Tuesday, April 15th, 2009.

Class ended in five minutes and all I could think, was that it could not be over fast enough. There was not anything terribly wrong with the place in truth, I just happened to hate being trapped inside all day.

Arcadia High was a relatively famous high school, at least to those who lived within Brockton Bay. The high school was located inside the downtown area, playing host to roughly two-thousand-five-hundred students. A large but otherwise normal high school, the thing that stood out about it was that Arcadia boasted exactly two superhero teams. The Wards and New Wave, for those not already in the know.

Arcadia did not have any quality that was inherently amazing, although it was the nicest public school in Brockton Bay by far. The reason the two teams of superheros had chosen it was that it just so happened to be awfully close to the central business district. The Ward's headquarters happened to be located close by, in a branch of the Parahuman Response Team building. It made it easy for the mysterious heroes in the Wards to get to there equipment quickly when they were sometimes called to action during the day.

The school itself cultivated a very professional demeanour; the staff affected the attitudes of successful business-folk. The teachers were all young, confident and dressed in suits. The students had been made to follow pattern with black business trousers or skirts, white long-sleeved shirts, black dress shoes, and black ties. If I was being honest, I thought they all looked like tiny little CEO's in training. My own stick thin limbs removed any chance of capitalising on the same qualities, much to my dismay.

I was currently staring at the back of the newest transfer student who was seated directly in front of me. Transferring right in the middle of the year, how tricky of them. Arcadia was always shuffling new students into the school at odd times of the year. Sometimes it was just a normal kid, sometimes it was a hidden cape. They did it to throw us off the scent, at least he thought so. You could never really tell which was which. The new kid had bright red hair, pale white skin and a mottled strip of freckles across his face. I toyed with the idea of whether he might be a secret cape, mentally trying to match him against any of those heroes he had seen running around the city.

Triumph, Aegis and Vista, they were the three Brockton Bay Wards. This new guy was not Vista, seeing as she was only five feet tall, and a girl I suppose. It was also unlikely that he was Aegis, given that the hero had a much darker skin tone. Which of course only left Triumph, It could be him, but it probably was not. The kids build was all wrong, given that Triumph was a rather big guy with broad shoulders and bright blond hair. This red-haired kid was rather slim, and very red-haired, possibly a wig?

Triumph had been a Ward for more than a year at this point with my best estimate. Surely, they must have already snuck him into Arcadia by now. Unless they were playing the long con and today was the day that they brought him in. I sighed explosively as I came to the unsatisfying conclusion that this dude obviously was not one of the Wards.

Over the last couple of years I had spent a lot of time trying to figure out who might secretly be a cape, but I have never had confirmation one way or another. New Wave, on the other hand was a much easier mystery to solve, they were not even trying to keep their identities hidden. Long before they had rebranded, they used to be called the Brockton Bay Brigade, the reason for the change was still unclear, at least to me.

Each of the younger members had been announced within what had to of been weeks of gaining their powers and three of those same capes were currently enrolled at Arcadia, the fourth being young enough to still attend middle school. Crystal Pelham, Laserdream. Victoria Dallon, Glory Girl. Amy Dallon, Panacea. Eric Pelham, Shielder. Crystal was a year above me while Amy and Victoria were both in the year below me. Eric was the youngster, but I had no doubt he would eventually end up here as well.

It was remarkably strange that so many young capes had ended up in the same school, at least I thought so. Then again, for all I knew, there might have been many more capes hidden amongst the student body, heroes, villains or rouges, anyone of these kids could be hiding powers. I had no choice but to consider the possibility, I was one of them, after all.

I always found myself heading deeper into the CBD after school finished for the day. I found a strange interest in people watching and finding a bench or a spot by a wall allowed plenty of opportunity indulge myself. Today was no exception either, people wandered past with only the occasional glance in my direction, going about their business. Shopping, meeting with lovers, families sharing an early meal or even groups of friends mingling by one of the movie theatres. I watched them all curiously, as the sun slowly disappeared behind the tall buildings, and the sky grew dark.

There was an obvious correlation between the crowds thinning out as the night grew later, and I watched them all disappear until only the brave few remained. Nobody wanted to be still out on the streets too long after dark, especially not in Brockton Bay of all places, it just was not worth the risk. Eventually I lost interest, and I hopped off the wall I was sitting on, taking a moment to pull my hood up.

I headed in the direction of the nearest bus stop, feeling rather peaceful, but barely five minutes had passed before a strange sound caught my ear. A steady rhythm almost like a lumberjack chopping away at a pile of wood, each muffled thump was accompanied by an exclamation of pain.

"Ah! Stop! Get off! Fuck! Fuck! Stop it! Fuck!" The voice was male I noted, and strangely enough it sounded more surprised than pained.

I leaned backwards to peer down the alleyway I had just passed by, to see a very strange sight. A man in a long white coat lay on the ground while another man struggled with his legs, a roll of duct tape in his hand. A third man was busy launching a steady stream of kicks into the trapped man's midsection, one after another in a strange way. The man would draw his foot back, pause for a second before sinking it into his gut, pause for a second and then repeat, it was strangely clinical.

Behind the three men, the alleyway branched off out of sight and I could just see the rear end of a white van peeking out from the corner, engine still running. The three of them all wore the same white lab coats, and they each had the builds of men who had spent more time seated behind a desk than those you would find outside performing physical labour.

How mysterious.

"What on earth are you doing?" I spoke down the alley, loud enough for them all to hear.

The man with the duct tape in his hand shot to his feet, before pointing his finger directly at me in complete shock. The other man peeked around his shoulder with wide eyes, and I watched as his lab coat fell open. He had a harness of some kind strapped to his chest, and I spotted a flash of silver before the man pulled it closed.

A gun.

"Ah!" The pointing man said, looking worried and upset. "Get out!"

"Get out?" I asked strangely, blinking at the man.

"The Alley! Get out of the Alley!" He shouted, finger practically vibrating in alarm. I stared at him for a long moment, completely bewildered.

"Are you kidnapping him?" I asked curiously before glancing down at the man on the ground.

He had not moved much, other than to tilt his head up to look at me, but he looked as surprised as the other two. The man with the gun was still holding him against the ground, foot planted firmly on his chest. The pointing man looked even more flustered at the question.

"Of course not!" He said nervously.

The man with the gun was slowly reaching into his coat, how very sneaky of him.

"I'm thirty-two, so technically this is an abduction not a kidnapping." The man on the ground said weakly, still struggling to draw air into his lungs.

The man stopped reaching into his coat for a moment, unable to contain his disbelief.

"Shut up, Gaston!" The man said furiously, before pushing his foot down on the man's chest as if to punctuate his point, and Gaston let out a long wheeze in response.

The man turned back before suddenly whipping his hand out of his coat and brandishing the gun in my direction. The pointing man hurriedly stepped back out of the line of fire, looking even more alarmed. The gun glinted dangerously, once.

I was not as concerned as you might have thought, given how the situation looked. I had already taken steps to stack the deck in my favour before I had even stepped into the alley.

"Sorry kid. Wrong place, wrong time." The gunman spoke, putting on airs.

It was a rather good line in truth, but his voice was thin and reedy, so it fell short of being intimidating.

The man became noticeably still suddenly, before letting out a muffled grunt. Five seconds passed before the gunman grunted again and the man with the duct tape turned to him.

"Aren't you going to shoot him?" He asked nervously, before waiting for a response, but the gunman held his silence.

"Martin?" He tried again, before reaching out and touching him on the shoulder.

He looked down at his fingers strangely, before rubbing them together, as if he could somehow achieve synaesthesia through force of will alone. Martin slowly began to rise off the ground and let out a grunt of alarm. The other man yelped before grabbing Martin's leg in a complete panic. He began trying to pull Martin downwards and climb upwards at the same time shouting all the while. The prone man just stared up at them with his mouth open wide.

I started laughing, unable to help myself, the entire situation was so strange. Scientists abducting other scientists. What exactly had I stumbled on? I managed to pull myself together after a moment, belatedly thinking about whether any of them could see my face in the darkness. My hood was still pulled up from earlier and it was rather dark, the only light source being the red taillights of the van in the alley. My back was to the nearest streetlight, so my face was completely shadowed. I think my identity was safe for now.

I paused for a moment, before generating some wire to cover my face anyway, there was no point in taking chances after all.

"Gaston?" I asked the man on the ground and he wrenched his torso around to face me as best he could with his feet still taped together.

"Yes! I'm Gaston!" Gaston said excitedly, scrabbling at the tape and doing his best to find the end of it. He gave up after a moment and then slapped his hand against the bulk of it.

"Can you help me out of this?" Gaston asked sheepishly.

I snorted at the man before a wire appeared from behind my shoulder. It glinted in the streetlight before darting towards Gaston and snaking under the duct tape, slicing it open without issue. Gaston fought his way free of the tapey mess, and I glanced back to the other two to check their progress. The pointing man had managed to climb about half a Martin high, and his lab coat hung limply beneath him as he onto Martin's arm like a limpet.

Martin was still slowly rising into the air, in the same strained pose as before and when he was lift into a beam of light from the street, it was revealed that he was covered in thousands of thin glinting wires. They were pulled taut and extended off in every direction, Gaston looked up at my work in total awe.

I am so god damned cool, I thought, before Martin suddenly dropped the gun. It fell through the air before landing with a metallic thunk on the concrete. It fired once and flipped over from the force. Gaston yelped and ducked down, covering his head with his hands. I simultaneously tried to jump backwards and pull myself towards the nearest wall. Instead, I accomplished neither of those things, instead lurching backwards and flopping solidly onto my back. I kept the momentum going as best I could and rolled straight back to my feet before slapping my hand against the wall to steady myself.

I studied everything for a moment with adrenaline rushing through my body, but there were no cries of pain, no blood, and no injuries, everyone was unharmed.

Tape-guy suddenly lost his grip on Martin and fell flat on his back on the floor of the alleyway.

Gaston cowered; Martin grunted. I sighed.

It took about ten minutes to finish up the situation in the alleyway and make my way to the bus stop. I was patting myself on the back for another job well done. I left Martin and Tape-guy on the corner of the street, tied together to a lamp post. They were mostly uninjured, I say mostly because Tape-guy hit his head when he fell, so it is entirely possible that he has a concussion. Martin, in a strange twist of fate, had injured his foot while kicking Gaston.

Gaston, what a name, the man's arms had been dirty and bruised from trying to defend himself, but other than that he was relatively unharmed. Before I could ask him anything about how he had gotten into the situation in the first place the man had dashed away, but not before thanking my profusely.

Gaston had been so excited to be free of his captors he had tripped over on his way out of the alley, falling all the way down to his hands and knees before he had caught himself.

I did not realize that I had lost my wallet until the bus driver told me in no uncertain terms, that I would not be getting on the bus without paying. Asshole.

I had quickly returned to the scene of the crime assuming that I must have dropped it at some point, but the police were already there no doubt having responded to the gunshot in the middle of the CBD. I checked the alley from a distance with wires, but my wallet must have grown legs and walked away because it was not there. I traced my path all the way back to the wall I had been sitting at earlier, and then even further back to Arcadia in a futile hope that I might have lost it sometime earlier in the day.

Neither hide nor hair of my wallet was ever found that dark and stormy night, so it looks like I was going to have to walk home. Fuck.

It was several hours before I finally arrived at home, surprisingly unmolested by the dark underbelly of Brockton Bay. Was it skill, cunning or charm that had granted me safe passage? Probably all three, but who could truly know.

Brockton bay was a scary place at night for the unpowered, and honestly it was not much better during the day. Anybody that decided to traipse about willy-nilly in the dark deserved to get shanked. There were junkies, gangs, and killers roamed the streets, not to mention the caped assholes running around blowing shit up whenever they pleased.

Empire Eighty-Eight, the AZN Bad Boys, the Merchants, Chorus, all cape gangs that had their own territories, rules and goals and not a shred of restraint between the lot of them. It had been a quiet night after that first encounter, and I did not need to stop any more abductions, in fact the worst thing I saw on the way home was someone texting and driving. Can you imagine being that guy? What an asshole.

Speaking of assholes; I spotted Gaston looking about as bruised and battered as when I last saw him, as I stepped into my one-bedroom apartment, he was sitting at my kitchen table with his lab coat folded neatly beside him. Gaston was also shovelling a bowl of my cereal into his mouth with a spoon, my spoon. He waved at me cheerfully, completely unashamed, and I paused at the threshold of the room, frowning at him.

"There better be some milk left." I said completely annoyed.

Gaston nodded happily and pointed towards the fridge with my spoon, still chewing. I made my way over to the fridge and poured myself some cereal, took a moment to drown it in milk before sitting down at the table across from him. I took a mouthful of the cereal with my second favourite spoon, chewing idly for a moment.

"What can I do for the strange man that is eating cereal in my kitchen?" I asked curiously, after swallowing noisily.

Gaston grinned at me, before launching into a gripping tale of adventure, danger, and a daring escape. He told me that he had helped build something terrible, something that would change the world as we knew it. But once they had finished, he had a change of heart and quickly tried to destroy it.

Gaston told me about how he was a good man once, and how he wished to become a good man once more. He told me how he wished to save the girl that he loved that he would go to the ends of the earth and spare no resource.

Gaston told me how he had fought off twenty men, each as tall as they were wide, with guns for hands and swords for feet. He told me how they had caught him in an alleyway and that he had barely managed to fight his way free of the ambush.

I stared at the man for a long while, it certainly was not exactly how I remembered the event.

"Gaston," I said evenly, "You are so full of shit, it's coming out of your ears."

Gaston grinned at me, and I took a moment to eat another spoonful of cereal.

"What has this got to do with me?" I asked curiously.

"I need your help and It's kind of important." Gaston said it like we are old buddies and that he had not just broken into the apartment of a fifteen-year-old boy.

I heard him out.

It turns out that Gaston is the former assistant of a cape, specifically a Tinker called String Theory. Tinker's, for those who are unaware, is a 'superpower' that allows someone to make crazy technology, like laser guns and power armour. Tinker-tech, as far as I was aware, is nearly always incomprehensible to non-tinkers. It is generally either unable to be replicated or maintained without the person who made it, or just too much effort to try and do so in the first place.

"String Theory?' I said thoughtfully, 'Isn't she that villain that blows things up? Are you actually an evil henchman?" I accuse, giving him the side eye.

Were Martin and Tape-guy the good guys? Were they secretly heroes with names like Baskin and Robbins? Were they heroically abducting a villain's evil minion? Had I doomed Brockton Bay with my own heroic actions?

Gaston paused for a moment, before pretending that I had not spoken at all. Damn, nobody can be an asshole like Gaston. His job had apparently consisted of acquiring materials, buying equipment, setting up work sites, hiring people and generally delegating tasks to the peons (he actually called them that.)

It turns out that String Theory has just finished making her newest exploding masterpiece. Something she has decided to call a G-Driver. What a stupid sounding name, I thought.

Gaston just looked at me, waiting patiently.

"Gee Gaston, what's a G-Driver?" I asked cheerfully.

His eyes lit up and he jumped straight into a lecture about String Theory's creation, making sure to punctuate every word with grand gestures of my spoon.

"So a G-driver blows shit up." I say loudly, cutting him off at the two-minute mark, while stroking my non-existent beard in understanding. Truly, I am unfathomably wise.

"It's way more complicated than that!" Gaston said in a wounded tone. "You can't just-"

"That's really interesting," I continue loudly, talking over him while still stroking my face. Gaston deflates under my complete disinterest in the minutia.

"Anything else important?" I ask idly, "When is she doing it and what's her target this time?"

This G-Driver and the rest of String Theory's Tinker-tech apparently come packaged with a countdown timer which starts the moment the device begins to be built, how strange. Stringy has been around for a long enough time to have figured out how to game her power a little bit, which is an interesting tid-bit.

Buy all the tools, equipment and materials needed for a build in advance, setup the workshop, secure it before building the device in one session, the device is aimed at its target during the process. All that is left for them to do afterwards is wait out the countdown, a countdown that has already started.

6 days 5 hours and 30 minutes before String Theory blows up the moon.

"Why does String Theory want to blow up the moon?" I ask, resignedly.

Why would you even help someone blow up the moon, maybe I should have let Martin get a few extra kicks in on this idiot. Gaston's eyes were unfocused, as if he were remembering something from the distant past.

"Art." Gaston says grandly, stirring his now soggy cereal. "She views her work as a form of art, and she wants to show it to the world." Gaston clarified, when I gave him a look of confusion.

"Okay then," I said strangely, as if that explains anything. "Crazy lady wants to make art. Fine. I can accept that. Why did you help her? Why did you stop helping her?"

He refocused on the present and turned to look me straight in the eye. A gust of wind blew through the window and ruffled his hair.

"Because I love her." Gaston declares in a smooth voice.

Jesus Christ. Is this guy from an anime? I quickly get up and shut the window, there will be none of that epic wind shit in my house. Gaston patiently waits for me to sit back down but when I start to reply he talks right over the top of me. Asshole.

"I have to stop her because I love her. If she uses the G-Driver she will be sent to the Birdcage. If that happens, I will never see her again." Gaston says, sounding anguished at the thought.

I watched as he clenched his hands tightly into fists, like he was trying to squeeze the feels away.

"I won't let that happen." Gaston declares determinedly.

"Dude," I look at him in disbelief. "Your girlfriend is going to blow up the moon. In six days."

"I love her." Gaston continued like he had not even heard my protest.

I see his hair ruffle slightly and my gaze snaps to the window, but it is still shut. Spooky.

"You wouldn't understand, you've never been in love." Gaston holds his head in his hands, but I could see him peeking out at me from behind his fingers.

I lean back in my chair, he is wrong thought, I understand simply fine. I was in love once, a long time ago, the date was March 12th, 2009, back when my heart was still capable of such a thing, back before the betrayal. Before I caught my first crush giving Thomas Payton a hand job in the park. Thirty-four days ago, time has muted the pain, but I try not to dwell on it. I know exactly how he is feeling, so I look Gaston dead in the eyes and give him my answer.

"Hell no!" I say righteously. The words come out like a sharp thrust, rapid and without mercy. "This has nothing to do with me. Why are you even in my house?"

His anime-esque determination instantly turns into the sads and I am momentarily left feeling like I have kicked a puppy, but within seconds he has already bounced back. I can seem him visibly steeling himself for something.

"I didn't want to do this," Gaston declares, pointing the spoon in his hand at me threateningly.

Milk drips down from the spoon onto the table.

"I need your help, Andy Bowman." Gaston says evenly, before taking his other hand from his pocket and placing my missing wallet on the table. "Otherwise known as, Urchin."

I stare him down without a shred of emotion on my face. I knew he had figured it out as soon as I saw him in my kitchen, there was no other reason for him to have been in my house after all. He knew I was a cape, and he knew my civilian identity. It was possible that Gaston himself was a cape, either a Thinker or a Tinker. Has he told anyone else? Am I currently in danger? Do I need to move to a new city, change my name and become the R-rated cape, 'Bondage?!' Gaston would need to die, of course, nobody could know that the confident, daring and attractive Andy Bowman was secretly the confident, daring and attractive rogue, Urchin.

Over the next fifteen seconds, I slowly let an expression of rage overcome my face. At the eleven-second mark, Gaston was starting to look uncomfortable, but he waited patiently for me to charge up.

"You total asshole Gaston!" I yelled, lashing out and crossing my spoon against his own in an instant.

A power struggle not unlike an arm-wrestling contest began. Milk from both spoons was flung from the point of impact, tiny droplets splashing against the tabletop. How could he do this to me? After I went out of my way to save him. I beat up Martin and Tape-guy for this asshole, the betrayal stings. It is almost like the Thomas Payton incident all over again.

"You would betray me, after everything we've been through?" I silently generate wires under my sleeve and wrapped them tightly around my arm to give me a slight strength advantage.

I push the spoons inexorably towards Gaston, I am inevitable.

Gaston struggles to hold me back, before quickly switching to a two-handed grip and sliding his feet into a better position. The kitchen table weathers our combat stoically as he uses the additional leverage, he gained to force me back an inch. The spoons shake violently, so this is the power of a scientist.

I stand abruptly, forcing him backwards until his chair only has two legs on the ground. Milk sloshes over the edge of his bowl from the sheer forcefulness of my advance, my own bowl remains empty.

"What do you mean everything we've been through?" Gaston pleads, his teeth gnashed together as he struggles to hold me off. He prepares to play his final card, but it is far too late, he desperately hooks his foot under the lip of the table, barely holding back the spoons an inch from his face. "We've only just met!"

I watch him struggle for a moment; from where does he draw such desperate strength? Is it the power of love or the depths of his hatred? Either way he makes for a pitiful sight as he was, covered in milk, cereal, face bright red from the exertion.

"It's over Gaston. I have the high ground." I tell him quietly, and it feels like closure.

"Wait!" Gaston yelps as I tip him over backward and he lands on the floor with a cacophony of falling utensils, furniture, and milk.

"I'll pay you." Gaston finishes lamely from the floor.

"Deal." I agree immediately, money is awesome.

"I haven't even said how much." Gaston says strangely, still lying flat on his back like a deranged turtle.

Gaston struggles into a sitting position, and I realise that I need to make a play before he retakes control of the negotiations.

"Twenty-Five-Thousand. Cash. Upfront." I say coolly. "In one of those cases, like the movies."

He looks at me in surprise but does not hesitate to agree to the amount. I squint at him suspicious, he agreed way too quickly, he did not even try to haggle. Have I somehow made a terrible mistake? Gaston pushes himself to his feat and quickly shakes my hand.

"No take-backsies." Gaston says with a grin.

Fuck, I think I have been had there is a very real chance that this bastard has just totally scammed me. I should have asked for at least double. Gaston's got more than a decade of experience on me at least, I will have to draw upon all my cunning to stay ahead of this guy.

Gaston picks the chair back up and reseats himself at the table, and I join him after a moment, the mess remains on the floor untouched. Gaston steeps his hands in front of his face like he is Gendo-Fucking-Ikari, before reaching up and adjusting his non-existent glasses with a single finger.

I can almost see the glint.

"Alright Boss. How are we going to do this?" I ask professionally, business face rigidly attached. Urchin the Rogue has evolved into Urchin the Mercenary, bitchin.

Gaston outlines the basic plan and it is quite simply. We need to destroy the G-Driver before the countdown reaches zero, while keeping in mind lose conditions. String Theory has apparently taken steps to secure the facility.

If we are detected whilst entering, there are explosive devices hidden that she can activate remotely and start blowing shit up in the city. Three of them, if you want an exact count, spread out across the downtown and commercial districts each with a big enough yield to level a city block at least.

Additionally, If we set off the alarms while breaking in, the facility's defences will activate, meaning we will need to fight out way in, and out. String theory will likely set off the bombs and then the heroes will respond to all the shit blowing up in the city. String Theory will most likely be the prime suspect, seeing as she has used bombs in the past and she recently announced that Brockton Bay was her next destination.

The heroes will then come down of her like the fist of God, an obvious lose condition. The G-Driver would be discovered, String Theory would get sent to the Birdcage and Gaston's dreams would be shattered.

So to summarize, it is a stealth mission. Our objectives are clear; Avoid detection, destroy the G-Driver, disarm the bombs and capture String Theory.

I really should have asked for more money.

Authors Note(old):
Hi, I have written some things over the past couple of years, but I have always ended up deleting them. I have decided I would finally post something online and hopefully; I will improve a lot in the process. There is nowhere to go but up after all. The Urchin King is a story that takes place in Brockton Bay. The first arc will begin in the year 2009. Eventually, it will reach the day canon Worm begins. I have built a timeline and taken some liberties with some of the canon characters and groups that existed but were not shown or had a brief appearance. You will not be seeing most of them for a while. If something looks particularly off, please tell me and I will investigate it. I am about 8 chapters ahead now, with a second arc already planned out.

Authors Note (30/04/2020): Rewriting the earlier chapters as I have found my writing has improved a great deal in the grammar department. Although how much of that was me writing in notepad, I have no idea.