2.2

2.2

The air was tense. Shadows lounged across the newcomers, and you couldn't tell from the distance exactly who they were, although you had no frame of reference for their silhouettes. Six of them, you thought, though the one farthest in the back was hard to distinguish and could have been simply a trick of the light. You pivoted on your ankle, turning to face them fully as Glory Girl did the same.

No further sound came from them, and there was a stale silence surrounding all of you; as though whoever spoke first would be responsible for whatever came next.

And whatever that was could have been serious; though you felt fresh, Glory Girl was clearly tired from your workout and while both of the other New Wave members were close enough that they could probably make it back upon hearing the commotion of a struggle, Shielder was in dire need of rest and Manpower was far from ready for real combat; even your gentlest ministrations added up over time.

Your stance was firm, but not nearly so much as Glory Girl's. You could see, from the corner of your eyes, her nails biting into her palms with force enough to cut, and there was a barely restrained violence in her posture.

What could you do? You weren't arrogant enough to assume that you could take a group of that size in a fight without endangering either yourself or Glory Girl: you had no idea what they could do, or even who they were, other than the vague implication of their hidden forms. In vain hope, you cast out a question:

Chances that they're here to attack us?

Inconclusive.

You should have expected that: a legitimate answer was impossible to come by when you had no real clue who 'they' were. You rephrased, regretting the waste of a question.

Chances that I get in a fight in the next hour?

24%

The tension drained from you: it was enough to know that a fight wasn't destined. As long as you played your cards right, you could walk away unscathed.

Glory Girl had no such information; the way her white boots twisted in the dirt spoke to a barely restrained urge to leap forward, and you could detect in the subtle lean forward that implied her favoured leap forward; shock and awe tactics were her bread and butter, after all. If you didn't act rapidly, she would start something far worse than needed to happen.

You couldn't allow it. She was your friend, even if she was prying into dangerous territory, and allowing her to be harmed by fear or uncertainty was simply unacceptable. Even if it made you look presumptuous.

You reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. Turning to you, she had a questioning look in her eye, and though your mask covered your eyes too much the intimacy of eye contact, you gave her a reassuring nod before taking a singular step forward, towards the group.

'Hello. Are you representatives of one of the gangs in this area? Perhaps the Empire?'

Tremulous to begin with, you were able to overcome your nerves as the words carried on the air, loud enough that you were confident they would hear even from the distance, but hopefully quiet enough to avoid drawing any outside attention to those who were not already involved with the situation.

Before any words came in reply, movement; the two foremost of the group stepped forward a few paces, allowing the shadow to fall from them like a veil and settle again on their cohort.

Almost androgynous, the shorter of the two had very little flesh or face on display. Their entire body was covered in what looked to be smooth armoured plates, joined closely together, the spaces in between filled with a loose black material that seemed to have seen better days. Thin, slightly dented pauldrons covered the straps holding on the armoured jack, and straps down the stomach kept the dull metal together. The only exposed skin on their entire body was their fingers, gloves having been cut to allow the last joint of each digit to extend beyond. Across their face, a heavy welder's mask with a few deep gouges arcing along its curvature greeted the world.

To their left, a much easier identification; a large man, wearing a much less concealing costume but looking even the stranger for it. He was tall, but not incredibly so, and large; he had the frame of a wine barrel and gave off a strange glimmer where the light touched him, as though he was damp all over. It would have been the most noteworthy thing about him, if not for the fact that you could see the implication of his bones and organs inside translucent flesh; pulsing softly between the scabrous spirals lining his skin.

'Certainly not,' he said, his voice lightly accented and pleasantly soft to accompany it. 'We are currently under nobody's employ.'

'Freelancers,' the smaller one followed up, the tone of their voice firmer and much more recognisably Brockton in accent. 'We're for hire; Faultline, at your service.'

The name meant very little to you; you had seen it, if your memory served well, mentioned a few times here and there in the past but there wasn't much impetus for your to look into them, given that most of the work they had done was outside of the Bay. Glory Girl, by comparison, seemed to have much stronger opinions.

'Not with the Empire, maybe, unless they paid you. These guys are trouble, maybe not as bad as the gangs but not much better.'

You inhaled sharply. If that was true, you might have to be warier than you had initially thought; you didn't have to get in a fight for there to be trouble, and being taken aback by a group that people were apparently willing to seek out and pay for criminal activities wasn't exactly something that found its way on to your bucket list.

'That's harsh,' Faultline responded easily. 'We do what we're paid for. Is it our fault if the people who are actually willing to pay to get things done tend to be villains? Just because New Wave are happy to keep things the way they are doesn't mean that everybody is.'

The jab at New Wave irritated you, and clearly Glory Girl felt no better about it than you did. Your hand was still on her shoulder, neglected, and you felt her move forward. It was surprisingly easy for you to keep her stable, and she gave you a surprised glance, a betrayed look in her eyes.

'Not now,' you said, quietly as you could manage. 'I'll explain. I promise.'

Her brow was furrowed and you could tell she was far from placated, but you felt her forward push end.

'Why are you here, Faultline?' you asked. Amicable, amicable.

'We were just passing through – Breakdown here,' she nodded over her shoulder towards her right, 'needed some scrap and if you come searching on your own around here it's never long before someone picks a fight. Imagine our surprise when we hear some chaos going on and when we come near, we see some of the New Wave boys leaving the scene.'

As she spoke, you watched shadows moving behind her; the furthest one in the back, the one you weren't entirely sure of, seemed to be moving up the wall, and you were forced to restrain your surprise as he crawled out, hanging off the wall. He was bright orange, with wicked looking claws on his fingers and a lengthy tail, his entire height again, curling sinuously around in the air as if to counterbalance his acrobatics.

Faultline acted as though she didn't even notice the movement.

'So, we follow along to see what kind of destruction they left in their wake, and what do we find? Glory Girl and a mystery, having a heart to heart. Didn't hear much of it, but from the looks of this place you weren't fighting. What's the deal?'

The remaining tension in you bled away, and you removed your hand from Glory Girl's shoulder. Trust, but verify.

Chances that Faultline is telling the truth about this situation?

100%

Perfect.

'We were in training together. I am a relatively new parahuman to Brockton Bay. There was no fighting or chaos to speak of; the other members of New Wave were simply helping.'

As you spoke, the lizard man dropped down on the ground. He was around the same height as the larger man, and his blazing orange skin was almost difficult to look at, but he had a wolfish smile on his face that belied his reptilian form. You found yourself asking again, what had happened to them?

There had always been some conversation online about so called 'monster capes', you knew that much. If you browsed PHO, you would see them from time to time. One of them, Weld, had even achieved some regional popularity online and was working in a very public position with the Wards programme. But you had never seen one in person before, and certainly not two at the same time; what were the odds of them both grouping up together? Was Faultline another, under her costume? Was that even a costume, or was she an animated suit of armour?

Before your mind could run away with the questions, she spoke up again.

'Makes sense. Faultline here, as I said before. This,' she gestured to her side, 'is Gregor. Our friend is Newter. Your name?'

Her brusque demeanour didn't bother you too much, largely because you could sometimes be the same and you had been speaking in your feigned formal manner anyway, but you could imagine that it would rub a lot of people up the wrong way. Glory Girl was one of those people, but from what you could tell she was restraining herself admirably.

'Penumbra.'

Short and sweet.

You could tell that Faultline wasn't as appreciative of the brevity as you had been with hers. She settled on her other foot, and you were sure that it was only the mask that prevented you from hearing her sigh.

'What brought you here, Faultline?'

Exuding a confidence in your voice that you certainly didn't feel, you continued on. 'You claimed to have heard chaos; what if you had found it?'

'That's simple,' the orange one, Newter said. 'We pick up chaos all the time.'

There was a sense of amusement coming from him, as though he considered the tension of the situation something of a joke. The muscularity in his tail and its dangerous whipping said otherwise.

'We operate as mercenaries, parahumans for hire,' Gregor added. 'It can never hurt our flexibility and the range of potential contracts to have another member of the team.'

'Chaos in this part of town can mean a new tinker, or someone training their powers – like you were. Always good to get in early on potential recruits. That's how we found Spitfire, here.'

Faultline picked up from where Gregor had left off with a practice that told you they had significant experience together, negotiating and pitching themselves. For all that Faultline herself was brusque and sharp, Gregor's surprisingly soft tones were disarming in contrast to his intimidating appearance and Newter's playful attitude was excellent at breaking the ice. Between the three of them they had covered a range of expectations – the image was polished well.

As Faultline had mentioned, another character moved forwards. This time, it was much clearer who they were: wearing a red and black hazmat suit with a full hood and gas mask, they were so small that they couldn't have been any older than Shielder had been, and slightly built even at that. Head roiled at the mouth of the gas mask, leaving a haze in the air. Spitfire, indeed.

'Well move on, then.' Glory Girl spoke for the first time since being restrained. 'Penumbra has no interest in being part of your glorified gang. You made your recruitment drive, no thanks.'

Trying to keep your expression level, though it wouldn't be seen, you resisted the urge to huff at her.

She was correct that, based on her descriptions and their lack of fervent denial, you probably weren't interested in joining up with Faultline and her compatriots any time soon, but they were a significantly sized group of parahumans in your home town who weren't dedicated to crime in the same way that Lung or Kaiser were: you would have liked to keep relations at least neutral.

'I don't believe that I will be joining your group today, Faultline. Thank you for the offer.'

There, that was the same thing but without the insults or bad will.

Gregor took a step forward at that, and you winced. 24% was not zero, and you prepared yourself for the assault. The even expression on his face told you that he was no stranger to combat, though you were sceptical that he was truly prepared for the kind of impact you could dish out; there had been surprisingly little damage to the boats or ground, due to the expertise and shielding of your sparring partners, and there was no real way for Gregor to know what he was getting into.

You felt the urge to let your wings spring free, but resisted; better to keep them in reserve, just in case.

As Gregor stepped forward, you felt a strange sensation in your detection field. Rather than the burning heat of eyes on you that usually accompanied a parahuman, there was instead a freezing touch, as though a hand dipped in ice had run across your skin. You found it simultaneously less painful than the burn could sometimes be – a pain you had quickly learned to ignore – but perhaps more disturbing. The void in the back of your head must have felt a similar way, as it writhed in response to the feeling.

Before you could allow the discomfort to turn into violence, however, Gregor reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangular card of black stock, which he placed on the floor roughly twenty feet from you.

'If you change your mind,' he said, gently. 'Our card.'

With that, he retreated into the shadows, Faultline and Newter moving with him, and you watched the shapes in the gloom recede. Before long, you were sure they were gone; neither hide nor hair of them was exposed, and if they were still around, they were certainly very skilled at pretending otherwise.

'Ugh, I hate those guys.'

You turned to face her.

'You've met them before?'

'Only once, and they didn't have Spitfire with them then. They usually have another girl with them, shaker called Labyrinth, but I guess she stayed back with Breakdown. He's new too. They're sketchy, that's for sure.'

While they had appeared up front to you, and Gregor even had a kind of gentility to him, you were extremely aware that appearances could be deceiving. After all, you had something of a secret yourself.

'I'll keep that in mind,' you said, collecting the business card. Palanquin, it said, and you slipped it into your pouch at your waist. Something to look into. 'On the other hand, I think we should continue our conversation somewhere a little more private; would you like to lead the way?'

Glory Girl smiled, though there was tension in it; clearly the change of subject was not something that went unnoticed, but she was eager enough to get back to your former conversation that she wouldn't argue.

Turning on her heel, she leapt into the sky and bolted away at pace. She was ascending rapidly, and if you didn't start moving you felt as though you might lose track of her and have to send a message.

Ah, fuck it. I'm going to tell her. She deserves to know.

Wings snapped into life, their glow dull in the light of the golden hour, their buzzing almost imperceptible, until you launched off the ground with a gargantuan leap, small craters pitting the concrete you had been standing on.

Seconds later, you whizzed past her, wings beating a frantic pace, and the shocked look on her features drew an audible laugh from your chest.

You loved flying.

Settling down not too far away, at her behest, you saw the consternation on her face. She was confused, and maybe a little hurt.

The spot she had chosen was just behind a large billboard, and you supposed that it was at least partially because she wanted it to obscure the conversation, and partially because she seemed to know the area well. Maybe the kind of comfort spot a cape developed over a career far too long for their age; somewhere they knew, had an understanding of; terrain they could trust and maybe some memories to bolster their feeling of security.

The gentle concern she had displayed earlier was largely gone. She wasn't going to speak, you could tell, but was waiting for you to do so instead. Your behaviour with Faultline, fighting for politesse, had already irritated her on some level and the surprise revelation of flight had done nothing to temper her irritation.

Letting the mood stew for a moment, you contemplated how to breach it. Deciding that starting simple and shooting straight was the best option, you went with it. You couldn't sense any parahumans around, but that didn't mean there were none – Faultline had proven that – and besides, for all you knew there was a janitor's office just below the vents on the nearby rooftop, so you moved in closer to her.

'I got my powers less than six weeks ago, and I still don't really know how they work.'

Slightly stunned, her guard dropped a little and she moved towards you, sitting on the ledge beneath the supports of the billboard. You sat next to her.

'I got the wall power first, the one I showed you way back. I was stuck, needed a way out. Phased out of there and into the rest of my life, I guess. Didn't really realise there was anything unusual about it at the time. It was one power, after all, and it was useful and got me out of my situation but it didn't even seem that powerful, let alone something that I should be curious about. Beyond normal parahuman curiosity, I mean.'

She shifted towards you, and you tipped your hood back down, running your hand over your morph-mask and sighing heavily.

'Then there was another one. Then another. Seemed like every few days there was another thing I could do. Sensory field, you know about that one. Parahuman sensing, I told you about that one too. Then, apparently, super strength. I didn't have that when we first met. You were right that when I was surprised on that patrol, it was legit: probably only got it that morning. Couldn't fly then, either. I got that after picking up independent registration papers at the PRT offices the other day. Thinker power too, that's how I knew not to attack Faultline back there.'

You turned towards her, and she had a face that could be best described as ambiguous. Her cheeks were slack, as though tilted towards a stunned expression, but her jaw was set tight in opposition and you could see the intelligence at work in her eyes. She was far from stupid, even if she presented herself with a kind of levity most of the time, and there was no way she was going to let this go without some analysis.

'Not sure if it's done either. Not sure why it's working this way, or if there's a limit, or what prompts the new powers to come in. I've never even told anyone before you, cause it's. . . well, it's kinda weird, right? Nobody's powers work like that, you said it yourself – it isn't normal! I looked it up and the only stuff I could find was conspiracy theories on PHO. Other capes sometimes have more than one power, that's not that weird, but just unlocking them over time? Who even does that? The closest thing I could find was Glaistig Uaine and she steals her powers. How could I tell you that my powers are wrong like that?'

Your head hung low, chin against your chest as you felt sorry for yourself. Glaistig Uaine was not exactly an aspirational figure, and her current tenancy in the Birdcage was a testament to that.

Silence hung over the scene for a few seconds which, in their typical suspense, felt like longer. There was a storm cloud on the horizon, not atypical for Brockton Bay, but it seemed too perfect for the situation. Rustling sounds of gravel underfoot came from where Glory Girl, lost in thought, was stirring circles into the dirt with her toe.

'You know, when I triggered, I didn't know how powers worked either. Not really.'

You looked in surprise. How was that even possible, growing up with a family like hers?

'Yeah, I know. It was kind of a mixed thing like, everyone at home had powers already, or most of them anyway, and it was so normal that it seemed like it was gonna be that way forever. I got powers pretty late compared to some of the rest of the family, you know? So it was like okay, they can do this, you can't, and that's fine.'

She stood up.

'Then, you trigger and you get powers. For me, they came in all at once, but it was like a mash-up of the powers of everyone else. I could fly, like Aunt Sarah, I had super strength and kind of a forcefield, like Uncle Neil. Took us a while to figure out the aura, but I probably got that from outside the family. It was like I had a bunch of smaller powers instead of a power. Didn't fit in with Mom, cause she's got her whole energy ball thing, didn't fit in with Dad because he's all about the crowd control, and then I don't quite fit in with the cousins either. There I was, without powers, and I was the odd one out. Then I got powers, and I was the odd one out. Sometimes you can't win.'

This was not what you had been expecting. It's not like what she was saying fit your own experience perfectly – it absolutely didn't. But there was something in the way she was approaching the situation, the way her emotions seemed to resonate, that you felt close to. You definitely knew what it was like to feel like even your powers didn't help you fit in.

Taylor Hebert, can't even get powers normally.

How many times had you had that thought already?

'I know it's not the same, Penumbra. But I get it, even if it's only a little bit.'

She put her hand on your shoulder, echoing what you had done to her less than an hour earlier.

'I don't blame you for not telling me. But your powers aren't broken. They're just different. Sounds pretty useful to me, honestly, even though I get that you might not feel that way right now. Everyone who's different feels weird for a little while at least.'

Her hand dropped away and she snorted, the sound pulling your eyes back up to her face from where they had been locked on the ground.

'You know what this does mean, though?'

'What?' you asked, voice sore and thick with uncertainty.

'Means Crystal was right. You are like Eidolon.'

You tipped your head back far enough that it clanged against the metal struts of the billboard, an ominous creak coming from it and an alarmed look from Glory Girl. You barely felt it.

'I'm never getting away from that, am I?'

'Might as well put the LEDs in your mask now.'

You couldn't help but laugh. It was light and free and you felt as though you had changed a little bit, inside.

Spending another hour or so on the rooftop with Glory Girl did wonders for your emotional state. Despite knowing that, beneath the overt aggression and boisterous personality, she was smart and caring, it was another thing to see the facade she'd had against Faultline and her interlopers drop away and turn into insight on your situation.

Once she'd settled your emotions, she's moved directly into pragmatism. You, she had said, should probably tell at least some other people about it – a problem shared, she'd said, is halfway to being solved. You couldn't deny that sharing it with her had helped, so you had promised her that you'd consider telling someone else as well.

Though she hadn't pushed, she'd also brought up the PRT. Your scepticism aside, she did have a point: they were the ones most likely to know how this kind of thing could happen, and they did have the in-road to Eidolon, who she insisted was much closer to your ability than any two bit Birdcage prisoner. You couldn't be sure if she actually believed that or if she was just trying to continue the joke, but you had stopped trying to figure it out. You'd promised to think about that, too, and she had agreed to leave it for you to decide. There was all the time in the world to figure out who should and shouldn't know about your power, after all: any allies you'd make, maybe, but even certain external groups could be useful, PRT included

After uttering another promise not to tell anyone, Glory Girl had flown off and you'd followed suit, taking to the skies and heading in the general direction of home – you kept high, your silhouette purple against the growing night sky and shrouding your frame, the green glowing of the wings the only real indication of anything unusual; by the time you were close to your home, you dropped the speed massively, wings shrinking in, and arced low over the street a few blocks away. Instantly, you cast out your sensory field and cruised above the homes; it was dark enough that with the semi-blindness your power offered, the chances of anyone seeing you come in for landing were minimal, and you figured that sweeping your parahuman senses across the landscape as you grew closer to home would work as a good form of insurance.

By the time you made it home, darkness had fully fallen though it was probably not even 10 PM. You flew at the wall to the rear of your house before merging into it on contact, an interesting trick that made entering from the ground floor wall and phasing up an irrelevance due to speed and convenience. You were spat out in your bedroom and quickly got changed, before heading for a shower.

Glory Girl was right about a lot of things, you thought to yourself, and one of them was that you should tell someone else. There was an obvious candidate, and it wouldn't do to smell as though you had been working out when you told him.

Getting cleaned up, you went downstairs to find Dad still sat in front of the television, his eyes half-closed and flickering.

You contemplated leaving it for tomorrow: after all, wouldn't it be kinder to leave him? But you knew it was the voice of cowardice, and that if you didn't come out with it now, while the effect of Glory Girl's acceptance was still strong, you were likely to let it lapse.

Avoiding shaking him away, fearing putting him through the wall, you simply turned on the light and let the cheap bulb overhead bring him to consciousness.

'T-Taylor?' he asked, voice blurry with sleep.

'Hi Dad. Can you get a coffee? I need to talk to you.'

He did so, while badgering you over what could be so important, were you harmed, was there a crime, et cetera, and your constant denials of issues were clearly wearing him down. By the time he was sat at the obligatory Conversation Table, bucket of tar in hand, the effervescence of sleep had melted into a mixture of mild confusion and even milder frustration, and you could tell he was losing a little patience.

So you decided not to test it.

Skipping the sorrowful tone, you slowly detailed the same situation you had to Glory Girl: new powers, emerging one after another, seemingly randomly, with very little signal to you about their incoming until they were there. You told him about all of them; the wall merging, he knew of, but the super strength and the flight were certainly news to him, and he had smiled widely when you told him that you weren't sure what it would take to hurt you anymore. He was less pleased when you told him about being punched by a criminal and headbutting a billboard support strut.

Then you told him about Glory Girl, and what she had said. The PRT, and continued training with New Wave members.

You could tell that there was a double-edge to his expression. He was glad you were telling him, but a little hurt that you were only telling him now. After you'd already told Glory Girl, and after you'd already met up with Manpower and Shielder to train. Once you told him you'd almost met all of them, at least the kids, his mood hadn't seemed to improve at all.

Ultimately, he took it better than you had expected. Your head was growing dizzy in itself; no headache, but stress and tears had a way of drawing out fatigue from even the most energetic figures, and contrary to your seemingly tireless energy, you certainly were not that. You hadn't even really liked gym class before you started working out, though that could have been more to do with disliking being picked last and having to get changed in the same locker room with the trio than with the sports themselves.

'What do you think I should do, Dad?' you asked.

He thought for a second, chewing on nothing in his mouth as if hoping to find gold there by pure alchemical coincidence.

'I think you should keep things to yourself for now. Maybe not totally, and I could be wrong, but whenever we negotiate for contracts with the Association it can be really helpful to keep a few things to the chest until they need to be played. You don't make your first move your maximum offer or your minimum offer, because then you're trapped. Best to play with some wriggle room. It's up to you if you tell the PRT, but if you do, then just tell them what you have so far and downplay it a little bit. You don't need to say super strength, you can just say enhanced strength. Don't need to tell them you can sense parahumans, or if you do, don't need to be accurate about the range. Downplay it. Let them know enough that they don't do something stupid, but no more. That's what I'd do.'

'I'll decide tomorrow, I think. It's way too late now. Decide, submit the paperwork, and move on. Right now, I just need sleep.'

'Makes sense, but you're forgetting one thing.'

'What?'

'You owe your Dad a hug for keeping stuff from him.'

You smiled and moved around the table, letting him put you in a hug that even three weeks ago would have left you wheezing, while you loosely draped your arms around him taking care to put zero pressure anywhere. Learning with Manpower was entirely different from trusting your strength with your Dad's spinal cord, at least this early.

'Oh yeah, and you're grounded for not telling me about getting into an alley fight with Nazis.'

'That's,' you thought furiously to counter him, but could find no victory in it. 'Fair, I guess.'

'And next time I need to get a crane in to the docks to lift something, you're doing it.'

'That's not fair.'

'I know. Be grateful I'm not asking you to clear out the boat graveyard and scrub the ships with a toothbrush. When I was a kid, your grandmother would make me sand the decking and re-stain it every time I -''

'Okay Dad, I get it.'

'The story's part of the punishment'.

You did not get to bed quite as quickly as you had hoped.

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[X][ACTION]Write-in

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

In particular here, think: What do we do, if anything, about Faultline's Crew? Do we approach the PRT? Are we honest with the PRT on our independent registration forms? Any other prompts that you think should be taken?