2.1

2.1

Wednesday, 9th February

Tired eyes blinked out as you clicked through school work. You weren't sticking to a stable curriculum like you would have been if you were still in classes and were enjoying the more laid back approach, but all you needed was the distraction. Sitting at the computer, steadily being upgraded with new parts that kept arriving in the mail, you navigated the screen as listless as a paper boat borne on the water, simply seeing where things took you without much guidance.

The night before you had maimed a man.

Sighing, you reached forward and switched the screen off, desperate to get away from the stinging glare. The face that stared back at you from the black monitor was not a welcoming one; dark, sunken eyes, red with tears and bruised with fatigue. Your skin looked drawn, as though you hadn't had enough liquid to compensate for the floodgates opening. Sleep had come to you for probably less than two hours total the previous night, and although you had been greatly energised prior to your patrol, the way it had ended sapped you.

You could hear him screaming, then wailing, a shocked and pathetic noise. Nothing had prepared you for that. Almost no force had gone into the movement, the kind of move you would make to waft away smoke or an errant fly, the kind of spasmodic action that comes from involuntary movements, and you'd done major damage. He'd live, you were sure of that, but you had no idea if they'd be able to put his arm right again.

Dad didn't know. He knew you had come home late, of course, having already been asleep on the couch when you came in – you'd left him there. He knew you hadn't slept well too, because when he left for work he caught sight of you making another trip to the bathroom. Dry heaving still hurt, despite all the toughness. He'd asked how you were and you told him that you weren't hurt, but Danny Hebert was, though many things, not a complete idiot: he'd known something was wrong and told you to spend the day resting.

How was that possible when you had seen what you had seen? Done what you had done? It was so easy as a child to watch parahumans on television, hear about their powers online so you could gossip in the playground, and buy the trading cards. My Brute beats your Brute. Gotcha.

You had never realised what that meant. None of the other kids had either, you thought. One card triumphs over the other, kids laugh, what you were really laughing at was the broken limbs in the gutter; that's what the strength meant.

Palms pressed into your eyes again, almost as hard as you could, the ache helping you stay alert. That was where a lot of the bruising had come from. Sleep was on short supply, but it wasn't as though you hadn't slept in weeks; the discolouration was just as much bruising as it was fatigue.

Was that what being a parahuman was about? Just being able to hurt people?

Of course, you were able to recognise that for what it was even as you were saying it; a vast oversimplification. Parahumans could hurt people, there was no doubt about it. You'd done it, and Glory Girl had done it. You were certain that even people like Legend, someone who was noble enough that he could call himself Legend and still garner respect, had done it at some point. But some people needed to be hurt, if only to stop them hurting others, and of course that was before you got to the good that such strength could provide: evacuations, rescues, saving lives. Earthquakes, sinking ships. Endbringers.

You shuddered as you felt the idea come to mind. Not worth thinking about. That was beyond reasonable.

What all those other heroes had, though, which evaded you, was knowledge. Knowledge of what they had. They knew what they could do, at least mostly, and they knew how to control it. You had seen Alexandria shake hands with numerous politicians and give them the firm grip they expected and none of them had recoiled with fingers twisted like bent paper-clips. Glory Girl had knocked out the other thugs on that patrol without turning their heads into pink mist. It had to be possible.

So the solution was obvious, as grim as it seemed.

Contacting Glory Girl so quickly seemed premature; uncomfortable, even. Over your meetings thus far you knew her to be a friendly, helpful person who was surprisingly smart in comparison to her peppy teenage image. But the way she had talked about your violence afterwards seemed unsettling. First time, she had said. Like it was no big deal. Like she thought a second time was inevitable.

You'd seen the discussions every now and again on the news or on PHO about Glory Girl's tendency towards over-enthusiasm on patrol, but it wasn't until now that you felt as though you had a firm understanding of exactly what that meant. Hypocrisy, you thought to yourself. Thy name is Taylor.

Still, she was the obvious solution. You knew her, she was your friend on some level, and she had experience with this. You weren't sure if you were stronger than her or not, but she was definitely strong enough that this issue must have come up before.

It was going to be too late for immediate success, already nearly 4 PM, and even if Glory Girl responded immediately you were far too tired to go out on patrol or meet up. But maybe she was free after school and could get back to you quickly.

Messages were sent out on PHO.

Penumbra: Hi, I was wondering if we could talk about last night

There was no response for a short while, and your eyes glazed over while you let your mind drift to unhappy places.

Glory Girl: Oh cool, we definitely need to talk about that too tbh

Glory Girl: It can really worry people when stuff like that first happens, so it's always better to get it off your chest

Glory Girl: If you want, I mean. Uncle Neil told me that the first time he put someone in hospital he cried and he didn't even have powers yet.

Glory Girl: Don't tell him I said that tho

Click to expand...

Your slowed mind took more than a moment to process that. She was being more sympathetic than you expected based on her initial reaction, but you could tell from the flippancy that she didn't share anything like your concern.

Penumbra: Did you have a similar experience?

Glory Girl: Honestly no tbh

Glory Girl: ngl, I've done worse by accident but they always heal up okay and it's not like they didn't deserve it.

Similar thoughts had gone through your head but you had dismissed those when they arrived. Thinking like that was a short trip away from endangering people unnecessarily.

Penumbra: I need to learn how to control it, so it doesn't happen again.

Glory Girl: definitely

Fingers moved slowly as they tapped it out. Asking for help, even though you had gotten much better at it recently, still stung the pride. There was nowhere more obvious to go, though, nothing that made more sense. Who would know better than a teenage girl Brute how to train a teenage girl Brute? Unless Alexandria was going to make a trip up from California or you were going to get a plane ticket for The Iron Maiden to come over from the UK, there was nobody else you even knew of who could have the right kind of insight.

Penumbra: I was curious as to how you trained. Would it be something I could try? If you could give some insight, that would be extremely helpful. I don't want to hurt people unless I have to.

Glory Girl: pssh, I can do better than that! Are you free later this week? I can help you 1 on 1

Click to expand...

Questions swam in your mind. You still weren't comfortable with how blasé she was about the entire situation.

And beyond that, another thought drifted. She was supposed to be invulnerable, right? But people had thought that about Alexandria too before she lost her eye.

Arrogance wasn't something you sought out, but you had to try. You couldn't forgive yourself if you took a swing at Glory Girl and promptly turned her head into a Pollock.

Chances that Glory Girl can take a full force hit from me if she prepares for it?

100%

Thank fuck.

Turning back to the screen to write an acceptance to Glory Girl's offer, you paused briefly. You couldn't help it. You had disparaged the trading cards earlier, scorning their symbolism, but you had still played with them as a kid nonetheless. The logic of the comparison was in your brain and it would take something far stronger than spite to erase it. The question came to you unbidden and you couldn't resist it. Just one. Maybe two.

Chance that I'm stronger than Alexandria?

100%

Oh god.

Chance.. . chance that I'm stronger than The Siberian?

Inconclusive.

You had no idea why that refused to work. You asked the question again, this time asking about being on the same level, but received the same result. Your head began to hurt, and it wasn't simply a tension headache from the lack of sleep. Something about the question seemed design to resist interpretation. The void in the back of your head was roiling again, the same as it had been when you got home.

What was it about The Siberian that you didn't understand?

The base of your skull throbbed in pain.

With the path towards not being a complete wrecking ball established, you moved then to the next port of call. Glory Girl had covered you, but as much as she was your friend there was no guarantee that you would always be on patrol together. In fact, given her family associations and the fact that she could easily go away for college soon, it was a much safer bet that the pairing was not one fated to stability.

Becoming registered fully as an independent, then, was important. The rules of it were fairly clear: you could essentially behave as a vigilante, but you would inform the PRT of various pieces of information that they felt were of relevance to their interests, and they would have your information on file in the event of things such as Endbringer attacks.

The suggestion of that alone was enough to make you think twice about signing up. Getting phone calls was still unusual to you, given how long you had gone without a cell phone, and the idea of getting a phone call to tell you to go fight one of those death machines sounded about as pleasant as snorting broken glass.

Despite that, you knew that there was no practical alternative. Unless you wanted to have assault charges levied against you every single time you put a thug in a headlock, it was going to be important for you to get the paperwork done.

You waited for Dad to arrive home and broached the subject to him. He was pleased to see that you had been honest with him when you had mentioned it and agreed to help you go over the paperwork. His first suggestion – to accompany you to PRT ENE offices to pick up said paperwork – was met with a blank stare. Such a look would have demonstrated your ire on any day, but with the raccoon-eyes of bruise and sleep you had donned, he gave a shrug that almost looked as though he were warding off evil spirits.

No, you were not going to the parahuman offices to get official hero paperwork with your Dad.

Might as well pin a note to the front door saying Penumbra lives here, make sure to get her while she's asleep.

Honestly, some people.

Luckily, the PRT headquarters – located near Arcadia High School – was open almost all hours. Serving as a hub for the city's heroes as well as an administrative base, there was near constant demand for its services and as such, the walls of glass panels and the glinting of blazing bright screens shone out of its front even as you arrived near 9PM. The sun was a memory, and the shadows walked long across the ground. You were able to move nearly unseen, slipping in and out of the walls and relying on the universal blanketing of your sensory field until you were nearly at the doors before dropping the powers completely and allowing yourself to fall into focus.

Inside the lobby, which opened up through automatic glass doors, there was something of a sterile, but welcoming atmosphere; the kind cultivated at a dentist's office, where they knew small children might appreciate some bright colours but were nevertheless dedicated to pulling things out of your head.

There was a bored looking woman wearing a pale shirt and a dark skirt sat behind the counter, a lanyard draped over her, and her hair pulled back in a severe bun.

She looked up, eyes suddenly growing alert as she took you in. Though you were sure she was a civilian – there was no burning sensation, as you had come to expect from parahumans – you were sure that she had some kind of experience or training for hostilities. Steel sat in her eyes and you were sure that you could make out a few scars littering her hands, even as the sparkling nail polish tried to distract your view. You saw her reach below the desk, probably to press a button. Probably letting somebody know a parahuman was in the room.

It felt absurd to be wearing your costume in such a brightly lit space. Aside from meeting Glory Girl on rooftops as the sun was dying, you had only ever worn it in the dark of your nocturnal home and the streets, where you typically attempted to manifest as infrequently as possible and use a combination of your sensory field and the natural lack of lighting to pretend you weren't there. To stand beneath the fluorescence and be observed in all your glory, you felt acutely aware of the flaws in your costume. Nothing compared to Glory Girl's neatly tailored get-up. The urge to spend that money on some upgrades to the kit burned hard in the back of your mind.

'Hello.' Good start.

'Hello, how may I help you?' Tone clinical, but polite enough.

'I am an independent parahuman, and wish to register officially with the PRT.'

Some measure of tension seemed to drain out of her.

'That shouldn't be a problem. Are you here to receive or deliver paperwork?'

'Receive, with an eye to returning later in the night.'

She nodded and turned to the side. As she did so, her hand surreptitiously dropped below the desk and seemed to press another button – probably confirming a lack of open hostility or similar. It made sense; PRT offices weren't attacked often, but it did happen. Usually when the attackers were sufficiently stupid or sufficiently powerful, and it could often be hard to know which was which until somebody was dead on one of the sides. Caution was never a bad idea.

She handed over paperwork quickly and you took it, surprised by the relatively shallowness of the stack. That said, the rules had not been extensive when you looked them up online, and both Glory Girl and Laserdream had pointed out how minimal the restrictions could actually be. Perhaps you'd be able to get through the papers in less time than you expected.

The entire process, as tense as it had seemed, had taken fewer than ten minutes. You turned to leave, ready to make your escape from the smothering exposure of the lobby, when the doors slid open in front of you and a pair walked in.

The first, a taller man in a rusty red costume in a colour that reminded you of Shadow Stalker's arrows, with a silver-trimmed helmet stood on your left. He was solidly taller than you, and his costume clung tightly to his body, hiding very little; you were not ashamed to admit that it took a split second to pull your eyes away from the tight roundness of his shoulders. He looked strong.

The second, to your right, was a somewhat less impressive physical specimen; costume an almost offensively bright white with a garish arrangement of clocks on all of the larger plates of armour, he was perhaps a little shorter than you. His voice, which was already going the moment he walked in, was an easy and light tone that seemed strange coming out of someone dressed in such combat-ready gear. If he was silent, he could have passed for someone much older; unlike the first, whose helmet showed his eyes, the white helmet of the second man encased his entire head without a single exposed surface.

That's the type of helmet I wanted!

Aegis and Clockblocker. You recognised them both; Brockton Bay Wards, Aegis was the current leader of the team. The two of them were some of the few Wards that actually had detailed PHO pages dedicated to them rather than solely a redirect to the team in general. Clockblocker, in particular, had been the source of a number of viral moments over his tenure with the Wards and was a relatively common presence on PHO himself. Aegis, on the other hand, was a little less engaged with the media but harboured a stellar reputation.

Neither of them looked particularly surprised to see you, though they did evaluate you visually in much the same way as the woman at the desk had.

'Hey there,' Aegis began.

'Hello.' You responded, unsure of how to address them. You really wanted to get out of there, before they noticed the patch on your pants, but you didn't want to be rude. Independent you may be, but a working relationship with the heroes of the city was never to be turned down.

'Loving the cape, looks good,' Clockblocker said. 'What brings you to our humble building, oh purple one?'

You leveraged a blank look in his direction.

'What Clock means, uh. . .'

'Penumbra.'

'Yes, thank you. What Clock means, Penumbra, is to ask if we can help you at all.' Aegis seemed polite and friendly, and if his mask exposed his mouth you were sure that he would have been beaming.

'I don't believe so, thank you. I was picking up some paperwork for registration, that's all.'

'Aw, not joining the Wards?' Clockblocker asked. 'Shame, since Stalker left we've only had one girl around and it's been getting kinda bro-ish, you know what I mean? Too much body spray.'

You didn't really know, and you didn't really have much of an interest in working it out. The mention of Sophia had sapped any kind of will to engage you had left.

'Unfortunately not. It was nice to meet you both, I hope you have a pleasant evening.'

You moved forward, Aegis shifting to give you passage, while Clockblocker began to call something after you – you were not in a particularly good mood for listening, however, and his mask muffled his speech just enough for you to pretend that you weren't simply being ignorant.

The night welcomed you back into its embrace, and you felt heat on your cheeks from an irritated flush. As awkward a situation as it was, being reminded of Sophia was the last thing you needed. All that could make the situation better was escape, and so you ran. Walls were occasionally ducked through, but for the most part you didn't even waste the time; phasing was for stealthy, and you had just been seen in perfect lightning by at least three people, all employed by the PRT, and they knew you were registering: stealth was not the point. All that mattered was speed.

You picked up the pace, and as you did you could feel the churning of the void again, the same feeling you had felt the previous night, and you seized hold of it. For all the trouble it had caused, that sensation had been your liberation from Sophia and Winslow, the catalyst for your improved relationship with Dad, the beginning of your friendship with Glory Girl; you trusted it, for better or worse.

Bursting forward with more speed, you could feel an awkward tension across your upper back – centred along your spine, higher up than felt comfortable; somewhere between the tops of your shoulder blades. You didn't resist it: nothing it had done so far had hurt you. Everything had helped.

You became dimly aware, as the sensation grew, of a quiet buzzing sound and a gentle tugging at your back, as though a phantom hand was pinching the skin. There was no real force to it, but you couldn't ignore it. The buzzing began to grow, and in the peripheries of your vision you saw a glimmer of pale green light.

Trusting it, trusting the urge it gave you, you fell forward; and took to the skies. Speed took you, then, and home could not be far away.

Friday, 11th February

The boat graveyard was quiet.

You hadn't been there for years, not since you had been a child and the graveyard still had its mourners. Now, it had been long abandoned and everyone associated it with gang activity, cape activity, and occasionally the two combined in a bloodsoaked simultaneity.

Glory Girl had suggested it as the location for your training; apparently it was where she had done some of her initial work when her powers came through, as there was a significant quantity of tough material and very little life to be damaged.

You had made your way on foot, using your usual method. Though the flight from the PRT offices had been exhilarating, and you were almost bubbling with excitement once the realisation had settled upon you, you knew that it was best to keep it under wraps for now. Glory Girl had very, very good reasons to believe that you were ground-bound and if you suddenly began zipping around the atmosphere alongside her, her already brewing questions were probably going to spill over. All you could really hope was that nobody had seen you that night, or if they had, that they hadn't really bothered to speak about it. After all; Brockton Bay had capes who could fly. Why bring up the obvious?

Convincing yourself of that was much easier than it probably should have been. Hope would be a fine thing, every now and again.

The next day had passed and you had spent parts of it inspecting the paperwork, hitting the internet to look things up, and consulting with Dad once he had returned from work. As essentially the engine behind the DWA, he had more than enough experience with at least basic contractual laws to read it over and guarantee they weren't absolutely screwing you. Confirmation of that had come quickly: Dad was pretty sure that they weren't asking for more than you thought.

Unfortunately, the problem with that was the same as the problem with Glory Girl: what to actually tell them? They wanted a comprehensively, though terse and brief, list of your primary powers and you weren't sure how much to give. You could fly, but could you tell them that and not Glory Girl? You were tough, and strong, but even you hadn't yet worked out how tough or how strong, other than 'more than Alexandria', which seemed an awfully braggadocios thing to put on a registration form. You could sense other parahumans, which seemed as though it would make a lot of people fairly angry on its own, and you could manipulate senses and merge with architecture. That short list on its own made you more versatile than any other cape you knew of, and it was hardly as if you could guarantee that those would be the end of it; after all, you had been yearning for flight less than a week ago and it had arrived summarily.

Better to wait until you could think on it to make a decision. Even Dad didn't really know what your powers were, it was hardly something you were rushing to tell strangers.

Feet, therefore, were on the ground when Glory Girl appeared on the horizon. She was not alone, though her companions were not quite so majestic; the first, another flier, was not much faster in the sky than you would have been jogging, and the other – as grounded as yourself – was speedy but unremarkable in his approach. Other than the fact that he made even your lanky father look tiny. He must have been close to seven feet tall, if not there in truth.

As they came even closer and blue hair became apparent – not just a blue helmet, as you had thought – and the firm helmet of hair products followed on foot, you realised who you were looking at; Shielder and Manpower, fellow members of New Wave. Glory Girl had brought the full backup.

'Hey!'

Her voice carried even as she touched down nearby.

'Thought we could use a little bit of help; Uncle Neil helped me a lot when I was getting to grips with punching stuff, and Eric's shields are pretty intense.'

Uncle Neil rolled his eyes and rested his weight back on his heels.

'Nice to meet you, Penumbra. Glory Girl has told Shielder and I all about you; don't worry too much. Learning how to hit stuff can be a little harder than you might think.'

His smile was almost too bright, as though he was wearing veneers, and between that and his unmoving hair there was an almost unnatural quality about him. Larger than life, not just large, and you could almost imagine him on posters hung up in bedrooms around the nation. Come to think of it, you thought vaguely that you had seen him on posters before, though you had never bought one; that was the power of merchandising.

Now that you knew what you were in for, it made much more sense. Quickly, so as not to distract from the meeting too much, you fired off some questions in expanse of your thought.

Chances I can work with Manpower without hurting him as long as I'm kinda gentle?

89%

Much better than expected. Combined with the knowledge that Glory Girl could definitely take some shots, as long as you were giving her the opportunity to prep between each one, you could feel an unresolved tension that had lingered begin to melt away. The sound of the man's wailing had haunted you since you first heard it, and while it had yet to go away, the reassurance that you could make progress felt as though you had placed earplugs in. The noise was still there, just distant.

'Thank you all for coming. Can I ask what kind of things we should expect to be doing?'

Glory Girl took the lead again, expounding the virtues of Uncl- Manpower's training. Apparently he was extremely tough, or at least could be, and had some training in practical martial arts as well that helped him maximise those skills in self defense.

You felt a pang of jealousy; you still hadn't attended a single one of those classes you had booked – worry about the well-being of their students, walls, and floors had held you back.

Quickly you went through a series of plans.

Firstly, you were to simply attempt a completely abstract attack, at full force, on the strongest shield that Shielder could conjure. According to Glory Girl, he was the strongest barrier maker in New Wave and could make barriers that even she couldn't overcome in a single strike. Seeing how much it took for you to deconstruct it would give a potential frame of reference to her own powers.

Then, you would attempt the same on Glory Girl, pulling your punch so that she could gauge your strength. Had you not already asked yourself the question regarding her power, you would have worried for her; partly for her safety, but also partly from her ego. Who would trust their invulnerability that much? Nevertheless, you had the reassurance that she would be alright and any attempt to assuage her punch-pulling concerns would have brought about questions that you would rather not answer. And so, you kept quiet.

Finally, you would work with Manpower for a little while. He would use the intervening time to evaluate you from an outside, experienced perspective, and gather his own strength; while he didn't necessarily need to, Glory Girl explained that charging up his electro-magnetic resonance allowed for even stronger results.

Put at ease by the apparent confidence she had in her plan and her team's routine, you nodded.

'That all seems sensible to me.'

'Glad you think so, Penny.' Eric remarked.

Your head spun around at maximum speed. Only when you fixed him with a glare did you realise how young he looked. He couldn't have been older than around 13, based on his soft jawline, and a pang of sympathy hit you. He'd been out as a cape doing things, admittedly exclusively with backup, for years already. Someone his age could not have possibly built up any kind of reference to a normal life. The irritation drained out of you and you turned your head away again.

'Penumbra, thank you.'

He laughed quietly, and moved over to establish a shield in an area of the graveyard that had no detritus around for a few dozen feet. A pure dome of blue began to come from the ground, just to his left; it grew deeper in colour as time went, and after roughly a minute it was almost opaque with its density. You could feel a warm thrumming come off it, a strange sensation that was neither hot nor cold.

'Ready when you are.' He said, a strain clearly in his voice.

You wasted no time and approached, cocking back your arm. Here it went; the first time you had ever thrown something full force like this. Exhaling, you launched your fist into the barrier and watched it shatter immediately, before you even felt it contact your skin; the boom of air it let off swept around the perimeter of the barrier even as it fell away, blowing dust from the ground into the air and obscuring your vision slightly. Part of you, a hyperbolic part that you were sure usually didn't show up, felt like you could hear the tinkling of glass.

The air took a few moments to settle. Grey dust coated everyone's clothing and costumes, placing a ghostly pall over the proceedings. Glory Girl was openly shocked, and even Manpower's eyebrows had merged with his utterly immovable hair.

'I see.'

Everyone did.

'Looks like we have a lot to work on.'

The time passed quickly, and it only became more evident the scale of your problem.

Your questions hadn't been wrong: Glory Girl could take a hit, but it took her almost a full ten seconds to recover her invulnerability afterwards, something she had explained had never happened before; usually such a recovery time represented taking a beam weapon, not just a punch.

Nothing Shielder could conjure represented much of a barrier, and he was left panting and sweating after only a handful of attempts.

Manpower, however, was altogether more game. While you were forced to exert the lightest pressure you possibly could, feeling almost as though you were mocking him with your sensitivity, and his electromagnetic shielding crackled and fizzed each time you made contact, he was able to guide you through a few minutes of movement, correcting your basic movements and explaining how and where you could pull back certain movements to give out power.

Most martial arts, he told you, would teach you all about planting your feet for power, turning your hips into strikes, allowing strength to build from the ground up, et cetera.

His view was that this was entirely counterproductive for people in your position. Those techniques were sensible and good to know – he too, suggested training in them, once you had worked on controlling yourself a few more times and felt comfortable. But for someone with your strength, it would be both safety for the recipients, and more difficult for others to try to counter, if you fought like someone who was, frankly, weird.

Arm punches, backhands, open palms, throwing shots off balance, with no base, while moving backwards, all with the lightest possible touch, was just enough to ward off essentially anyone other than another high level Brute without running nearly so much a risk of maiming them.

As he spoke, you couldn't help but realise that Glory Girl followed almost none of these suggestions.

Things settled up and you arranged to meet again the next week; Shielder's presence, though fun and suggestive of a good mascot for the unit, would not continue as it was apparent that his shields were of no major use, much to his chagrin. Glory Girl and Manpower, on the other hand, would be more available, though schedules were still open to being modified.

'Keep in touch,' Manpower had explained. 'Just in case things crop up.'

'I will, thank you, sir.'

'Stay safe.'

As they turned, Glory Girl waved to them to go on without her.

'You guys head off, I'll catch up. Just need to talk to Penumbra about something.'

They didn't protest, and made their way off, apparently no more concerned about the boat graveyard's negative reputation than I had been while arriving alone.

Curious as to what Glory Girl had to say, I turned to her. She seemed a little worse for wear – her hair had come somewhat loose of her tiara, and there were a few scuff marks on her otherwise pristine costume, but her heavy breathing spoke more than anything of her exertion. It made you feel bad that you weren't even really sweating much. You were suddenly grateful for how much she had been willing to go out of her way to help you.

'What did you need to talk about?'

Breathing out heavily, she took a moment to collect herself.

'Look, I didn't want to bring this up last time we were out, because I could tell you were upset,' she started, in a lowered tone which bade extremely unwell. You tensed slightly at the shoulders, the training session now representing a brief interlude between two periods of unhealthy spinal stress. 'But I know something's got to be weird. I saw your body language when you hit that guy. The mask blocked the face, but everything else was right there – you were as shocked as he was. There's a difference between first time seeing it, and first time even knowing it existed. I've been there, remember?'

Blood drained out of your face.

'I'm not trying to put any pressure on you, and I'm not judging you. Capes keep stuff to themselves, I get it. Eric doesn't go around telling people he's slow in the air.'

You certainly felt judged, and from the look on her face she realised exactly the thoughts going through your mind.

'Please, just hear me out. You've been a cape for a little while, right? We've been talking. If that was the first time you ever noticed you were strong, then there's no way you always had it. I go to undergrad classes in Parahuman Studies sometimes, and it's 101, people don't just get new powers. I thought maybe you were a grab-bag at first, from the sensor stuff and the wall stuff, but super strength? And this kind of super strength? It isn't normal, Penumbra.'

A spike of anger ran through your mind. Not normal. And who was she to decide that?

You pushed it down. After all, hadn't you said the same thing to yourself half a dozen times? You could hardly get mad at her for not being stupid. Someone was going to notice someday and you had spent weeks meeting up with her before today. You tried to count backwards from ten to keep your calm.

'Are you okay, Penumbra?' Glory Girl – no, Victoria asked. 'Do you need help with anything? You can talk to me, you know?'

Shivers went down your neck as you braced yourself.

What could you say? The words weren't obvious at all.

Thoughts were swimming around in your head like flies around a carcass. Every explanation you came up with felt like a betrayal of her trust in you, but you hadn't wanted to spill everything to anyone, especially not so soon. You had barely been a parahuman a month!

The warmth in the air and the scent of the sea somehow felt stifling instead of pleasant. The cloth mask to your face no longer felt like a shield but a cage. Even the cape was heavy on your shoulders and you considered springing wings and running, but dismissed it immediately: that wouldn't exactly help matters.

She reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. She looked up at you, and you again noted that she was a little shorter than you. Her lips parted to speak, and before she could get the words out there was a clearing of the throat from behind you both.

You spun around and there, just beyond the range of your sensing, was a small group clustered in the shadows.

You were not alone.

Actions:

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[X][ACTION]Write-in

What do we do next? How do we pursue our goals?

In particular here, think: how to we respond to the unknown group, with aggression, caution, or confidence?

Assuming all goes well with them, what do we tell Glory Girl? What do we tell the PR