I heard the boy at their table ask.

"Huh. That was convenient," Tock said, surprised.

T waved his hand in front of my face. "Taylor? You alright?"

I swallowed the blood in my mouth and ran a tongue over my teeth before I opened my mouth. "Yeah. So what did you guys have?" I determinedly focused on them, not allowing my eyes to look even a little bit to the left.

Koichi and T shared a weird glance for a second before T shrugged and tapped the central sheet. "So we've got a lot of stuff that overlaps, really big things like the Protectorate, NEPEA-5, the Endbringer fights, all that stuff."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure about putting the Endbringers on mine," Koichi admitted. "I mean, nobody knows if they're connected to capes, or if they are capes, or if some crazy cape created them by accident."

"Maybe they're what happens when raw powers gain intelligence and assume physical form," T suggested. "But tons of heroes go to Endbringer fights, so it has an effect on capes."

"An effect on capes, yeah. But we're supposed to be talking about the effect capes have on society." Koichi leaned forward on his elbows, eyes brightening. "So should we count it?"

"Oh, this guy's going to be fun," Firecracker grumbled sarcastically. "Goddamn debate team material here."

"However, he makes a good point," Muramasa said thoughtfully. "The origins of the Endbringers are one of the great secrets of the world, almost certainly connected to parahuman powers in some way. What else could account for such terrible power?"

"I think we can include them," I decided, swayed by Muramasa's comment. "We could take it one degree of separation, talk about the effect of capes reacting to the Endbringers. Stuff like the Endbringer truce."

"Works for me," T said, scribbling it down. "What else have we got?"

"Professor Haywire?" Koichi asked. "I mean, the Aleph portal's pretty frigging significant."

I stared at him for a long moment- then turned my hand palm up on the table and swung it up into my forehead with a loud smack.

"How the hell did we forget Haywire?" Butcher bellowed at the rest. "The craziest Tinker of all time, and we forgot him!"

"To be fair, String Theory did threaten to blow up the moon," Tactical pointed out.

"Knock it out of orbit," Nemean corrected.

"Pardon?"

"She said she'd knock it out of orbit. Not blow it up."

"Whatever;" Stoneknapper cut in, "point is, Butcher's right-"

"Rare sentence," Flinch sniped.

"-we should have remembered Haywire. All the Aleph films we've seen over the years…"

"I completely forgot Haywire," I admitted, lowering my hand.

T snapped his fingers. "Shit, I did too."

Koichi looked at us like we'd just said the Pope was Jewish. "Seriously? How do you forget the guy who punched a hole in the universe?"

Professor Haywire was one of the most famous Tinkers to have ever walked the earth, and an inspiration for villains everywhere. His mundane operations had consisted of himself and a gang of power-suited minions raiding targets for whatever high-end materials he needed for his next project, which admittedly wasn't too different from a lot of villainous Tinkers.

What had made him special was his specialisation- that allowed him to create bullets that phased past any obstacle to hit their target, or temporarily shunt objects into a different dimension. There'd been a shock when he'd hit someone with one of the latter while in a skyscraper. The dimension the poor lab assistant had wound up in didn't have a corresponding building, so he'd come back into Earth Bet fifty stories lower and spread across several square feet.

Haywire was the only known interdimensional Tinker, and it was because of him that we knew multiverse theory was entirely accurate. Radio signals originating from another version of Earth had rocked the world back in 1987, and made Haywire a household name. A lot of the good music and films came from Earth Aleph now, since their celebrity scene had never suffered from Endbringer casualties or super-powered stalkers.

"Okay, so we definitely need him," T said, scribbling that down. "So, Protectorate founding, Haywire, NEPEA-5, I guess Behemoth attacking New York?"

A squeaky laugh from the next table over jarred me out of my thoughtful mood. My jaw clenched hard while I slowly breathed in through my nose and tried to regulate myself.

"You know she needs a beating," Butcher said. "After all the shit she did, she's got it coming-"

I shoved him down into the dark and gripped the edge of the table, focusing on the shape that Stoneknapper's power sketched out in my mind. I could see that someone had scratched letters under the rim on the other side.

When I focused hard, I realised I could read the badly spelled profanity entirely through the power-sense. Whoever Jenny Hart was, she'd really got on someone's bad side.

"Should we say something about the Tinker tech boom?" Koichi asked, pushing a printout across the table. I refocused on the conversation, feeling a bit more centred.

"I mean, that wasn't really a single event," I pointed out. "If there was one particular bit of tech we could pin down, yeah, but not all of them."

"Sure was nice to get some better computers though," Dirty Rotter pointed out. "Felt like we were living in the future for a bit."

"I'm amazed you didn't turn that into a joke about internet porn," Needler said snippily.

Rotter chuckled; a gurgling, oily sound like a clogged sink.

"And Taylor's got- the Slaughterhouse Nine?" T gave me a side-eyed look. "That's dark."

I shrugged awkwardly. "I know it's morbid, but it's significant. Horribly, horribly significant." I let go of the table's edge again and folded my hands together with a certain amount of awkwardness.

Koichi pulled a face. "Yeeeah, I guess that's true. Lemme see." T slid my sheets across for him, and he picked them up to glance at them over. "Wait, Jack Slash didn't start the Nine?"

"He didn't?" T looked up from writing.

"It's still so strange to me that kids don't know that," Vladimir said. "You'd think they'd look this sort of thing up."

"Not every kid's a disturbed whackjob like us," Quarrel replied. "You Google the Slaughterhouse Nine, your parents sit you down for a talk, or send you to a therapist."

"No, it was a guy called King- then Jack killed him and took over." I had to fight to keep the derisive tone out of my voice. Back in the day, the Butchers had tried to make a comment to Jack about how he was so unoriginal that he couldn't even start his own gang. They hadn't finished the sentence before he'd set Crimson on them.

"Yeah, Taylor's right, that's definitely a big event. We'll put that in."

The lesson continued like that for a while- Koichi turned out to actually be trying for the debate team next year, and he was happiest when he was arguing some minor detail with us. T put forward a bunch of suggestions to include, like parahumans in TV and films; unfortunately, while I agreed with him that Weld's onscreen kiss was ground-breaking, I had to dispute its importance on a national scale.

Still, the guys were both easy to talk to, and we quickly hammered out a decent list of events, along with our justifications for choosing them. Even the Butchers were kind of interested in the project, since they'd collectively lived through all of it; they remembered the voices on the radio discussing it, the fluctuations in the stock market- even the stand-up comedians who'd worked it into their routines.

The one problem was that I could still hear Madison's obnoxiously chirpy voice not three feet from me as she prattled on to Amy and whoever the boy at their table was. Even as I tried to focus on the other sounds around me, every swish of her hair sent a waft of her shampoo into my nose, and looking away from her just made me feel like she was doing something when I wasn't looking.

I knew she had to be doing something- the way she'd acted on Monday was suspicious enough, but there had to be a reason why she'd chosen to sit right across from me. She kept tilting her chair back, stretching her arms above her head, sweeping her hair back over her shoulders, constantly edging into my personal space. Nothing that I could say was intentional, to anyone that didn't know about her and me.

Mr Callahan had just given us a five-minute warning before we would have to start giving our presentations when Madison made her move. She put her hands above her head again, this time with an exaggerated sigh, straining backward until she was stretched across the aisle again. This time, the 2B pencil she held poked into my shoulder, eraser first. And then it poked me again, and again, and again, while I gritted my teeth and focused on the page in front of me.

"You can't keep ignoring the problem," Flinch told me. "If you let her get you seriously riled up, you could really lose control. It'd be better to nip this in the bud."

"Mmm. I remember when I was in school, everybody told me to ignore the assholes 'cuz they were just trying to get a reaction." Anchorage snorted. "Fat fucking loada good that did."

"Exactly," Flinch agreed. "Now you can stop her before she builds up any momentum. The teachers here seem a lot m-more on the ball."

Two sets of urges warred inside me. My old Winslow survival strategy would be to turtle up, curl in on myself and wait for them to get tired, then go home and write it in my journal. The Butcher's instincts were to deal out either a blistering insult or offhand physical force. I had to push down a couple of the Butchers to lower my emotions a bit before I could unclench my jaw and turn my head toward Madison as her pencil poked me again.

"Stop. Doing. That." I forced out. Past Madison I could see Amy watching us with a horrified expression, already halfway out of her seat. I took a deep breath and slowly nodded at her, hoping she got the message.

After a second, Amy sat back down, though still looking uneasy. I refocused on Madison, who was looking at me upside-down with a look of practiced innocence.

"Stop what?" she asked, as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "I'm just stretching my shoulders a little bit. They get so stiff in cold weather." She stretched extravagantly again, prodding me with the eraser end again.

"Stop poking me, Madison."

"Poking you? Am I doing that?"

Prod. Prod. Prod.

Prod.

I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose, then snatched the pencil out of her hands with my right. Before she could do anything in response other than a look of surprise, I shoved my left hand under the back of her chair and shoved upward.

Madison's chair rocked back onto all four legs with a loud clatter. Madison herself was thrown forward, catching herself on the table edge with her hands. She quickly scraped the hair out of her eyes and stuck her hand up with a plaintive wail. "Mr Callahan!"

"Oh you've gotta be fucking kidding me," Firecracker groaned.

The man himself looked up from the corner and made a beeline for us with a clear frown. "Miss- Clements," he said, glancing at all of us. "I heard a ruckus."

"Could you describe the ruckus, sir?" Tock quoted in his best Breakfast Club impression.

"Well, see, a naked blonde walks into a bar-" Dirty Rotter began, before I pushed him down.

"Mr Callahan, Taylor tried to knock me out of my seat!" Madison whined.

I'd barely parted my lips to start arguing and insisting and struggling to make the teacher believe that I was the victim and that I needed help, when three overlapping voices all started talking at once.

"Sir, Madison was messing-"

"Taylor asked her-"

"That's a load of-"

Mr Callahan chopped his hand through the air. "Quiet, please."

Amy, T and Koichi all subsided; the boys glanced at each other with surprised looks, while Amy shot a worried glance at me. I managed a quick nod through the squirming feeling in my stomach.

"Miss Dallon, what did you see?" I didn't miss how Madison suddenly stiffened in her chair upon hearing Amy's surname.

"Ooh, being a brat in front of the popular girl. Bad move there," Vladimir gloated.

"Madison was poking her with a pencil, and then she asked her to stop, and when Madison kept doing it, she took the pencil off her and pushed her chair back up," Amy explained in one big nervous rush.

"Mr Callahan-" Madison began.

"Not yet, Miss Clements. Mr Hirose, can you confirm this?"

"Yessir," Koichi nodded. "She," he pointed at Madison, "spent the whole lesson leaning across and stretching out and stuff, and then she started jabbing Taylor with that pencil."

"She could have hurt me!" Madison said. "What if I'd broken my neck when she pushed me?"

"I really doubt you could have broken your neck by falling out of your chair, Miss Clements." Mr Callahan rubbed at his eyes for a second before dropping his hand. "In future, if one of your classmates tells you to stop doing something, be polite and listen to them.

"Miss Hebert," he turned to me, "please let me know if someone is being aggravating to you before pushing them away. Understood?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes, Mr Callahan."

"Kinda pathetic that this is more than the Winslow teachers did," Stoneknapper drawled.

"Yep," I said distantly, still feeling off-balance. This was what I'd wanted all through Winslow- for the teachers to check, for people to speak up for me- but it felt… disorientating.

"Can I get my pencil back?" Madison asked, making grabby hands toward me. I glared at her for a moment, then past her to Amy.

"Catch."

Amy fumbled the pencil in both hands as it arced over Madison and down to her. Mr Callahan turned toward me with a frown, but I was already speaking.

"It's Amy's pencil, Madison was just borrowing it."

Mr Callahan's expression cleared. "Ah. Very well." Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked back to the front.

Madison huffed and turned away from me, and I turned back to the guys. "Thanks," I muttered quietly.

"No problem," T said, holding his fist out. I bumped mine against it with a sudden rush of gratitude.

"So what's the deal with pint-size?" Koichi asked. "You got history or something?"

"All the way back to the Dark Ages," I grumbled. "I don't wanna talk about it. Who's doing the presentation?"

Koichi read out our conclusion with a clear, even voice that got a couple of claps from Mr Callahan once he'd finished. There had been a few cringes when he got to the Nine, but our list was pretty well received.

Not that it mattered much- there was no cheap snack prize for the best project like there would have been at Winslow. It actually took a lot of pressure off, even though I'd never once cared about winning a candy bar for putting together a better argument on political repercussions overseas.

"I'm proud of you, Taylor," Flinch said sincerely. "You kept your co- cool throughout and didn't lose control. I know it wasn't easy."

"Thanks Flinch," I said as the last group sent their guy up to read their list.

Once everyone was done, Mr Callahan assigned us homework- to write one page on a societal improvement as a direct result of capes. He'd specifically ruled out any villain arrests, which removed most of the Butcher's suggestions in one fell swoop.

"Interesting question," Tactical admitted. "How do powers make the world better besides beating each other up?"

"Ah, quit getting all philosophical," Bearskin grunted. "Since when do any of us care about making the world a better place?"

The argument struck a chord with me. Almost everything capes did involved fighting each other, heroes against villains and villains against everyone. To be fair, ever since Sphere had lost his mind to the Simurgh, massive world-saving projects were a lot less commonplace, but it was still something to think about.

True, the gangs in Brockton Bay were a serious enough problem for me to devote most of my time to, but if I wanted to use my powers for good in a way that didn't give the Butchers room to influence me, finding something non-violent to do might not be such a bad idea.

"Oh jeez, I'm such a dummy." Madison's voice intruded on my thoughts again like a hacksaw against a violin. "I had a pencil the whole time. Dumb thing got stuck in my bag."

"Knock it off, Madison," Amy said tiredly, catching my gaze and rolling her eyes theatrically. I rolled mine right back.

"What, it's cute. See, it's got a little topper on it." Madison waved the star-ended pencil back and forth.

"How old is she again?" Nemean asked as I put the last of my stuff in my bag and zipped it up. I started for the door, only for Madison to step into my path.

"Hey, Taylor, I'm really sorry for being annoying earlier," Madison said sweetly, waving the pencil back and forth in front of my face. "You can have this pencil if you want, like an apology."

I made to step around her, but she moved in front of me again. "Let me go, Madison," I managed, shoving my hands into my pockets so nobody would see them curling into fists.

"Gee, Taylor, just say if you want the pencil or not. Just a simple yes or no. Yes or no. Yes or no. Yes or no," Madison repeated, waving the pencil pack and forth, pink star topper bobbing like a metronome.

"Holy crap, this is a master class on being a little bitch," Quarrel marvelled.

"Madison," I growled, my top lip curling back to show my teeth, "I'll go through you if you don't move." Bloodsight flickered in my eyes for a second, showing her as a human-shaped bag of rich red blood, heart and brain and lungs all outlined by thousands of tiny little lines. I could have just reached in and pulled something out.

"Awwwwww," Madison pouted, "that's not very-"

My hand lashed out, grabbing the stupid pencil out of her hands with crushing force and bringing it to my mouth. The silly little pink star went past my teeth, and then I clamped down and yanked on the pencil with my hand. The end snapped off with a celery-stalk crack, and I spat the lump of plastic and wood out.

The star bounced off Madison's little button nose and clattered to the floor, while I jammed the rest into my pocket. Madison blinked slowly, like her mind couldn't process what had just happened.

I shouldered past her without another word, storming out into the hallway in a fuming temper.