Ablation

Amy

Being flown to the hospital didn’t feel as good as before. Amy tried imagining Taylor carrying her like Vicky did, and it still didn’t awaken anything within her. The day went on just as she expected. Lung tried to push for territory after yesterday night’s cape fight Empire got into, that brought a steady flow of civilian casualties to the hospital. The PRT knew she’d be here so they probably prioritized sending the high priority patients. It was in that crowd of injured people that Amy found someone. A cape. She just triggered, her mind going into shock due to the whole explosion of emotions. Amy rushed to put her into a coma and said some excuse about her needing extra treatment. Her mood immediately got better for the rest of the day. And at the end of it, she can work on a cape.

And work she did. She didn’t know the cape’s full powerset, but her brain became more active when she was in contact with sharp objects, like needles or scalpel blades. How did Amy find out? The IV drip needle on her wrist felt like it was extra dull to her senses. That sent alarm sirens into Amy’s mind as dull needles are prone to breaking more often and tearing the veins and why the fuck would any nurse use a dull needle on an ER patient? So she tried to put a scalpel in the girl’s hand and it also became dull. Huh. A fellow Striker. Lucky you, you get cool knife powers while I get to make abominations of nature. Well… I haven’t made any of those yet buuuut…

Amy places her hand on the girl’s and starts working. Higher mobility range, stretchier and tighter sinews, graphene lined skin. She even modifies the skin tissue to generate and upkeep it on its own without ever needing to patch her up. Stronger muscles, better nutrient processing. Honestly, the human body is so full of imperfections. It’s true how they say evolution is not the path of perfection, but a path of whatever works. If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it. But I WANT to fix it. She does the improvements much faster and better this time, as she has spent the past week practicing with Mini Mark and has already gotten a taste for it from Taylor. But now it is time for something riskier. She adds low light vision lenses to the girl’s eyes, she makes them toggleable because she’d feel kinda horrible if an unnatural glint in her eye was the thing that gave her cape identity away. She also added retractable claws to the girl’s fingertips because why the heck not? Catgirls, man! They are the shit!

Her unethical experiments done, she un-coma’s the girl and files it away as dangerous inorganic chemicals in her bloodstream that made Amy take her sweet time. Amy gave her a light concussion to sell the coma part and let the nurses take over the intensive care part. She had a great time today. She pictures Taylor, eyes shining in the dark, claws digging into her sides, holding her again and blushes hard. Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. I should ask her if she ever wanted to try being a catgirl.

Taylor

It was with fear and trepidation that I took my first step inside Arcadia. It is the middle of the semester so there's nobody to play a tour guide for me. It's not hard to find my way to the principal’s office though. There's a large map of the school grounds at the entrance hall, along with all of their trophies and medals from in-school, statewide and interstate competitions. They even have a special pedestal for the international math olympiad silver medal from ‘05. Yeah. The trophy shelves wouldn't last a day in Winslow before someone tries to check if it's real gold or not. And they'd steal it anyway even if it's fake.

Thankfully, I don't suffer from geographical cretinism and could find my way to the office without a set of glowing arrows pointing towards it. That would be super embarrassing. There, on the top floor, right above the entrance hall, I find the principal’s office. I introduce myself to the secretary and she pulls up my schedule and gives me my new locker. Oh, great. I have to use those. At least they're too small to fit me, this time. And even if they could fit me, the moment someone tries shoving me in it, I'm going full apeshit on them. Oh, but Taylor, you can't just- I don't care? There's Wards in Arcadia? I don't care?! It will out me? I don't care! The very first person that tries to bully me is getting my unrestrained fist at full speed right into their cranium. Consequences be damned!

It is these thoughts that lead me to almost swinging at a boy who just tapped my shoulder.

“Whoa! Whoa! Hey, relax, jeez!” The boy says, hands in the air doing a slow wave. “Just wanted to ask if you're new here, is all.” He explains himself calmly.

I look at my raised fist and slowly lower my arm. No need to startle him again. “Right, sorry, got kind of wound up. New school jitters and all,” I chuckle, “So where's the biggest guy around? I need to establish dominance real quick before I get shanked on my way between classes,” I joke. Whiiich by the looks of it doesn't register as a joke. Backpedal. Backpedal! “I'm uh… I'm joking, of course.” I smile at the increasingly nervous looking boy. Who I now realize might just be the biggest guy around. Yikes!

“Riiight. Uh, so you're really new? Just got transferred in the middle of the semester?” He asks again.

“Yeah, name's Taylor. You?” I move to shake his hand.

“It's Carlos, senior.” He says, shaking my hand energetically.

“Oh wow, already made yourself a Carlos junior, huh? You boys in Arcadia move fast” I try joking again.

“Uh- no, I mean-”

“I got it, your school year, not parental status,” I should just stop trying. It never worked before! Only Chelsea laughs at my jokes and even then, she's kind of a weirdo. “So what are you doing here, socializing with sophomores? Aren't you super busy with graduation exams?” I decide to ask, changing topics before I don't dig myself deeper into social exile.

“Oh! It's just- you know? Got curious. There's a sudden dozen transfers from another school today and nobody knows why. Thought you had some insider knowledge?” He chuckles. Ah. Right. What was I thinking? He didn't approach me to help him make a Carlos junior. Just idle curiosity.

“Well. I got transferred here cause the last time I was in Winslow, I got shoved inside a dumpster and set on fire.” He flinches HARD hearing that. And I realize I'm still holding his hand and I swear I heard a crunch. “Oh, shit! I'm so sorry!” Way to go, Taylor. Way to fucking go. 

“No worries, no worries. See?” Carlos pulls away his hand and gives it a couple squeezes. “It's all good.”

“Oh thank god. I'm really sorry about that. I shouldn't have brought it up,” Yeah, I shouldn't have. Why the fuck am I reminding myself of that day every time I have a chance to?

“No, no, I'm sorry for asking, really.” Okay this is getting out of hand. Goddamnit why did I not say that out loud? It's such a great pun!

“Uhhh, I'll just… I'll go. See you around, Carlos!” And I book it. No running inside the school, yes, but I can power walk! I hear Carlos shout something behind me but I'm already at the stairs, going down 4 steps at a time, ho-ly shit! I might have just outed myself! I'm so dead. I'm so toast. I enter my first class before the bell rings, ready for the PRT to arrive any minute now. Fuck! Just take me away and lock me up! Why am I such a failure?

Amy

Today was a great day. Dean didn’t come to school because he got hit by some tinkertech feminizing serum that Blasto and Bad Apple made. All Amy had to do was say “Oh, sorry! It’s tinkertech bullshit, can’t do anything about it. Guess she’s staying like that forever.” to wash her hands off that whole mess. It was a great day, before Vicky excused herself to go take care of her. Amy could have dealt with it herself! Just one touch! Just one goddamn touch! But she HAD to run her mouth and wish for his downfall. “Oh, Vicky isn’t gay, she won’t be interested in Dean anymore!” WRONG! She just likes Dean, apparently! Not just the Deanck! Ugh! When will she finally realize that they’re just not fit for each other?!

Carlos enters her periphery, passing their table to greet his friends.

“Hey! What’s up, C-man?” Says Dennis.

“Please never call me that ever again.” Deadpans Carlos, going to stand in line to the food. Chris waves at him too and goes back to picking at his potatoes. Right. His friends, that aren’t Amy. Cause Amy is not his friend. He’s friends with Vicky and only tangentially friendly with Amy cause Vicky always says they’re a package deal kind of friends. Which might be the only reason anyone greets her at school or asks how her day has been. But lately they stopped doing even that, given how Vicky spends more time with Dean. Her brooding mood is interrupted when Carlos slides next to her. “Hey, Amy, how has your day been?” He asks.

“Uhh, not bad.” Not great either, not anymore. Amy grumbles, looking gloomily at her salad.

“Listen, could you do me a solid and fix my arm, please?” He says, shaking his arm limply in the air. Oh, of course. Why else would you bother with social niceties with me? Amy reaches for it to see what’s wrong with it. There should be a reason he’s asking for healing. Amy frowns at the pulverized bones of Carlos’s hand.

Huh. How did he DO that? Isn’t he a low tier Brute? In fact, “How the hell did you get your arm crushed?” Amy asks him, to which he sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

“Uh, yeah, about that.” He beckons for Dennis and Chris to move closer and mutters, “I think there’s a new cape at school.” That got the young Wards’ full attention. “Uhh, I might have asked her about her trigger event by accident, which got me… that.” he points at the hand Amy’s healing. It didn’t take much effort to fix the bones back. But beating the muscles back into acting as muscles and not some weird calcified bone replacements took more time.

Chris inhales sharply at that, “Shhh, damn. I’m glad you only got your hand crushed, then. So, a Brute?” He asks. Hnn!!! Interesting! I wanna see them next! Maybe I could work on them when Taylor is unavailable! Like at school! Hn!

“Yeah. Introduced herself as Taylor. I invited her to sit with us at lunch but I’m not sure she agreed.” Carlos says. Ah. So it IS Taylor. She goes to Arcadia now? Oh right! She said she’s transferring soon! Hn hn! Even better!

And speaking of the devil, Amy sees Taylor entering the cafeteria! Amy stands up and waves her to the table. Taylor nods and stands in line to get her lunch, and soon enough, she’s sitting down on the other side. Amy eyes Carlos and Chris with no small hint of annoyance.

Taylor

Okay, Taylor. Don’t panic. You just crushed the hand of one of Amy’s friends. No big deal, not at all. He said it was fine, right? He flexed it in front of me! There is no way he could do that with shattered bones, so what? I just… rattled his bones? That’s it. I walk up to their table and sit on an empty spot opposite Amy’s. “Hey Amy, Dennis, hey Carlos.” I wince at him apologetically and he waves it off with a “pshh, forget about it,” which earns him a sharp jab in the ribs from Amy.

“Hey Tails,” Dennis greets me, “How’s Arcadia treating you so far?”

“It’s okay,” I say neutrally, “So I guess this is how high school was supposed to be.” I chuckle.

“Oof. Yeah, how’s your…” Dennis trails off, “You know.” Right. My medical condition. How is it, actually? I also want to know.

“It’s doing good. Great, even. I feel like we could flush it all out this week!” Says Amy after grabbing my wrist for a second. Holy shit!

I get congratulated by Dennis and a confused Carlos. Dennis then explains my situation and I can feel some sort of hesitation in his voice. I pull him away from others at the end of lunch. There was an unoccupied classroom. By the schedule printed on its door, they don’t have any classes on Monday afternoon.

“Gosh, Taylor, you move fast!” Gasps Dennis, “At least take me out to dinner first!” Ah, ugh, okay I need to explain myself.

“Do you have someone with a regularly incurable medical condition?” I ask, which plummets the mood in the room immediately.

“Uh, why would you think that?” He asks, less mirth in his voice.

“I kind of started suspecting when we met at the library.” I explain. “Your reaction to Amy’s words clued me in. And your mood shifts every time Amy or I talk about healing.”

He falls silent for a minute, two. He then sighs, “You’re a Thinker too huh?” Huh?? “You’re a cape, right?” What? How did he segue into that?

“Dennis, I’ll be glad to go into ADHD 50 tangents with you any day, I promise, but this is important.” I decide to say, trying to keep us on track. “Why are you hiding this from Amy?”

“Ugh, I don’t know, Taylor! She always looks so tired after she spends the last day healing that I can’t bring myself to give her extra work!” Is he for real?

“Are you being for real right now? Did you, maybe, ask for her opinion? Did you talk to her about it?”

“No! And I’m not going to! What kind of friend am I gonna be if I just go and ask her to do something she clearly hates?” Okay this is getting heated.

“She clearly doesn’t hate healing me,” I say. “And again. What you’re doing right now is deciding for her if she’d hate it or not. Just fucking ask!” And the room falls silent again, for what feels like a full five minutes.

“So… cape stuff.” Dennis tries again.

“Yes I’m a cape, Dennis. Looks like I can’t keep a fucking secret for one day.” He winces. “The bell’s about to ring. Have a nice rest of the day.” I say and pass by him. I see that Amy was waiting for me outside, trying to look like she isn’t curious about what we were doing. 

“So…”

“I’m gay, Amy, you know that. We just talked.” I say as a distraught looking Dennis exits the classroom. I point at him. “Do you think he’d look like THAT if we made out?” Amy stares at Dennis, then at me and weirdly goes red in the neck.

“Uh, yeah I don’t think he’d look like that if you made out.”

I inch towards her, a grin creeping up my face, “Wanna see how you would look if we made out? I think we have ten more minutes till the bell rings.” And now she’s fully red. Wow. Little tomato girl.

“Wait, what?” Asks Dennis. Ah, fuck. I forgot he’s still here. “You guys are dating?”

“Vicky didn’t tell you?” Asks Amy, still hiding behind her also red hands. Down, girl!

“Well, no. She kinda went no contact after… uh. Dean.” Dennis finishes, unsure.

“Oh, right.” Amy drops her hands, suddenly completely normal. “That fucker,” she mumbles under her nose and, louder, she says, ”Yeah, I feel like he should just accept that fact or… you know. Try regular medicine. HRT exists and works wonders, you know?” HUH?!

“Anyway, I’m happy for you, Ames!” Dennis beams, “Go get ‘er!” He says, and reaches to give Amy a high five. Amy huffs and reciprocates.

“Just don’t spread it around. We still live in nazi central.” She finally says, then looks at me and jumps a little. “I need to go now! I have classes on the other end of school!” And she rushes away.

“Well damn. There goes my makeout.” I blow a raspberry and clap Dennis on the shoulder, not forgetting to transfer all my toughness to my stud earring. He still buckles a little. “See you around, Den. And do talk to Amy!” And I rush off too.

Amy

She does NOT think about sloppy makeouts with Taylor as she rides the bus home! She does NOT! Absolutely DENIED! Turn off! Turn off the think machine! Right now! She tries thinking of literally anything else. The Sunday healing session did something to her. Oh god I wanna do it again but with Taylor. I wanna make poison glands. I want to remove her stripes and draw something else in their place. I wanna DO stuff. She fails miserably at trying to think about anything else until she reaches home. She lost the courage to ask Taylor to be openly experimented with because of her sudden lunch proposition. Damn you, Taylor. I’ll get you. One day! One day I’ll get you!

She gets home and feeds Mini Mark and takes him down to the ground floor to watch TV with. She strokes its fur like a Bond villain would with a white persian cat. She has… designs. Plans. But for one of them, she needs to prepare her dad. She can’t just offer him a pill out of the blue. And whatever she makes, the pill will taste different than his usual antidepressants for sure. But, on the other hand, he often forgets to drink them! Maybe he won’t be able to tell?

She eyes Mark the original sitting across her on the other couch. Yeah no, he’s a seasoned veteran AND he’s lived more than twice as long as Amy. But him not taking his antidepressant pills is an issue. She stands up abruptly and hands Mini Mark to Mark. “Here. Hold him. I named him after you.” She says when Mark raises an eyebrow.

“Since when do you have a pet? I must have missed it,” He says.

“I got it after three weeks of arguing with Carol. It was either the rat or I sneak a hamster into the house without her permission and we see how long the little thing survives before getting accidentally-ed by a vacuum cleaner.” She snorts remembering Taylor’s story. Phthoom indeed. “Well I didn’t say that word for word, but she got the gist and acquiesced.” She finishes and rushes up to the master bedroom. Mark keeps the pills on the vanity, it’s more accessible this way and he takes them more often if he can see them every morning, instead of forgetting it in a random sock drawer. She takes out two pills out of there and goes back down. In the kitchen, she takes a couple bottles of dye she’s bought beforehand. Food dye, that is. That she’s tested with a single pill before, to make sure no chemical reactions occur. Sitting back down in her seat, she gets out a magnifying glass and begins drawing on one of the pills using a toothpick.

That catches Mark’s interest. “What’chu doing there, kiddo?” He asks, clearly recognizing his pills.

“Drawing.” Amy answers succinctly. “You often forget to take them, right?” She asks. Mark doesn’t wince, but his smile lowers a little. “So, I thought. What if I draw cute pictures on them? I even made an order for food grade glitter. Did you know their prices went down real low?” She asks, finishing the outline of a cat. Now to color it.

“Oh!” His mood seems to improve a little. “So if I take my pills on time, I’ll see a cute drawing on each of them?”

“Yep. And I’ll draw for you each day.” Amy says, matter of factly. “I’ve read that this helps people take them more consistently.”

Mark stands up silently and sits down next to Amy on the couch, giving her a one armed hug. “Thank you, kiddo. I appreciate it.” Amy smiles into her hoodie and keeps drawing. This is trickery. I am fooling you for my evil plans. You are already in my grasp! And there is no escape!

Taylor

My school week passes with no accident. I’ve been waiting for some gotcha moment, when someone finally starts bullying me, singling me out. But that moment didn’t come. Instead, Amy has avoided me the entire week, squeaking like Mini Mark and rushing away each time she saw me. That hurt. Did I come off too strong? I kinda said that jokingly, but I’ll keep my distance anyway.

Chelsea found herself a place and is moving away despite dad’s insistence for her to stay. I feel like he tried to play wingman for me but sorry dad, I’m kind of taken. And I’m preeetty sure Chelsea’s straight. And she reminds me of Emma too much to even consider dating her without having like six strokes a day from trying to kiss her.

On Thursday morning I get a message from Chelsea about a new cape running around Little Japan. The cape has had a fight with Oni Lee and cut three of his toes off. Chelsea needs my opinion. Do we recruit her? That’ll make us irrevocable enemies with Lung. But it’s not like we were planning on staying peaceful with anyone. When you’re a villain, anyone who’s not with you is against you. So I give her a go ahead and Chelsea sends “On the lookout then,” eye emoji eye emoji eye emoji.

On Friday evening, I get another message from her. “New cape raiding a knife factory in town outskirts.” We had a fucking knife factory? I look it up and yep. An hour’s drive away from us and Boston is Ayer, a tiny town with a population of around 6 thousand. Most known for strong railroad infrastructure. Wow. Okay. I get costumed up, take off in a run towards downtown and find a car that has secret or non-secret nazi symbols, hotwire it and drive away. When I’m ten minutes away, Chelsea sends me a message that the cape has entered the factory and that she’s about to approach her. Godspeed, Chelsea, I hope you’re a much better negotiator than I.

Chelsea

Chelsea fucked up. She could have waited till the cape came out of the factory but then, the cape could have escaped from the other side. So waiting for her inside sounded like the best course of action at the time. Instead, when Chelsea appeared from behind all the heavy duty machinery, the cape took a defensive stance and rushed Chelsea, giving her no time to speak.

The cape was dressed rather similar to Taylor. More angular and rough metal mask strapped with welding mask straps. A rubber apron filled with blades over a brown polyester-cotton shirt and brown pants of the same material. What looks like elbow-length black rubber gloves and knee high rubber boots. Her straight raven hair gathered in a bun. Oh, Chelsea sees the theme now, as she sees a glinting open hand flying at her. She dodges to the side and sprays the cape, making her slip and fall.

“Hey, listen, I just wanna talk! I want to invite you to our little gang. We-” She manages to say before the cape somehow finds purchase and stands up, rushing back towards her. How? Her hands whistle through the air with an unnatural sound. She sends a wide pick and Chelsea grows an ice shield to block it, only for the foot to cleave through the shield and nick her retreating hand. Chelsea shoots a beam at the floor, making its entire surface slippery. But the cape sets her feet down firmly, making loud scraping sounds across the floor, sparks flying from her soles. Oh! She’s scraping away the slippery surface and standing on the peeled ground.

“Are you listening?” Chelsea tries again, which earns her another whip kick that she dodges this time. “Okay. That’s it.” She forms two clubs and rushes to the cape. The first strike proves her theory that the girl’s clothes are covered in some bladestuff. Whatever it is, even flat surfaces on her body can cut anything that touches it. This is why she made two clubs. While she’s landing her second strike on the unreasonable cape’s swinging hand, she’s pulling her other arm back and forming another club in it. She keeps that up, striking the cape’s shoulders, elbows, knees. She forms a heavy ice boot over her regular boot to kick her in the stomach as the cape tries bear-hugging her. The cape falls into a crate, crushing it under her. A veritable ton of knife blades spill out of it and Chelsea can see a faint smoke flying off the knives and into the girl. She then reaches behind her and removes her scrunchie. Her black hair falls on her back and gains a dangerous glint. The next time she rushes over, her freeflying hair doesn’t give Chelsea space to attack her joints.

Chelsea begins retreating, forming clouds of snow and mist behind her, obscuring the other cape but giving her less avenues for attack. Jumping behind a conveyor line, she forms a warhammer along her body length and sends a windup swing towards the girl, sending her flying again. This time, she crashes into the machinery, sending sparks flying. Chelsea uses her daze to approach her and put a foot-thick coating of ice on her limbs. “Listen. It’s not that bad, I tell you! Boss is cool and gives nice benefits!”

“Like I’d join any of those filthy gangs! Don’t even try to sugarcoat your damn recruitment pitch. I will kill all of you!” She says as her binds split into dozens of chunks. Before Chelsea can reach to reapply them, the girl blows air, the mouth of her mask suddenly getting covered in deep scratch marks, and Chelsea gets a faceful of razor sharp air. What the fuck?! She rushes away from the girl and covers her face. Yep. Her mask is full of scratches and her neck got cut a couple times. God bless Taylor’s upgrades. Chelsea feels like she’d be missing a fairly bigger chunk of flesh if she was baseline human-tough.

The girl grabs a rope spool at her feet and ties something to its end. The rope starts glinting like metal as she sends its end flying towards Chelsea in a wide swing down. Chelsea creates a yard wide flat disk to redirect the rope, if not block it completely, and sends it flying like a frisbee towards the girl, who blocks the disk using the rope. Okay. I’m kind of running out of non-lethal options here. Thinks Chelsea, forming throwing knives between her fingers. She’s never practiced, but there’s no time better than the present! Even if she misses with half, and the girl dodges half again, some will still land! And they do, catching the girl on the thigh. She hears the girl’s teeth grind as she soldiers on despite the injury and rushes towards her, swinging the rope again.

Chelsea beams the ground again, sliding away from the girl as she keeps throwing knives at her. That’s when the girl falls. Oh yeah! Victory! Chelsea thinks as her entire foot that was closest to the girl gets covered in cuts. She jumps back, leaving the remains of her mangled boot behind, already forming boots of ice. The girl has her palm to the ground and Chelsea can see metallic lines spread across the floor towards her. That’s when a car crashes through the wall and slams into a steel beam and instantly turns to dust. Finally! Cavalry's here!

Taylor

I exit the dust cloud and see Chelsea with one boot missing, bloody foot in a block of ice, the other cape covered in tiny knives sticking out of her. Smart! Don’t take them out or the bleeding will get worse! But also, that’s frozen oxygen and she’s gonna get deeper frostbite if the fight goes on. Well, that doesn’t matter. I stand besides Chelsea. “So, negotiations didn’t pan out?”

“No, instant hostility. She can make any surface sharp and got some mad flexibility. Also watch out for her breath. It’s sharp too, like holy fuck.” She caresses her neck and I notice a trail of blood there. Uh oh. I touch her and pump Durability into her until her wounds turn from “tis just a scratch” to “tis for real just a scratch”.

“Okay. Listen. There seems to be some misunderstanding.” I begin, standing between Chelsea and the girl. “We’re a new gang. We’re not Empire, we’re clearly not ABB, I don’t think we look like mercenaries, drug junkies or game characters, no?” She seems to consider her chances against the two of us, sees how Chelsea’s body language relaxed upon seeing me, and decides to run. I nip that idea in the bud by stomping on the floor and making her fall seven feet down the hole, bumping her chin on a floor edge on the way down. “Now, I don’t want to force you into the team. But admit it. It’s gonna be much safer to not be solo anymore and be a part of a gang that doesn’t suck ass more than a classical gang would.” I slide down the hole and approach her, arm outstretched towards her. “Think about it. If you refuse, I promise to let you leave here in one piece.”

The girl looks at my arm and moves to slap it away, but hesitates. “How can I be  sure you’re not some Empire schmucks?!” She finally asks. “O- or ABB capes Lung hid somewhere as a reserve force?”

“You think either of these groups would ever hide any advantage they can get?” Chelsea asks from behind me, feet dangling off the edge of the hole. “The moment they get new members, they’re gonna flaunt them for all the world to see. Image. It’s important for big gangs like them. That’s why others keep low profile. They don’t have the firepower enough to combat the bigger fish, so they take advantage of their obscurity and hide their numbers. Because they truly benefit from surprising the enemy.”

“So you’re one of the smaller gangs?” She asks.

“Not the established ones.” I say. “I want to start a new one. Hold territory, place my own rules on the land. And make people follow them. Like Marquis used to. No open drug trade, no lynching, no muggings. No open crime at all.”

She scoffs, “And how are you gonna earn money?”

“Protection. I think shops would benefit greatly from not associating with nazis or sex traffickers. We’ll offer fair prices and don’t stifle local businesses. We’ll trade drugs still, just not openly. Not to kids.” That would be ideal. I’ll just have to make an example out of those who break my rules.

“If I find out you’re lying, I’m lining your intestines with razor wire.” She says after careful deliberation. I bark out a laugh.

“Trust me, you’re the second cape who threatened to do something to my digestive tract.” She glances at Chelsea and Chelsea makes a peace sign, her tongue sticking out of her half-broken mask. “I take it, you want to join?”

“Heh, ‘want’.” She huffs and grabs my hand. “I’m Cutting Edge.”

“Welcome to the Tough Crowd, CE, I’m Durasteal.” I turn to Chelsea.

“Already introduced myself.” Cutting Edge tilts her head, already having forgotten her name, “... I’m Chillax. Also, Tough Crowd?” She turns to me, questioningly. Right. Well, that’s what Assault called us that one time and I thought it was hilarious and very fitting. “You’re asking for the “joke villain” label.”

“I know. Makes people underestimate us. Cutting Edge fits our vibes perfectly.” I say.

“Hey!” CE protests. “It’s a cool name!”

“So, CE, wanna get to know us in civvies?” I ask.

She looks between me and Chelsea. “Yeah, fuck it. You guys sound more appealing than the other pieces of shit, lesser evil and all.” She takes off her mask to reveal a vietnamese teenager. “I’m Anh. Nguyen Thuy Anh... or just Anh. Not like that surname matters anymore.” To my questioning head tilt, she explains, “Lung and Hookwolf kind of… barreled through my home. With my family in it. I’m the only survivor, and even then I went into a full night coma. Panacea healed me up.” Oh. Yeah. That’ll do it.

“Well,” I take off my mask, “I’m Taylor Hebert. Not much trauma in my life. Just, you know. The usual. Got lynched by nazis, thrown in a dumpster and set on fire.” Oh fucking amazing, tell her your entire sob story, Taylor! Just fucking POUR it!

“Are we trauma dumping? I’m next!” Chelsea pipes up. “Chelsea Chatham,” She claps Anh’s shoulder. And ain’t that a wonderful fucking name? “Mommy and daddy were villains with kill orders, their civvies got outed and I was hunted for sport by every John and Jane in town when I was a kid! Got fake docs when I was 10-ish, joined foster care under a fake identity and got emancipated recently and decided to go on a world trip. Didn’t work out, and now I’m in BB!” Well. That’s more info than I knew. 

“So you’re a second gen cape?” Anh asks.

“Yep,” She pops the p.

“Cool, cool. Who’re your parents?” 

“That would be telling.” Chelsea wags her finger and jumps back up to the ground floor.

“Yeah, let’s leave the in depth trauma dumping to when we’re back in town. Do you have a place to stay?” I ask, already planning to take another stray.

“She can stay with me. I got two rooms for that reason exactly.” Chelsea offers.

“What if our next recruit was actually Trainwreck?”

“Eh, I’d veto him anyway.” She shrugs. “I was hoping to get Rosary or Dovetail as our next teammate, but they’re still heroes. Ugh.” Huh.

“So, religious capes are your thing?”

“No, but I can fix them. I can make them see god in a different way,” She winks at me in an exaggerated manner and I fake a retching motion as we exit the factory. I guess that answers my question about her sexuality. Also wow, what do you call reverse anti-atheism? Anti-theism?

When we reached the empty parking lot, I realized I dusted our transport home and there's thirty five miles between here and Brockton Bay. Oh, fuck me. No more dramatic entrances! No more!