"We're here."
Dad's voice hooked me out of counting sparks inside my skull. I blinked, took a breath. Swallowed down the part of me that was still logging synapse firings, calculating calorie burn, mapping the chemical composition of my own saliva because my mouth was watering at yet another daydream of chocolate.
The engine died. I turned my head to look out of the window.
The PRT headquarters waited outside. They looked exactly like I imagined: a government building with delusions of grandeur, but settling for functionality instead. A single shield logo was stamped above the entrance like a warning rather than a welcome and practically all the windows were barred.
Civilians streamed past like it was just another office building, which, fair, it kind of was. Or maybe I was just expecting a bit more of super in the literal superhero headquarters.
The suited agents moving in and out of the place seemed to take themselves more seriously. Some carried stacks of papers, others ultra-reinforced suitcases that tried too hard to look normal, and their movements reminded me of a colony of ants.
I tilted my sunglasses down, glanced at the place with my Eyes.
I could go deeper. Dismantle the entire thing floor by floor, beam by beam, count the screws and follow the seams. Maybe even map every weapon, every agent, every weird electromagnetic fluctuation that reminded me just a little too much of cursed energy for comfort.
I didn't.
Where was the fun in knowing all the answers on arrival?
I blinked again.
The overlay receded fully. My new sunglasses helped, and so did deciding not to care.
"…Yeah. We're here," I finally said, exactly two seconds point seven after Dad spoke. "Kinda underwhelming, innit? I thought there'd be more… colors. Spandex. A billboard saying 'superheroes inside, inquire at front desk'. Maybe a dramatic cape flutter."
Dad chuckled quietly. He adjusted his glasses on his nose.
"Was expecting something flashy myself," he admitted. "Not sure if this is better. Or scarier."
"Scarier how?" I tilted my head, smirking at him. "Looks like the kinda place that files you to death."
I unlocked my seatbelt. Then I popped the passenger door open and stepped outside, feeling the fresh air wash over me. I held tight onto the large brown envelope in my hand as I closed the door again. My Ward papers were inside.
Dad stepped out a second later. I turned to him and smiled from above the roof of the car.
"If they ask for one more signature," I started, waving the envelope at him, "I'm defecting on the spot. Criminals have a better retirement plan anyway. 'Sides, black would look good on me!"
He walked around the car and fell on step with me. He was smiling too.
"I envy you a little," he said. "Up till now it felt like I was dropping you off at school. I'm still having trouble with this whole 'my daughter has powers' thing. And you're also going to be a hero… but you seem okay with it."
He glanced at me.
"Are you?"
I shrugged, swung the envelope back and forth in my hand. It caught my thigh a few times and folded a little in turn. I didn't flatten it back.
"I meaaaaan," I dragged, watching a pair of agents pass us, their steps timed without looking at each other. "Turning into a milk-white human glowstick was real not-okay. Definitely not getting five-stars in the dramatic backstory ranking. But, Dad, don't you see?"
I grinned at him.
"The government's gonna pay me, Dad!" I said. "For existing! That's like, I dunno, communism, but way cooler."
Dad laughed. Then, he reached out and ruffled my short hair. His hand knew exactly how much pressure to use, gentle enough that my sensitive skin didn't scream, firm enough that it still felt like him. I leaned into it.
"That sounds more like nepotism," he said, "but sure, let's go with that."
He kept his hand on my head as we walked.
"Your mom would…" he started, cutting himself off. He was still smiling. "…She'd have opinions about this."
I snorted. "Yeah, duh, she'd think I'm ultra super cool now. Probably say something like, uh, 'slay queen!' and I'd be like, 'yas queen~' and then I'd be slayin' all over the place."
Dad shook his head.
"She would probably have a thing or two to say about taking things seriously," he said. "But she'd also say your priorities are exactly right. Money's always good, provided you're safe, of course."
I gave him a side-glance.
"Get real, old man," I teased. "Mom would encourage my new chaotic-good persona, money or not… h-hey!"
He patted my head harder.
"What's that, you brat?" he said. "You call your father 'old man'? That's not gonna fly by me, young lady."
I giggled. Pawed at his hand without real strength, trying to pry him off.
"Hahaha! Yeah, I said it! You, haha, you older than dirt – ow!"
He flicked the side of my head, gently. I clutched my temple like a dying actress.
"Assault! Right in front of a government building!" I giggled. "This counts as workplace harassment! I'mma put it on my hero paperwork, Dad. You leave me no choice."
We grinned at each other. Then I breathed as we approached close enough that the door reflected us back: a man pretending not to worry, and a girl pretending not to notice.
"Alright," I said. "Let's not keep the government dudes waiting. Or, counterpoint, we do, and time how long it takes for one of them to combust. For science!"
"Tempting," he said, stepping forward anyway. "But I've got work to do, Taylor. We'll go in, see how things feel, and then I'll head out. As long as nothing's funny."
I kept smiling at him, even if his words sat wrong in my mind.
'Funny'.
Right.
I stared up at the PRT building and fought down a grimace.
Jujutsu society had a millennium-long tradition of being 'funny'. The upper echelons of sorcery, the elders, they loved their rules. They did things 'by the book', which meant committing whatever atrocities necessary so long as they kept Japan relatively stable, the clans in power, and curses contained.
On paper, it looked like protection. Keeping the people safe from things that lurked in shadows and fed on negativity.
In practice, it meant sending children to die so that wrinkly old bastards could sleep easy another night.
Exorcism was, by definition, an unwinnable war. Kill a curse in Yokohama, and ten more will pop up in Nagoya. Exterminate a special-grade in Osaka, and a vengeful spirit will reappear in Kyoto. Curses weren't weekend-cartoon villains as much as they were literal manifestations of evil. How did you even destroy 'evil', if it came from humans? How were sorcerers supposed to win if the enemy came from the same people they were supposed to protect?
It was an uncomfortable truth. Most sorcerers came to terms with it, and those who didn't probably died before realizing the game was rigged from the start. There was no place for a positive outlook because, honestly, there just wasn't.
Not even for me.
Sometimes it was veterans who went and died without ceremony, but they knew the risks going in. Adults seldom complained about a shitty death.
Most of the times, though, it was kids. Kids who'd been struggling with math homework that morning, or trying to work up the courage to talk to their crush, or were just excited about the new game at the arcade. Kids who got handed a mission and told it was their duty… and then never came back.
I'd seen what 'by the book' could look like when the book was written by people who never bled for it.
Death wishes handed down like errands. Names crossed out when an exorcism took an hour too long. Gilded rooms where decisions were made and lives were wasted at the raise of a hand and a nod of the head.
And when things went wrong?
There was always someone to call.
'Oh, Gojo, deal with that special grade, please, with a cherry on top. Oh Gojo, that barrier needs dispelling and we'd rather not get our hands dirty. Oh, Gojo, we've already lost five sorcerers to this curse. Mind making it six if you can't handle it?'
I'd been their errand boy, once. The invincible cleanup crew with Limitless and the Six Eyes.
Then I'd flipped and they couldn't hide how much they wanted me dead.
I didn't really mind. The feeling had been mutual.
The PRT, though?
First impressions didn't scream 'pompous elders in fancy robes'. They weren't that kind of shady. They were a public organization, not a congregation of ancient families playing god. In theory, they should've been accountable. And from the way Miss Militia and Armsmaster had basically called me an idiot for having fun with my power, I got the feeling nobody here wanted teens fixing adult problems.
I liked that.
Still… I couldn't help wondering.
They had Wards. Teen heroes.
You didn't recruit superhuman teens unless you planned to use them somewhere, sometime, somehow.
Would 'training' turn into 'go and die'? Would they pretend kids were expendable while calling it an 'honor'?
There was only one way to find out. And, hey, if I didn't like their answer… I'd make sure they hated mine.
I reached over and tugged lightly at Dad's sleeve, pulling his attention back to me.
"Relax, Dad~" I grinned, tipping my sunglasses just enough to peek over the edge. "Nobody's beating me at the 'being funny' business. Those suits are gonna learn what true comedy is."
He chuckled in response. A second later, we pushed through the glass doors together.
The lobby didn't even try. It was bland, functional, every aesthetic choice probably voted by a committee of the uninspired in favor of saving money.
The security checkpoint sat a few paces in. There were reinforced turnstiles and ballistic glass forming a corridor just wide enough for three, maybe four people if I was generous. It was flanked by several men in full tactical gear: helmets, vests, radios, batons, the whole works. It was just overkill enough to scream 'we take ourselves very seriously' to anyone walking in with funny ideas.
There was also an officer in navy blue holding a clipboard at the checkpoint. He glanced up at me, already brandishing a pen.
The armored guards tensed as we got closer. They stared at me from under their helmets.
The officer in blue raised a hand.
"Good morning," he said. His eyes landed on me and stayed there a beat longer than polite. "Name and purpose of your visit? Do you have an appointment?"
I glanced at Dad. Smirked. Tapped his thigh with the back of my hand and lifted the envelope.
"Yeah. Taylor Hebert." I paused. "Middle name's Anne, but, dude… we don't know each other like that."
The officer frowned. The guards got stiffer, if such a thing was possible.
"...Right," he said, flipping a page. "Purpose of your visit?"
"I'm here to be a baby hero~"
"A what."
"She means Ward," Dad said, lips twitching.
"Yeah, what he said!" I grinned. "Same thing, really. It's just a brand issue."
To the officer's credit, he didn't even blink. He simply nodded and wrote something down.
"Taylor Hebert…," he echoed, then nodded. "Yes. You were expected. If you could stand there, we'll do a quick search, then a superior will come see you."
"Search?" I made my lips form an innocent 'O'. "Brother, I left my bazooka at home. I'm not carrying any lethal weapons… 'Scept these cannons."
I lifted both arms and flexed them. Gave the guards my bestest smile.
"Yeaaaah, that's it. Drink it all in." I tilted my head, sunglasses slightly askew now. "This is way too much Taylor for all y'all to handle. You sure you still wanna search? Word to the wise… you might not survive if you look to deep, hehe."
I let them contemplate my magnificence. Let them know defeat. Let them gaze upon my works and despair…
No reaction.
A hand landed on my shoulder. Dad's hand.
"She, uh… she's got ADHD."
I choked.
"D-DAD!"
He shrugged and looked away. This absolute traitor…!
Before I could call him out, I felt a shift. Someone else moving closer.
An electromagnetic fluctuation. Biokinetic field doing something interesting.
"Relax, Matt. I'll take it from here."
I turned.
It was a woman. She was just a tad taller than me and was wearing a skintight suit, white and dark grey, covered in circuit-like cobalt patterns that glowed faintly. There were silver segments on her getup that looked like armor but weren't, their atomic composition all wrong for stopping anything serious.
There was a visor covering her upper face. Behind it, I saw dull green eyes. There was a small scar at the corner of her left one, just a shallow cut. Her hair was light brown, straight, long enough to reach her shoulders. Her lips were full, smiling, sporting the subtlest hint of pink lipstick.
I pushed my sunglasses up. Gave my Eyes another second to work deeper.
Wow.
She was a walking dynamo. Even at rest, she was humming with energy, the kind elite athletes needed warm-ups to build up. Her heart was beating at around a hundred beats per minute despite being relatively relaxed. And her brain? It was firing electrical signals at several times the rate of a normal person, doubling back, then running hotter. It was a meager fraction of what my own brain was doing… but it was strange enough to notice.
Still no cursed energy.
My Eyes looked down.
She had a ring around her annular finger beneath the costume. It was made of platinum, the expensive kind, and it had finely cut diamonds incrusted on its surface.
The memory surfaced almost instantly. I'd seen this kind of design in high-end jewelries, back in Tokyo. It was worth around… what? A million and a half yen, give it or take? More or less ten-thousand American dollars, if my math was right. It was the good kind of ring, the sort that would last a lifetime as long as you didn't throw it inside a volcano.
I blinked, slowly.
The numbers receded. In their place, something… warmer. Familiar.
I remembered a few years ago. Mom and Dad were having trouble with money, even then, and they were telling me it was all okay while they were deciding what to sell behind my back. And I also remembered walking into the kitchen, seeing Mom fiddling with her wedding band, smiling at Dad, telling him it was just 'metal' and that the money could help us more.
He had kissed her and she never mentioned the ring again.
Another blink. I stared up at the woman.
Oh. She's married.
"Ma'am," the officer started, "we were about to conduct a—"
"Bah, it's not necessary," she cut in before pointing a finger at me. "If she tries anything, I'll just pinch her cheeks really hard. I'm babysitting today."
She grinned.
"Name's Battery. And you must be Taylor, yeah? Nice to meetcha."
I stared at her. Then I grinned back.
"My reputation precedes me, huh." I cocked my head. "You rolling out the red carpet, or should I just assume you want my autograph now?"
Battery laughed.
"I like this one already!" she said, hooking a thumb towards me. "She's got attitude."
I tipped her a little salute with two fingers. I turned to Dad. A small smile had sneaked out on his face.
"Looks like nothing's 'funny'," I told him.
He nodded once. "Seems that way." Then, to Battery. "Miss… Battery? I'm Danny, Taylor's—"
"—Father," she cut in again. "Yeah, we're up to speed. Besides, I can see the resemblance."
I snorted and nudged him.
"I think she's talking about your white hairs, old man."
Dad looked down at me, still biting his lip, still fighting a losing battle. He laughed anyway and patted my back.
"Excellent. Then, do you need anything else from me? Anything I've got to do, or…"
Battery shook her head. "Nothing at all, Mister H. We'll take it from here. Taylor's in good hands! It's gonna be like a school trip to the aquarium. Except there's no school. Or aquarium."
I raised my arms.
"I'm sold! I hate school and seafood anyway."
I turned to Dad, arms still up like I was waiting for something.
He looked at me from behind his glasses. Took me in. Something flickered across his face and I catalogued it without meaning to. The slight crinkle at his eyes; the way his mouth tightened, then relaxed; the sheen in his iris, barely there. Chemicals in his brain fired patterns that spelled affection, recognition, something that might've been pride if I stared really hard. And there was also nervousness underneath it all…
He didn't want to go.
The animal reactions were so clear they almost hurt.
'This is my child. I made her. Even now, I love her. I want to protect her. She looks different but she's still mine.'
I felt warmth in my chest.
Two parts of me processed it differently. The girl, the one who'd been Taylor first, who remembered lunches packed and bedtime stories and the way Dad used to laugh before Mom died… she recognized this. I knew this was precious, scarce, buried under tragedy and the awkward distance that'd grown between us.
The other part, the sorcerer, shifted awkwardly. I'd noted these reactions before, in my students, my friends, the people who orbited around me like I was the sun. But it wasn't like this, wasn't this feeling of connection, of coming from the same place, of being linked by more than proximity or obligation.
Love, yeah.
But not the kind I'd ever really gotten.
I hugged Dad.
Pressed my face into his chest. Breathed him in in. I smelled the cologne he wore sometimes, the one Mom loved. He still had it, still used it, even now.
"Love you, Dad," I said, voice muffled.
His arms came up immediately. Drew circles on my back.
"Love you too. I'll come pick you up later." Pause. "Don't get in trouble, alright?"
I giggled against his shirt. "I'd never. I'm the goodest girl in the world~"
"Hahaha… Yeah. Sure you are."
He let go and nodded at Battery, who nodded back. After giving the unreactive guards an awkward wave, he left through the door, glancing back one last time before disappearing onto the street.
I waited, watched through the glass until he reached the car and got in.
I turned back to Battery and smiled.
She gestured at the officer and he unlocked the turnstile.
"Well? What're you waiting for, shorty? Come through. I'll show you the ropes."
I felt my smile widen. I adjusted my sunglasses.
"First off, you're about four-point-two inches taller than me, so we're both shorties and you're just in denial." I lifted a foot. "Secondly—"
Fractions spiraled inside my mind. Vectors shifted. Infinity settled around me once more, familiar as breath, just a few inches away from my skin. I extended the infinite series downward until they met the floor, then walked upon them as if going up a flight of invisible stairs, over the turnstile. I allowed Infinity to collapse as soon as my feet touched the polished tile on the other side.
Guards stiffened. I shrugged.
"—I want pudding."
Battery whistled at me.
"…Would you look at that," she said. "Kid's got flair. Assault's gonna love you."
She leaned in.
"Rule number one, though…" she continued. "…We try not to use powers unless it's necessary. Especially here. Can you do that for me, Taylor?"
I smirked at her.
"Yeppity-yes," I lied.
Battery nodded and gave me a thumbs-up, taking the brown envelope from my hand.
"Attagirl. Now… let's get you some pudding."
I scooped another wobble of PRT-issue pudding and brought it up to my mouth.
It was cold, sweet, soft enough that my teeth barely had to negotiate with it. It melted before even reaching the back of my tongue, sugar sparking little fireworks behind my Eyes. There was a pleasant shiver running down my throat, then curling up beside my temples, before finally settling somewhere at the back of my skull. I could also spot that distinct, fuzzy tingling throughout my head that usually indicated my brain was lighting up like a pinball machine.
"Thish ish…" I mumbled around the plastic spoon. "…The besht puffing I'fe had in… eva'."
Battery chuckled beside me. We walked down a long gray hallway that smelled faintly of disinfectant and warm printer ink. A couple agents passed us, glanced, and kept moving.
"It is, yeah." She hooked a thumb behind us. "I've run the full cafeteria gauntlet, so I've got a solid idea of the good meals. Meat and mashed potatoes? It's decent, not fancy, but it'll keep you vertical if you don't mind chewing through some nerve. Chicken broth?" She grimaced theatrically. "Pretty sure they boil mop water to cook that one. Don't recommend it unless you wanna meet Saint Peter. But the desserts…"
She gestured at my cup like it was evidence.
"Ohhh, the desserts are legit. My theory is that they outsource those. Only explanation as to why they're edible."
I nodded vigorously and nearly lost my sunglasses as they slid down my nose. I caught them with the back of my wrist before they could escape.
"I fhink I'm in lofe," I declared, already digging in again. I had another spoonful, and another hit of sugar.
Battery glanced at me, then down.
"Are you… Are you planning on eating all that?"
I followed her gaze.
Looped around my knuckles was a plastic bag bulging with pudding cups. There were a couple dozen inside.
I shrugged.
"I mean, yeah," I said, licking my lips. "It'd be criminal to abandon these. These are gourmet puddings."
I lifted my spoon and tapped my forehead with it.
"Besides, my brain burns lotsa sugar," I explained. "It's all fuel for the engine! Without it I'd probably just… power down, and fall over. Like a robot. A very cute robot."
She smirked. "Fuel for the engine, huh?"
We walked a few more steps.
"Is that related to your power? What does it do?"
"Oh, you know." I waved the spoon vaguely. "This and that."
Battery was quiet. She shrugged a second later.
"Explained like a pro." She gestured ahead. "Anyway! What do you wanna know about all this? I'm sure you've got questions."
"A couple, yeah…" I admitted.
Most of them were things they wouldn't answer to some fifteen-year-old on her first day, though. Things like funding, response times, and whether anyone in this building understood how crazy it was to send teens to stop crime. There were also a few about body counts and the fine print on those 'we keep you safe' promises, but I kept them all in my pocket.
"What's the deal with you PRT folks, for starters?" I tapped the spoon against my empty cup. "I got the brochure version but that's about it. The heroes told me 'we pay you' and I said 'fo sho'."
Battery snorted, and slapped a hand over her mouth, shooting me an embarrassed look. I giggled.
"Sorry, sorry." She composed herself. "Okay, you seem like a smart gal, so I'll spare you the boring details. The Parahuman Response Team is basically law enforcement for people with powers. The Protectorate is the cape division. I think you already know that bit, but you'd be surprised how many people don't know the difference. Some even think the Protectorate is, like, its own thing, working along the government instead of under it. Truth is, I'm as much of a public official as the next guy with a suit and a tie. In many ways, those rank above me too."
I nodded.
"Sooooo," I dragged out. "Government-approved heroes. The 'super police'."
"Yep."
"And the Wards?" I wave my spoon in a little circle. "Y'know. The baby heroes."
Battery opened her mouth. Closed it. Giggled, which was adorable in a way I hadn't expected from someone whose body structure suggested she could bench press a car.
"…You know what, yeah. Baby hero's not inaccurate," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "Wards are the under-eighteen program. Same idea as the Protectorate, with younger capes. When you hit eighteen you can transfer to the Protectorate or go independent. My personal advice? Stay with the heroes. It's much easier to deal with stuff when you've got a structure to fall back on."
I hummed and adjusted my sunglasses briefly.
"Noted. And these Wards," I continued, "you send them out much?"
Battery glanced at me. "Out?"
"Yeah. Stopping robberies, fighting bad guys, that kinda thing."
I focused on her heartbeat. It was still baseline fast, and now ticking a smidge faster.
"Do they get hurt?" I added. "Or, you know… die, sometimes?"
Her heartbeat spiked.
She stopped walking for half a step. When I glanced over, I saw her staring at me, an apologetic smile on her face.
"Taylor," she began. "You are not going to get hurt, period. Not if we can help it."
She studied me for another second.
"This is a big shift for you, I get that." Her hand landed briefly on my shoulder. Through the fabric separating us, I could feel the faint electric tension accumulated in her muscles, like an actual battery humming under the casing. "But you're in good hands here. I wasn't joking when I said that."
She squeezed once.
"The Wards aren't some kind of… of child soldiers in spandex. You won't be either. We don't send them 'out' just like that, and if we do, we always make sure they're safe."
I blinked.
The words hit me sideways. Not because I didn't understand them, but because they sounded a bit ridiculous directed at me, of all people. I mean, I was…
…Had been the Strongest. Had been, I reminded myself. Now I was as much a child as any future teammate in the eyes of the adults running this place.
I swallowed saliva, feeling my cheeks heat up.
"Oh! Hahaha, no, no, I wasn't asking for me," I said quickly. "I don't really care if I get hurt. I was thinking about the other kids. It'd be kinda awkward if my super-pals got all, you know…"
I made a mock grossed out face.
"…Bleedy."
Battery's smile vanished.
"You don't care if you get hurt?"
Her voice had gone a little flat at that.
"Taylor," she continued softly. "I would care if you got hurt. Others would too."
I looked at her over the rim of my sunglasses and chewed thoughtfully on absolutely nothing, letting the ghost of chocolate pudding linger on my tongue.
I gave her a small smile.
"…Alright," I said. "You care for me, I care for you. Sounds like a fair trade to me."
Battery seemed to relax a bit.
"Sounds much cooler than the whole 'protocol, paperwork, procedure' mixtape I've been listening on loop since I woke up," I went on. "Don't get me wrong, M&M's cool and all, but sometimes she feels like a spring wound three turns too tight."
The hero blinked.
"Wait… M&M?"
"Oh." I grinned. "Sorry, that's Miss Militia."
Battery's hand flew up to her mouth, but the damage was done. Her shoulders started shaking.
"That's…" she tried, inhaled, then calmed down. "…Okay, that's pretty funny."
"It is, innit?" I flicked my wrist behind me and sent my empty pudding cup sailing into a trash can halfway down the hall. It clinked inside. "Three!" I announced without turning. Battery shook her head.
"M&M," she echoed again. "Yeah, that sounds like her. You can't blame her, though. She's been doing this for a long time. Hero work grinds you down after a while. Some people cling to the rules harder; it helps them say steady. Others just do the opposite and ignore them entirely."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Miss Militia's one of the good ones. Try to cut her a little slack, yeah? Much worse capes could've made your acquaintance."
I tilted my head.
"Worse capes like who?" I asked. "Assmaster?"
"Ass… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Battery broke almost immediately. She doubled over so abruptly that two passing agents turned to stare. I waved at them and one actually smiled before remembering where he worked. Meanwhile, the hero at my side was dragging a hand down her face, still wheezing.
"O-Okay, rule number two!" she said, pointing at me like I'd committed a crime. "We show respect to senior heroes!"
Her lips twitched. I rolled my Eyes.
"Sometimes, adults are annoying," she admitted. "But they're also the ones who'll pull you out of the fire when things go bad."
Oh, you wish.
I snapped a crisp salute for her anyway, smiling lazily.
"Yessir!"
"Terrific!" She gestured down the hall. "Let's go. You're meeting Clockie and Vista."
"Yessir!"
I fell into step beside her. Let my gaze drift over the hallways. I saw more agents with clipboards, with coffee, with that particular kind of thousand-yard stare that only office workers could pull off.
It all looked so painfully mundane.
It was funny, because being recruited into the Wards was supposed to feel like a dream come true.
For most kids my age, it would be. Hell, it had been, for me, once upon a time, before the locker. When I was little, I used to watch footage of cape fights the way other kids watched cartoons. My favorite had always been Alexandria and I even had a lunchbox of her. I'd dreamed of being invulnerable, fighting Endbringers without flinching and looking beautiful while I did. Silly fantasies of a silly girl, yeah, but they'd pulled me through bad situations when the thought of being strong as just Taylor simply didn't cut it.
Alexandria… she did remind me of Mom in a way I never quite finished unpacking.
It didn't matter now. But the memory did something strange inside me.
For a moment, my chest tightened. I felt my heart beating faster, smacking against my ribs, shaken out of its perfect rhythm by something that wasn't pain or adrenaline.
Me. A Ward.
Not so long ago I'd been agonizing about whether Emma felt like destroying my notes for giggles. Or whether Sophia had woken up in one of those moods where breathing in her direction could ruin my afternoon. Or whether I should try the horrifying social experiment known as 'making new friends' because God, I needed some.
This was different. It was my escape hatch, a chance to stop being the victim in someone else's story. Finally, I could be something else that wasn't me. Something better.
However…
…The other half of my brain wasn't nearly as impressed.
Twenty-nine years of exterminating curses had set the bar somewhere in the stratosphere. It also installed a very annoying comparison engine within my mind.
Villains? Evil sorcerers with silly aesthetics. Powers? Cursed techniques without the 'curse' part to them. The categories overlapped a little too cleanly and annihilated the awe before I could even process it.
My cape origin story didn't help much either. Nothing screamed 'unglamorous' like fermenting inside a locker filled with old tampons and dried menstrual blood, as if that wasn't bizarre enough on its own. Once your brain starts juggling multiple lifetimes, though, the shock value drops fast.
Had I gone insane? For the first time, I did seriously wonder.
The thought lasted all about three seconds before the Six Eyes politely dumped a diagnostic report across my mind: neocortex, pristine. Amygdala, functional. Cognitive integrity, annoyingly optimal. Right, so it was literally impossible for me to lose my mind, and my brain would run like a luxury sports car whether I liked it or not.
The memories of me as a sorcerer still sat in my head like sealed archives. Perfectly preserved, technically mine, even if my body didn't remember the weight of them…which left me with a slightly awkward realization.
The most impressive thing about today wasn't the powers. Or the capes. Or the paycheck.
It was that Battery was being nice to me.
That was it. That was the highlight.
Dad didn't count. Dad was always nice to me, in a way I was only beginning to appreciate. But it had been a while since anyone treated me well, and having another person crammed in my head just made the distance starker between now and the last time I'd shared a smile with Emma.
I looked at Battery walking beside me, still occasionally snickering to herself about 'Assmaster'.
How long till this goes wrong?
I decided not to chew on that one too hard as we turned the corner into another hallway.
As we did, my Eyes drifted to digital boards on the walls. I saw warnings, mugshots and threat ratings. Lung, Oni Lee, Kaiser, Hookwolf, Stormtiger, Coil… Some names I recognized from the news and others were new entries in the ever-growing encyclopedia of terrible life choices. There were tags in bold red also: 'APPROACH WITH CAUTION', 'CLASS C THREAT'. There was a cheerful banner with a tip underneath it all, too. 'If you see a parahuman crime in progress, call 9-1-1. Do not engage'.
I snorted and looked away.
I imagined neither agents nor Wards needed a reminder of the criminal headaches mounted on the walls. It was probably light show for tourists, a friendly advice for students in school trips or fresh interns that beefing with supervillains wasn't a smart choice. I personally felt a bit anxious remembering that these guys in edgy costumes were genuine criminals. They robbed, and dealed, and raped, and killed, sometimes for profit, sometimes because they could.
Any other day, I'd have pretended they didn't exist. Why would a fifteen-year old care about villains more than she'd care about some no-name drug dealer?
Instead, a fun thought came to mind.
Whom do I want to play with first…?
I wasn't sure why it came to me so easily or why I was feeling excited about it.
Battery tapped my shoulder. For a moment, her touch felt like grabbing a live wire wrapped in ice before my brain automatically dialed the sensation down. I pursed my lips and swallowed down a groan.
"There they are," she said, pointing down the hallway.
A few paces ahead, I saw two capes.
One was a boy, maybe my age or a bit older, leaning against the wall. He wore a white skintight outfit with matching armor plates that blended so well you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. He also had a featureless white helmet, and from a distance, he almost looked like a walking bottle of correction fluid. Underneath the ensemble, I saw his pale skin, a number of freckles across his nose, and a shock of red hair. He also had deep blue eyes, not quite like mine. His were… less electric, less radioactive. I liked them.
Next to him stood a girl, definitely younger, thirteen or fourteen, tops. She had neatly brushed blonde hair and was wearing a costume with a skirt covered in swooping lines, white and forest green colors alternating. There were also green armor panels over her arms and a green visor covering her eyes.
I focused, and their conversation flowed into my mind.
"…Keep telling you that scene was utter dogshit," the girl said in the sweetest voice imaginable. I choked.
The boy wagged a finger at her. "Do not slander Shadow Devil Genesis. The special effects were questionable, yes, but everything else was god-tier. 'What can a devil do to me that humans haven't already done?' You can't tell me that line didn't give you chills."
"Okay, yeah, but—"
"Case closed."
"No, let me—"
"Caaaaaaase closed." He slapped gloved hands over his helmet.
"—that stupid CGI ruined the whole thing!" she snapped, stomping her foot. "I can't focus on the dialogue if there's a goofy-ass 3D demon moving like a clay doll with arthritis!"
"I think," he said, unbothered, "you're exaggerating."
"Dennis—"
"Missy."
"Dennis."
"You're exaggerating." He crossed his arms. "You're taking this too personally."
Missy looked like she might physically vibrate apart.
"…Why," she said slowly, "would you use cheap CGI when you live in a world with literal capes who do special effects for cheap? It makes no sense! They made John Marshall look like a bum arguing with a broken action figure! And Captain John Marshall is not a bum."
He threw his hands up. "There she goes again… John Marshall doesn't exist! He's fiction! There's no tall, blond, buff guy coming to sweep you off your feet, Missy!"
"Y-You don't know that!"
Battery laughed softly. I glanced at her, and she was watching them with a smile, as if finding the whole thing cute.
We stopped a few feet away and she clapped.
"Alright, break it up, children!" she said.
Dennis immediately straightened up and pointed at Missy. "Battery, ma'am, Vista's being delusional again. She thinks a demon-possessed super soldier's coming to save her. I recommend electroshock therapy."
"I'm gonna electroshock your face with my foot," Vista growled. "You're so… Oh. This is her?"
She said so as soon as she noticed me. Dennis followed her gaze and I saw his eyebrows go up beneath the helmet.
Battery nodded energetically. "Yep. New teammate. Well, possible new teammate. Be nice with her."
Dennis quickly composed himself, pushed off the wall and saluted me. At this distance, I could distinctly see something like clock faces painted over several places on his costume, each one with their hands pointing at different times of the day.
"Shalom," he said with a hint of laughter. "Codename's Clockblocker. Most handsome, smartest cape in the city. Don't let that distract you from the fact I'm also a playboy billionaire philanthropist, though… I like to stay humble."
Missy rolled her eyes.
"I'm Vista," Missy said with an exasperated expression. "Don't listen to Clock. He's at that age."
"What age?!" he said, spinning towards her.
Their bickering bounced back and forth like a tennis match. It felt weirdly familiar… like Yuji and Nobara arguing over mall trips. Like Emma and I used to argue over absolutely nothing until we both started laughing.
It had been a while since I talked, really talked, with anyone my age. Adults used to ignore me, and now they just expected nonsense from me. I could poke them until they cracked. But with these guys? I… wasn't really sure how to talk to boys, or girls, or people in general.
I breathed.
Confidence, I thought to myself. I had to be confident. I was confident.
I put on my best face for them.
"Good Taylor! I'm morning, blue to meet you," I said brightly. "My favorite color is chocolate~"
FUCK.
…To their credit, neither of them laughed.
No, what the hell, that's even worse!
Battery had the widest smile on her face. I kept smiling, too, because stopping would mean acknowledging I just had the silliest brain fart. If things got any more awkward, I would have to escalate into T-posing to assert dominance. Nuclear option, a bit embarrassing, but absolutely worth it.
Dennis raised a hand. He waved slowly.
"Hello… Morning."
Missy smacked the side of his thigh. He jumped.
"H-Hey, I'm being—!"
"An idiot," she finished as she turned to me, expression resetting into friendly surprisingly fast. "Taylor, yeah? It's a pleasure."
She offered her hand.
"I like chocolate too."
I stared at it for a second before I gave her a handshake. Her grip was firm, not like you'd expect from someone who looked like she should be carrying a backpack full of homework. She was… oddly put-together. A middle-schooler version of Nanami, in a way.
I grinned at her.
"What's good, Vista?" I said. "Cool name, by the way. Rolls of the tongue."
I tilted my head.
"Do you have a gun?"
Missy blinked, then frowned.
"I… a gun?" she echoed. "Why would I even need a gun?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. I just think it'd be funny if you pulled a gun out."
Her jaw tightened a notch.
"Why, because I'm young?"
"Yeah!" I barrelled on. "You look like you're headed to prom, girl."
She stared at me. Dennis was leaning in, too, fully invested.
"Everyone expects Carrie to go crazy," I explained. "Nobody expects the prom queen to whip out a shooting iron. That's why you should get a revolver and start blastin'. You've got the surprise factor on your side."
Whatever hint of irritation she had flickered out, and confusion filled in instead. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again.
"… I'm pretty sure Carrie had telekinesis," she offered.
"Bah, revolver, telekinesis, it's practically the same thing." I waved a hand. "Just think 'bout it! We've got the big scary villain, lotsa spikes, lotsa teeth, the whole 'I'm evil' vibe. Veeeery intimidating. And then this cute hero girl walks up to the monster and… and… and BAM!"
I accompanied the last word with a finger gun.
Missy actually jumped a little, which was adorable. Dennis was trying really hard not to snort.
"Just imagine the sequence! How'd you feel if the hero girl pointed a twenty-inch piece at your face? It's scary, dude. You could even call it… the Vista & Wesson."
I waggled my fingers in the air like they were jazz hands. Missy was likely processing the nonsense if her silence was of any indication.
Dennis, on the other hand, snapped upright, raising his hand in the air.
"Me! I'm next! What does my codename sound like to you?"
I adjusted my sunglasses and studied him for a long second.
"Sounds like you wanted to piss off a lot of people," I said, grinning. "And got away with it."
Dennis punched the air.
"Yes! She gets it!"
Battery laughed softly behind us, radiating proud big sister energy or something like that. I hitched my jeans up and slid my hands into my pockets.
"Soooo." I looked between them. "What are you guys betting?"
Both Wards stilled. Dennis did a double take and Missy pursed her lips. Then, they both looked at Battery, and I didn't need my Eyes to know she was shrugging, fighting back a laugh.
"H-How?" Dennis said. "I m-mean, how didja know that?"
Missy snapped her fingers.
"I know!" she said, pointing at me, visor angling toward my face. "She's a Thinker! Maybe… precognition?"
I smiled at her. "What, like seeing the future and stuff?"
They both nodded.
"Naaaah~" I said, waving a lazy hand. "Nothing so mystical. My methods are more, uh… sophisticated."
I pointed a finger at Missy.
"She's got a hundred bucks in her skirt pocket," I explained. "Hundred-dollar bill, still fresh, clean fold. Since it's not crumpled she must have taken it from her savings after suiting up…"
Her eyes widened a little. Bingo.
I trailed off before pointing at Dennis.
"…Then there's Clockie, who's got the exact same amount in his pocket," I continued. "Only difference? He's got an old fifty, two twenties, and two fivers that look like they survived a war. You two should earn around the same as Wards, so he's definitely got a hundred a somewhere."
I gestured at his hand with a wave of mine.
"The problem is that he was in a hurry this morning," I said. "Clockie spilled coffee on his hand, and between icing the burn and dressing up he forgot he made a bet, so he grabbed whatever cash he had lying around and ran."
Dennis' hand twitched guiltily, the burn still an angry red beneath the white glove.
I tapped my temple with a finger.
"Now, the exact nature of the bet? That part's fuzzy. But Vista was quick to label my power. And since you two were waiting…" I gestured at the wall besides us. "…Next to the big-ass reinforced room, I'm gonna guess you bet a hundred bucks on what kinda power I've got, and wanted to see it in action."
I smiled at them and spread my arms wide.
"How'd I do, gents?"
The two of them stared at me like I'd grown a second and third head. They stared at each other, checking if they had understood. Then they stared at Battery, searching for an explanation. Battery herself was busy staring at me, a little too impressed despite everything.
"Guys," I said. "I'm gonna charge you for looking."
The three looked away at the same time.
"Hahaha! Kidding!" I held up a hand. "I wanted to flex a little. Gotta make an impression, eh? You come in loud or you don't come in at all!"
Missy rubbed her arms, shuddering. "That's one way to put it… I felt a chill down my spine."
I angled a grin at her. A second later, I directed it at Dennis.
"What about you, Clock-boy? Feelin' the chills yet? Or should I start narrating your internet search history to everyone present?"
Dennis choked.
"Y-You know that too?!"
The color drained out of his face so fast it almost matched his costume. He actually stepped forward, like I might already be mid-sentence, ready to stop me.
I pushed up my sunglasses.
"Just askin'." I pointed at the reinforced door. "Though, if you're so curious… why don't I take the training room for a spin? I get to show off my Chinese fireworks and you guys settle your bet. Everyone wins!"
Dennis and Missy nodded in sync before looking at Battery.
"Well," the hero said. "We were supposed to head to the conference room, give Taylor the orientation package. She was scheduled for the PowerPoint presentation and everything."
Both Wards rolled their eyes. I chose not to ask.
"But!" Battery continued. "The director is busy, no one's booked the room, and we've got the early slot, so… we can play around a bit."
I hoisted my plastic bag, pudding cups knocking softly together.
"Yay! Let's break stuff!"
Battery walked towards the door and punched a code into a keypad. The thing opened with a sigh and we marched in. Lights flickered on overhead, and I noticed a proximity sensor at the edge of my awareness, probably tied to the power grid.
I whistled.
The room was big. I mean, I already knew from glancing through the walls, but knowing and seeing were different things. It was all clean lines and hard surfaces, with steel-paneled walls and reinforced concrete underfoot. This was nuclear-shelter kind of sturdy and I knew it could take several degrees of building-leveling punishment.
I looked around and saw something like a supply closet in a corner. Inside, there were ballistic vests, spare tactical gear, shields, some kind of foam…
I tore my Eyes away and wandered further in.
"Wowie," I said. "You guys mop this place or something? Waaay to clean for a training room."
Dennis chuckled behind me. "I mean, we call it 'training room', but it's actually the testing room. We're not supposed to wreck it too much. Last time, Gallant invited his girlfriend and she—"
"—Punched a hole through the wall," Missy added dryly.
"Director P got really mad at us," Dennis said, nodding.
"She deducted a third of our collective paycheck to pay for repairs," Missy added yet again.
Battery huffed as she closed the door. "And that's a cautionary tale for you, Tay. We don't go crazy indoors. Keep the… the 'Chinese fireworks' below structural damage and we'll be dandy. Do your thing, but if you lose control, I'll step in."
I glanced back at her and smiled.
"Deal," I replied. "Got a dummy or something?"
Missy patted Dennis' shoulder. "He's right here."
"HEY."
She was already moving away and into the supply closet. A moment later she emerged with an adult-sized training dummy. It was a faceless, beige-colored thing bolted to a weighted base. She set it down a few feet in front of me and stepped back.
"Nice." I whistled at the dummy. "I'll call you Mike now. Hey, Mike! You're getting folded today! You don't mind, do ya?"
Three stifled laughs echoed behind me. I grinned and raised my hand toward the dummy.
I focused on the cursed energy within me. I felt it stirring, trying to lash out, a stream of negativity made quiet and precise by my Six Eyes. With a thought, I redirected all of it into my brain and…
…Stopped.
Something shifted at the far wall.
There, where steel met shadow, a shape peeled itself free.
No, it was not something. Someone. A translucent cloud of smoke and ash, shaped like a person, melting through the wall like it wasn't there. I saw the silhouette of a woman, a skull where a face should be, right before it fully stepped into the room.
She solidified.
Black mist settled into black clothes. The figure was wearing a heavy cloak over her shoulders, a bodysuit underneath. There were straps, pockets gauntlets that hid any hint of skin. I also saw crossbows hidden in places normal eyes would never catch, and bolts stashed somewhere else, some blunt-tipped, others sharp and deadly.
The impassive face of a woman stared at me from under the cloak. It was a stern expression set in metal, catching the light from the room. And from behind the mask… two brown eyes stared at me pointedly.
No. They were watching me.
I stared back.
"Always so dramatic," Dennis muttered.
I think Missy nodded in response. I didn't pay attention. I was focused, looking at the shadow instead.
Something prickled at the back of my skull.
Those eyes…
I knew those eyes.
Battery stomped past me, footsteps heavy enough that I almost flinched. She planted herself in front of the shadow, arms crossed.
"Shadow Stalker," she said with a flat voice. "What brings you here?"
The figure's gaze flicked to me, then back to Battery. Shadow Stalker chuckled low and muffled behind the mask.
"Try to sound a little less disappointed, ma'am. The director wanted to see me so I took a day off school. And before you get on my case about my grades again, my GPA's at three-point-five currently. I can skip once or twice."
"Congratulations," Battery replied, a little too flatly. "Director Piggot isn't here. Why search in the testing room first thing?"
The shadow shrugged.
"Why not? The director's busy. Besides, I heard we're getting fresh meat and got a little curious," she said. "And since the guards wouldn't let me wander for some reason, I decided to look for myself. Now that I'm here, though…"
Shadow Stalker glanced at me again.
"…I'm pretty sure I wasted my time," she said.
Battery stepped into her line of sight, muttering something like a reprimand beneath her breath. The girl in black groaned.
I focused my Eyes through Battery, let them rove over Shadow Stalker, her body structure, her posture, her tone of voice.
Thump-thump-thump, my heart hammered. Heartbeat rising over eighty per minute, the Six Eyes reported, as if I didn't know the sound of my own body reveling against me.
The plastic bag crinkled in my grip.
I stepped forward, hands in my pockets, and stopped at arm's length from Battery. Her shoulder brushed mine as she turned.
"Taylor…" she said in a low voice. "This is Shadow Stalker. She's a Ward, too."
"I figured."
Shadow Stalker gave me a longer look this time. Something curious settled in the tilt of her head, and then she chuckled.
"Taylor?" she echoed, rolling my name around like it was something ugly.
A pause.
"What a shit codename."
Battery snapped at the girl, a sharp warning in her voice.
I didn't catch it. I didn't catch anything at all. I simply adjusted my sunglasses, allowing my Six Eyes to cut clean through her costume.
Every sense I had locked onto her, dissected her. There was no room or people or anything but her in a moment.
In a second, my vision tried to do what it always did. Tried to peel her apart, analyze the density of her bones, map her nerve pathways, listen to the electrical chatter in her brain. These were useful things, safe things, a reminder that even the most disgusting person was only flesh and synapses at the end of the day. Information couldn't hurt me. Data couldn't make me angry. Numbers were numbers, not memories, not emotions, not…
…The Six Eyes rolled out the statistics across my mind, automatically—
Approximately three-point-ten liters of tear film shed over a period of a year and a half. The individual tear count caps at around seventy-five thousand two hundred and one in total, with 'individual tears' amounting from zero-point-zero-three to zero-point-zero-five milliliters each. There is a higher propensity of tear film shedding between ten p.m. and one a.m.
Stop.
Approximately three hundred and twenty-two incidents in school. The count rises to four hundred and five if the incidents outside the school building itself are considered. The count rises to seven hundred and twelve if insults, backhanded commentaries and lies are considered.
Stop that.
The state of the decay of the contents within the locker exposes a clear timeline. It was not prepared recently, not filled a day or a week before. Considering the putrefaction of the tampons and the drying of the blood, it's correct to assume the locker was prepared before winter holidays, given longer than two months to ferment.
—I felt my Eyes twitch.
I dialed the analysis back. The numbers didn't matter. Her biology didn't matter.
I only wanted her face.
I saw sharp eyes, predator's eyes, half-lidded and judging all in one. Her cheekbones and jaw were set for beauty without softness. She had a strong nose, upturned at me, as if in disgust of what she was seeing, like the angle itself was an insult. Her lips were thick and quick to widen, the same way they'd split into a cruel grin I'd seen a hundred times over a hundred days over a hundred small deaths.
I saw a locker slamming. I heard a laughter without echo. I felt days stacked one on top of another until they blurred into one, long, gray smear.
The Six Eyes fed me the image of her like a verdict.
I went floaty, lightheaded. I wanted to vomit, curl into a corner, pretend I hadn't seen. She was looking at me, wasn't she? Had she recognized me despite the changes? To her, was I still just...Taylor?
Sophia.
My bully. My torturer. The one who'd made it her mission to ruin my life because she could. And she was standing there, now, wrapped in black and steel, making fun of me like nothing had changed.
Shadow Stalker… Sophia…
She was a Ward.
Sense of balance altered, my Eyes warned, already trying to correct an imperfection that had nothing to do with my muscles or my nerves or the two lives in my head. The dizziness hit me again, but I couldn't retch, the Six Eyes coordinating the rising anxiety too tightly, the sorcerer in me standing ground.
Miss Militia's words drifted up in my head. 'A thorough investigation', she'd said. I wasn't naïve; I understood what she wasn't saying. She was all careful wording and no promises. I'd accepted it because I already spent a lifetime disappointed by the 'official' way. I thought I couldn't be surprised anymore.
Don't waste yourself with her, the sorcerer advised.
I don't care anymore, the girl replied.
I tried to take a breath, and failed.
Disgusting. All of it, disgusting. Not the situation, I was used to shitty situations, but the sheer nerve of these people. They tried to cage me, they promised me 'normality', and then put the same person who'd ruined me in front of me, as if I wouldn't notice her, wouldn't feel the rot of her on my skin and in my bones.
A hero?
A fucking bully.
The pieces clicked together. I remembered Miss Militia's questions at the hospital, the edge under her voice that hadn't quite fit the script.
She knew.
She knew Sophia, knew about her… and she hadn't been able to do anything.
My mind drifted somewhere older. Bad blood among sorcerers wasn't strange; they used to tear each other apart over 'pride' and 'history' as if curses weren't right there enjoying the show. Ancient families would feud and the new generations would inherit their 'traditions' as if they were worth any more than a heap of dirt.
I'd stood in the middle of that. I'd looked at people who should've known better, weighed whether killing them would make the world quieter. Sometimes it would've. But I'd been patient, let their mistakes slide, because people needed fewer curses, not fewer sorcerers.
Sophia wasn't a sorcerer. And this wasn't that world.
I licked my lips. Tried not to bite them, bite through them.
I could end this.
It would be easy.
I could backhand her head off her body.
It would only take a second.
I could make it quick and painless, with more mercy than she'd ever bothered with.
She would not suffer. I would not be trash like she is. I would be… correcting a problem.
My hand twitched.
…No.
I quieted it.
What would her death even do for me? It wouldn't undo the locker. It wouldn't give me my life back. It wouldn't save the version of me that had learned how to disappear just to survive.
And she… she was a kid, too. A terrible, cruel, stupid kid, but a kid nonetheless. Terrible people didn't come from nowhere, and one terrible choice wouldn't account for another.
I could kill her. I could killer her a thousand times and do it a thousand more with a gesture of my hand. I could make it sting more. I could humiliate her just like she humiliated me, make her feel powerless for once in her miserable life and laugh at her every delicious second of it. I didn't doubt my capacity to hurt or the morality of it. Sophia deserved everything I had in store for her.
…I'd feel like shit anyway.
Killing her would not fix the society that created her. Losing control would not change the system that had abandoned me.
It was pointless. It was wrong.
I wasn't above revenge, wasn't above lethal measures. But what's violence without purpose? Or strength without a reason?
I had held the corpse of a girl in my arms, her life taken away long before she died. I had murdered my best friend in hopes I could turn around the system that had destroyed his dreams. I had made sacrifices, felt their cost in excruciating details for a decade, all to uphold a stupid, beautiful dream I didn't need to defend but still did…
It's the duty of the strong to protect the weak.
…And I'd be damned if I stopped now.
I felt my chest rising, once. I let it… and I came back.
Sophia was still there in front of me, smirking smugly beneath her mask. Battery was at her side, eyes flicking between us, tension in her shoulders.
"You…"
I waited.
Then I smiled, tilting my sunglasses down. I let her see my Eyes.
"…You're a special potato, aren't you?"
Sophia's mouth pulled tight under the mask.
I caught the spike of irritation first, and then something sharper followed. Her eyes narrowed a fraction, trying to pin me down, trying to line up the edges of me and failing. I still wasn't sure if she knew it was me for a fact, if she recognized Taylor beneath the new skin, the new Eyes… but I was pretty sure she'd hate it all the same.
She folded her arms.
"Dumbass."
Battery snapped towards her again, hands on her hips. "Take that back right—"
"No worries!" I cut in, raising my hands. "I get it, I get it…"
I rocked back on my heels, grinning at them both.
"…New girl in town, starts talking weird, throws 'round a couple party tricks… nobody's gonna give me the VIP treatment, obviously. Gotta earn the part before doin' the part, yeah? I believe I had an audition lined up a moment ago."
My gaze slid past Battery and landed squarely on Sophia again. I jerked a thumb over my shoulder.
"Why don't you take Shadow Wanker back with the others," I said, "before she gets hurt for real?"
"W-Wha… What the fuck did you just call me?!"
Sophia's shoulders went rigid Her fingers curled into fists. She took a step forward before she finished her sentence…
"Enough!"
Battery's hand came down on Sophia's shoulder, stopping her.
"You asked for it," the hero said gravely. "Don't complain if she bites back. And Taylor… don't play her game. We're not supposed to fight each other."
I nodded, still smirking. Sophia's stared burned with murder into me as Battery dragged her away. I saw teeth grinding, shoulders trembling, whole frame wound tighter than a wire. If she was obeying, it was only by a thread.
I let her stew in her anger.
A second later, I turned to the faceless dummy, still waiting for me in the middle of the room.
"Mike," I said under my breath. "I believe we had a thing pending, you and I…"
Behind me, whispers started up. Missy asked about something, Dennis answered too quickly, Battery hushing the two of them. Sophia remained a livid, wordless heartbeat in the backdrop.
I tuned them out and raised my palm toward the dummy. I imagined it was Sophia instead of the dummy, so that the next thing would feel way too satisfying in turn.
I pushed cursed energy into my brain.
Most cursed techniques were straightforward. Hit harder, summon fire, shape ice, control your blood, call forth shikigami that fight for you, launch invisible slashes from afar.
The flavors could change, but jujutsu battles usually followed a cycle of 'punch, dodge, strike, overwhelm'. Techniques existed to sharpen that cycle, to maximize offense or push utility to its peak.
Limitless?
The power to bring the concept of 'Infinity' into reality.
…Or at least that was the version the clan elders loved to recite, for drama, for the prestige. It was what I said when I wanted to intimidate an enemy. And yet, Infinity was just the flashy side-effect, the spectacle. At its heart, my technique was much simpler.
Limitless was the power to decide how distance resolves between two points.
That was it. That was the 'legendary' technique, distilled to its simplest function. But that simplicity was what made it monstrous. To control space itself was to operate on advanced mathematics, to turn paradoxes that only made sense in theory true.
Infinity, then, was simply Limitless manifesting in our world. Neither a shield nor a field, but space, divided an infinite number of times. It didn't matter the speed of the opponent, the strength of their attack. To reach me, they'd have to cross the distance, then half of it, then half of that half, then half again, and again, endlessly. Mathematically, an infinite series had an endpoint, but Limitless also forced outside forces to experience each halfway point as discrete movements, instead of letting motion flow.
Relatively simple. Conceptually untouchable.
Now… I could also push it further.
I sank inward. The world thinned to a stream of numbers and vectors. My Six Eyes traced the neural circuit of Limitless lighting up in radioactive cyan across my brain.
The infinite series unraveled in my mind.
…One four-million-one-hundred-ninety-four-thousand-three-hundred-fourth. One eight-million-three-hundred-eighty-eight-thousand-six-hundred-eighth. One sixteen-million-seven-hundred-seventy-seven-thousand-two-hundred-sixteenth. One thirty-three-million-five-hundred-fifty-four-thousand-four-hundred-thirty-second…
Anyone in the Gojo clan who inherited Limitless could summon Infinity, provided they had the right grasp of numbers and could tolerate abstraction. Using it was not the issue.
Dividing space once? Easy. Twice? Comfortable. Thrice? No problem.
Dividing space every second of every hour of every day?
An excellent way to melt brains.
Hold that process for a minute and your thoughts started to fray. Hold it longer and they snapped. I'd seen relatives who tried to push too far and ended up staring at nothing for the rest of their lives.
The Six Eyes made it… quieter. Clearer. I didn't need to think about each division if the Eyes did it for me.
All I had to do was choose. Let the infinite series go on forever… or enforce convergence.
I felt my mouth curling.
"Time for a little tour-de-force."
I injected more cursed energy into the technique. The divisions sped up and space deformed, pulling inward, more violently, the cascade of numbers accelerating until it blurred into something dense, something inevitable…
…The number zero slammed into my mind.
I closed my fingers.
The space around the dummy's head distorted, lensed. The air bent as if it were glass under pressure, and the shape of the dummy started to cave in on itself. It all shrank, slowly, into a near-invisible sinkhole forming on its forehead.
At the convergence point… a faint azure color.
No, not a color. The idea of one. A curtain the mind and Eye invented to mask something they couldn't process.
"What is that?" Missy whispered somewhere behind me, a hint of fright in her voice.
I didn't answer.
I opened the floodgates, funneling all my cursed energy into Limitless.
The numbers broke through zero.
Minus one. Minus two. Minus three. Minus four. Minus five. Minus six.
The dummy creaked, shrank further. Dust rose and drifted into the sinkhole. The floor shivered.
I clenched my fist.
Minus ten. Minus fifty. Minus one hundred…
"Cursed Technique Lapse."
…Minus one thousand.
"Blue."
Space collapsed.
The dummy groaned, then dematerialized, snapping forward and vanishing into the azure, crushed into nothing in a second. The pressure deepened, then turned vicious, cracks spreading through the floor before fragments exploded outward, slamming back into the negative infinity well.
I clenched my fist harder.
The room shook. The steel panels tore from the walls, from the ceiling, screaming a shrill sound and immediately soaring into the formless mass growing in the middle of the room. The mass pulsed, swallowed more, grew bigger. A muffled distortion-like hum thrummed louder from its center.
At the heart of it, Blue burned brighter, dragging reality through the vacuum it had created, trying to fill it and failing. The spatial singularity sharpened, flaming an electric, dangerous color like a sunlit sky swallowing itself.
An entire chunk of a wall blasted off. The ceiling buckled under the invisible suction, sagging, pulled downward like softened rubber.
Missy yelped. Dennis swore "holy shit" and hauled her back with him. Sophia made a sound between snarl and gasp, crouching, something feral in the way she searched for footing, for an escape.
Battery stepped forward.
"TAYLOR! OFF! TURN IT OFF NOW!"
I smiled.
Blue could discriminate between targets. The pull would curve around them, careful not to touch them.
They didn't need to know that anyway. They hadn't told me about Sophia, so… screw 'em a little bit.
I turned my wrist, slowly, like fitting a key into place.
Blue pulsed again. It roared, blasting everything outward for a heartbeat, then snapped it all back into itself again, force doubling, tightening, devouring.
I kept at it. Kept at it. Held it there, letting it inhale reality gluttonously…
…I relaxed my hand.
The singularity blinked out. Debris and twisted metal hung in the air for a second. Gravity remembered itself soon enough and everything crashed down in a jagged chorus.
At the center of the room, a crater yawned open. At its heart, there was something small, a marble-sized, white-hot little starlet of concrete, steel and everything else Blue compressed together.
It sank into the floor for a second, two…
…Exploded.
I expanded the range of Infinity to stop the shockwave that followed as the material unraveled itself. There was a burst of superheated fragments flying about, embedding themselves into walls, floor, stopping at the boundary of my defense. Then, a burst of hotter gases and plasma came along, though I kept those at bay too until they dissipated.
Silence followed. Well, no, not quite. There were sirens wailing in the distance. Boots thundered closer, dozens of them.
I turned around.
Missy had gone pale, her skin matching Dennis' costume. Dennis had his arms around her, staring at me like was something from another planet. Battery had punched through the ground, her arms embedded deep as if she were bracing herself, her eyes wide, green platters.
And Sophia…
She was in a corner, crouching low like a scared animal. From this distance, I could still see her teeth grinding, the veins popping on her neck. I could also see her mouthing "Impossible", as if it were so impressive there was someone stronger than her.
I let the moment settle. Enjoyed the sight of them for a good second.
"…Dudes." I gestured at the crater. "I think I broke the dummy."
I scratched my cheek as I looked around.
"I think I also broke the testing room."
A piece of ceiling groaned and detached itself onto the floor. The terrified capes flinched.
I leaned in, grinning at them.
"So, who won the bet?"
Nobody got to answer. The door, or what used to be the door, burst inward as people flooded through. Armored agents with flamethrower-like weapons, other with batons, suits with guns, all barking orders, all fanning out, scanning for threats.
And then, someone cut through them as if she owned them all. A woman in navy blue suit and skirt. She was thickset, shorter than the agents at her sides. Her steel-grey eyes roved over the disaster. She looked at Battery, at the Wards.
At me.
I dropped my sunglasses just enough to meet her eyes. I gave her an easy wink.
She brushed a strand of bleached blond hair from her face, lips a line, pulse steady as stone.
"…My office. Now."
I kept smiling. I didn't have anything else to do with my face.
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