Who likes Worm? I like Worm. Special thanks to SB and Roarian for general betaing.

Extraction 1.1

I woke up, and everything hurt.

My body was on fire and freezing and electrified, hairs on end and everything I knew was pain, words struggling to erupt from my throat, but they couldn't.

"Hey hey heyyyyyyyy! You can't move around yet, I'm not done! Ugh, I hate hate haaaaate when they wake up earlier! They always give up waaaaaay too soon!"

My eyes moved, and skin that was no longer there paled. A small girl with a wide grin looked at me curiously, holding a saw in her hand, a too large white lab coat covered in blood over her body. My blood, if there was any left inside of me, went cold. I'd heard stories of villains like this, people so wrapped in their own madness that they do terrible, horrible things. The sort of people my mom would use when I was little to get me to go to bed.

"Be good and go to sleep, or the villains will take you away!"

"Woweee you've got some pain tolerance, huh? Most people black out or die already!"

I tried to speak again, the words bubbling past my lips with blood, rushing down my teeth and face as I spoke. "Can't... feel much of anything. Hurts. Everywhere."

She nodded, and it looked almost sympathetic on her small face and frame, and I had to remind myself that this was a villain, and she was causing me pain, and she had probably causedothers pain, and oh god it hurt so much.

"Trying to artificially induce Trigger events hurts, I know! But then I think of all the knowledge possible, all the power that it could give... and I just do it, you know? It's not your fault that you were on vacation and ran into me, its just the luck of the draw! And boy did I luck out! Your family's out, you were asleep, had no problems not one until right now, and you can eventalk! You're the best subject I've had to date, haha!"

It was a cute laugh, and it echoed of better times. It reminded me of Emma. It reminded me that I would never see my best friend ever again, and she would learn that I had died at this insane villain's hands. She would cry and imagine how painful it was, and it hurt me just to think about it. It was a harrowing flash through my eyes as I thought about that, and the girl smiled gently at me, rubbing her hand over the muscle where my flesh used to be on my cheek.

"There there, I know, belieeeeeve meeeee I know! It hurts, but it'll be over soon! You just have to do one thing for me..."

"What?" I rasped, and it hurt, hurt more then anything I'd ever felt in my life, watching this small girl in the oversized coat work, stitching things into my arms, I could feel something forcibly bonding with my body, hurting me, and my eyes flashed red, and I couldn't see anything, just red that goes on forever for a moment.

"Trigger. I need need neeeeeed to see a Trigger event! I need it in my soul. If you Trigger, I'll put you back together, fix you up, and you can just walk right on out!"

She's lying. I knew she was lying. Villains always lie, from what I learned, from the rumors I'd heard. They'd promise something simple, but it's never simple, and it always, always hurts.

"Can't..." I said in response, the words bubbling past my throat, and I see red spurt out past my neck, splattering across the small girl's face and her wide, wide smile, filled with madness and terrible things that I didn't want to see. "You can't force a Trigger event... Even I know that."

I wanted to Trigger. I wanted it to stop hurting. Agony slammed into my body and I held back a cry, because the only reason the pain had stopped was because she was talking, and if I couldn't talk anymore, then she had no reason to hold back.

"I knoooow thaaaat! Jeez, you must think I'm an idiot! Sorry Taylor, but I'm smart, super duper smart! I figure that I do a little bit of this and that, I can force an event! And when I saw you Taylor, I just knew. You had the drive, you had the need, and you had the will. And that's what I really need Taylor. I need you to Trigger for me, okay? Just a little bit! It's alright!"

I looked at her, this tiny girl in a oversized bloody lab coat, and the words slipped through my lips, blood covering my teeth and my body again. "How... how do you even know who I am?"

"Oh, you don't remember? Well, I'm glad my memory wiping gas works at least. So difficult to get that working right. So- many... failures. You told me Taylor! You told me when I promised that little old Bonesaw would make the pain go away, you told me so many things~"

There was nobody around, not for miles. I knew that. But I wanted help. Please god, please, I'll do anything, anything in the world, if you just make her stop. Just let me live. Please, I swear, just let someone HELP ME. I need someone, oh god, Scion, anyone please, just hear me!

My mind exploded outwards, and I felt the world. six point three billion things to feel on the planet, all doing what they did, and I could feel their minds, hear them, in my head.

Words rolled past me faster then cars on a highway.

Protectorate. Wards. The Guild. I recognized those words - heroes.

They would help me, they had to help me, they needed to help me. Please. They were heroes, so I called to them, my mind reaching through miles and miles to ask them, beg them, pleadwith them to help me, words echoing forward from my mind that were barely recognizable, the only phrase that seemed even remotely human was one - HELP ME.

Birdcage. Villains. Parahumans. I knew those too, and even if they weren't heroes, they could help me, because nobody, nobody ever would want to experience this. I wouldn't wish this on the worst criminals, the most dangerous villains, not even the Endbringers.

This pain, this agony, this endless fire that burned through me, it hurt, it hurt so much please god help me help me help me

A laugh roared through the pain, a high pitched, mad cackle, that rose into my ears, and it screamed through my mind, suddenly shooting back into my body, and I twitched, eyes rolling forward in my head to look at her once more, her small body shaking with laughter, tears rolling down her face.

"Amazing! Fantastic! Oh man oh man, boy am I glad I picked you! I could almost kiss you!"

Blood poured down my body from everywhere, and I stared at her through a veil of red, barely able to see her through the crimson covering my eyes.

"Wh... what? What is it?"

She grinned, jumping towards me and wrapping her arms around me, and agony flew through my body, slamming into every corner of my being, and I cried out loud, a visceral rawscream, before Bonesaw stepped back, covered in my blood, in my muscles, in my guts.

Don't you know Taylor? congratulations!

"What... what the hell are you saying?"

She frowned at me, shaking her finger. "Language!" 'Only telepath in the world thanks to me!'

"I... I..."

'Don't understand? Yes of course not, but don't worry its okay!'

The words flowed to my head, my mind processing them in an instant, the words dancing around my own thoughts, thoughts of agony and fire and pain, and comprehending them, shaping them into forms I could understand, and it terrified me.

I had Triggered. It was obvious now - what I had seen, looking at the world, those were other people's minds, and I was looking into them, taking their thoughts and understanding them.

"You totally get it now! Oh an oh man I'm sooooooo happpyyyy~ I made the only telepath in existence!Ever! Jeez, that's wonderful!"

'great she's mine all mine never going to let her go she's mine mine mine'

I felt myself fading away from reality, blood pouring down every part of my body as my eyelids started to slide close.

'Oh no no no you aren't going to die! You're mine you're Bonesaw's and you're going to be the greatest thing I've ever made!'

...

When I woke up, I was in the middle of a cabin and nobody was around for at least two blocks. There was blood covering every inch of the cabin, coating it in layer after layer of sticky redness, and I staggered to my feet, slowly moving forward.

I still hurt. Everywhere. It was a dull throbbing instead of the searing agony of earlier, that pain was so far off it felt almost dreamlike, but it was there. I walked forward, and my eyes suddenly sharpened, and I stopped moving.

In front of the door, was a piece of clear glass in a frame. And an unfamiliar figure stood in it, and I shook in fear - had Bonesaw come back? She had promised to put me back together if I'd Triggered, but if she came back... she would kill me.

The figure was wearing a rag of a dress that used to be white, but was coated in so much blood that it had been stained a deep, dark red. Stitches covered her body, crossing over her face and along her cheeks, her neck and arms and legs, all of them were covered in stitches. Piercing, bright brown eyes stared into the mirror, and brown hair was raggedly cut at the neck, falling about the figure's face. She was pale, far paler then me, I'd been on vacation after all, I was tanned, and she looked haunted, like a fear of something would never leave her.

I took a shaky step closer, and froze. The figure stepped forward. I fell to my knees, and so did it. There was nobody for two blocks, my mind reminded me.

Because I was the figure in the mirror.

Extraction 1.2

I walked through the woods, my mind searching for any sign of life, anyone nearby who could possibly have heard my cry. The green and brown mottled area was silent, apart from the quiet chirping of birds and the undercurrent of noise that always exists in nature, tendrils of greenery brushing across my hands and face as I moved, causing me to shiver in fear, looking for the source of the touch, only to realize that it was the trees.

My mind roamed the woods alone, leaving my body far behind, until it reached the limit of my power, snapping back to me with a jarring halt, and I staggered momentarily, feeling the cold grass and mud slip beneath my toes as I moved. Stray strands of green stuck beneath my toes and it felt cool against them, distracting me from the white hot memories that flowed through my mind, memories of skin being rippedand scattered and laughing, always laughing, Bonesaw's girlish laugh echoing through my head, and I flinched, my mind reaching out to get away from the memories of the cabin.

The forest was blissfully silent to my searching mind, brushing past insects and animals with ease, feeling their thoughts for a moment before moving on.

Food. Shelter. Sleep. So strangely simple, compared to the myriad of emotions I had felt in the cabin, when my mind had grabbed the world. Then I had felt fear, anger, frustration, helplessness, all encompassing in a single shout, and the response had been less then I'd hope.

There wasn't really a response. I'd felt confusion and curiosity as an answer to my plea, and the hopelessness I'd felt was only doubled by the frustration of some of those I'd reached – of their own helplessness, their own inability to help me. It made me feel smaller then ever before, knowing that even in my darkest hour, nobody would have come to help me.

Because they couldn't. Because it was too hard, I was too far, and it was terrifying for them in a way that I would never understand. I could only understand that they had no ability to prevent my pain, to remove me from the agony I felt, and it was hard to accept.

The forest's silence was serenity compared to those feelings. A lack of thought, a lack of need. Just silence. I tried to smile, but the flash of pain that roared into my face as I did so wiped my features clean. I never wanted to think about Bonesaw again.

The pain that still wouldn't leave me, that sat there in the back of my head, poking and prodding and reminding me of the cabin. I wanted to forget it all, just so I could be Taylor again. An ordinary girl on vacation with her parents, asking when they would go back, because she wanted to see her best friend again.

Was I ever really that girl? She seemed so far off now, like a distant memory, or a half-remembered dream. I couldn't have been whining about vacation, that had to be a trick. Maybe Ihadn't left the cabin, maybe Bonesaw was tricking me again, making me think I had escaped just so she could catch me, drag me back to her tools and wires and the blood. Escaping from that small girl with the smile and the bloody coat wasn't possible.

It was just a fact. Alexandria, Eidolon, and Legend are the Triumvirate. Emma is my best friend. I would never escape Bonesaw. Was she binding her time, letting me have a taste of freedom so she could drag me back into her lair? Or was she letting me leave, like in those fantasy stories Emma loved. The villainallows the hero to leave, because he isn't strong enough yet. Would Bonesaw do that?

I shook my head quickly, wanting to free myself from the morbid track my thoughts were taking me down. I had to find a way out of this forest. I had to find a way to get back to the hotel, back to my family.

My power surged forward again, and this time, I looked. The minds of animals were simple, easy to understand. I needed something complex, something that could think and understand. Animals were like an assault rifle to a Tinker's pistol, easily understandable to those who could, but vastly and incredibly inferior compared to the latter.

At the very edge of my power, I felt it. A hint of humanity, and I let out a cry of joy; soon I could go home, soon I could break down and let myself go, stop caring and thinking and just let it out because it hurt somuch, and I just wanted the nightmare to end, to pretend that I was Taylor again, not Bonesaw's puppet, just Taylor.

The hint vanished as quickly as it came, and I nearly fell in dismay, barely standing as my shoulders slumped, my feet slowly moving forward. I would be trapped here forever, wouldn't I? Trapped in this place with dark murky colors, with cool grass brushing across my feet, irritating the cuts and scratches that covered them, the rags I was wearing as clothes whipping in the wind, as lights rushed by me.

My eyes darted forward, as minds rushed past me, going back and forth across the mottled gray with a striking yellow line, and my lips parted into a grin, despite the pain of the movement. I had found a highway, I could gohome.

I held out a shaking, pale hand, covered in marks and scars, my thumb shivering in the cool air as it pointed upwards. I'd always been told never to hitchhike, but there was no other option in this instance – I just wanted to get back to the hotel, go to sleep, and pretend that I had never left my bed.

Even if the stitches told a different story.

Even if my skin said it was a lie.

I must have looked terrible, a girl covered in stitches, wearing rags, holding out her hand as car after car flew by. I caught words with my power as they zoomed past, becoming lights in the distance; pieces and phrases that hurt.

'Weird odd girl go faster killer.'

I could have cried. Of course they would think that, I didn't look like me, I was Bonesaw's creation, even if I didn't want to be. My power bloomed with me, my mind reaching out, looking through all these minds, all these insults, and tears fell from my eyes. I supposed I did look a bit off, but still, why would nobody stop? Why did nobody care? Was I that much of a monster?

Screeching tires hit me like a freight train, and watery eyes met a watery face, barely visible through the film of wetness in my eyes. Rubbing them, my eyes saw a concerned woman, holding up a newspaper.

"Hey, are you alright? Sorry, its just that you're about the same age as this girl, so I was wondering if..."

Her voice faded into the background while I stared almost hungrily at the picture on the front page, at who I once was and who I oh-so-desperately wanted to be. Taylor Hebert, sitting in the photograph, smiling and wearing too big glasses, her head tilted to the side.

There was a reward for any information, and I wanted to cry again. They had been searching for me. They hadn't left me behind.

"C-can... Can you take me to where they are? Please?" My voice was shaky and dry from lack of use, newly stitched vocal cords still hoarse from screaming.

The woman nodded, and I sank into the backseat of her car in relief, watching the lights go by, listening to the voices of cars we passed.

'Hope Jessie leaves me alone.'

'I wonder if Rogers will be done with his fucking work, god dammit!'

'Poor girl, I wonder if she found her family.'

My eyes began to drift close, the lull of the highway noise and normalcy grasping me firmly, my eyes slowly closing as I fell asleep.

Extraction 1.3

I awoke with a jolt, the calming hum of the car engine halting. Shaking myself free from sleep, I looked up, my eyes looking around the vehicle, seeing the woman who had taken me in her car looking back with a warm smile. For the first time, I actually looked at her. She had long blonde hair, tied back into a ponytail, and skin about the same shade as mine used to be, maybe a bit darker. With twinkling blue eyes and a set of white teeth, she looked almost picturesque, less of a woman I'd meet on the roadside and more of a movie star. I blushed, keenly aware how visible it would be on my now pale cheeks, and looked at her shyly.

"Hey, why are you looking so down?" She said, tousling my hair, ratty and damp from the lack of washing I'd been unable to do in captivity, and I felt self conscious, my clothes suddenly seeming even less then they were before, and I looked away nervously. "We're here."

I looked up, and almost sank into the leather of her car in relief. Before me stood the hotel that my family was staying at. A tall building towered over the car, and a thousand glittering lights shown down on me. I could hear the murmur of noise that was always present in cities, the sound of cars moving and people talking as they walked down the streets. My power felt lucid, and more under my control then it had in the forest. There weren't any voices whispering into my mind involuntarily, telling me secrets that I didn't want to hear.

"Oh," I said, my voice barely a whisper, looking down at my feet, covered in grass and mud. I had probably ruined her car with how dirty I was, and my mom had always told me how difficult it was to get bloodstains out of clothing. How difficult would it be to get blood and dirt out of her car? "Thanks for the ride."

I moved to get out of the car, but she grabbed my shoulder, and I flinched. Slowly, I turned back to her, and she shook her head, her eyes flickering with amusement. "Come on, did you think I was going to let you go alone? I'll take you in."

Relief washed over me. She wasn't keeping me back, she was helping me move forward. I tried to smile at her, but as pain flashed through my face, it looked more like a grimace. She laughed.

"I know it must seem weird to go meet your parents with some strange woman, but just humor me, okay? I don't want you to get lost on the way."

She got out of the car first, the door closing with the sound of metal on metal, and I was momentarily confused by what she had said. How could I get lost on the way? I could see the double doors from here, the man at the door wearing his suit with a sort of detached pride, his sharp face nodding cordially to people as they entered.

Her hand knocked on the door, a light, dainty sound that made me wish I could knock like that. My hands were always heavy on doors, and it was always less of a knock and more of a crash when I came around to Emma's house. She liked it, apparently, said it let her know exactly who arrived when I knocked.

I opened the door slowly, stepping out with care as my feet brushed the hot concrete, grabbing the outstretched hand the woman offered.

"Th...thank you," I whispered to her, and she smiled one of those adult smiles, the one that says "I have a secret", or "I know something that you don't", and I held back a scowl as we walked towards the hotel, instead distracting myself with my power.

The doorman was thinking of a girl he knew when he was younger, wondering if he should give her a call, ask her over for some coffee. Even while his lips said hello to the next person entering the hotel, he was toying with the idea of seeing how she was doing once he got off work, go over and maybe meet up with her for the first time in years. I didn't find his thoughts very interesting, so I moved on, my power looking around for someone who looked like they might have a story to tell.

A woman with a scowl on her face and a cigarette in her mouth was thinking of her kids. Her twins were both in college; one studying math and the other studying history, and she was proud of them, more proud then she could have dreamed. They were well on their way to being their own people, but they still called her. Every Sunday, 5 PM sharp. She was so happy she could almost cry.

It made me think, as my feet stopped moving with the blonde woman next to me, waiting for the light to change. Why did people hide their thoughts behind their face? If someone was happy, why couldn't they look happy? If someone was sad, why couldn't they look sad?

I looked closely at the woman next to me, and she looked back, briefly halting a hurried conversation with the doorman, who was looking at me with something akin to frustration as I had looked through his mind, smiling down at me with bright white teeth and eyes that sparkled with her smile. I blushed and looked away. I wasn't as pretty as her, and I never could be. I was small, covered in stitches, and looked like a monster. Bonesaw had ruined me, even as a voice whispered that she'd created me, made me better. Were those my thoughts, or were they Bonesaw's? But as the light turned green, and my feet moved in unison with the woman's, I paled.

What would my family think? I looked nothing like myself. I looked more like Bonesaw then anyone else; pale skin, stitches, and rags. If I had a lab coat I could have passed for her older sister.

An unwilling laugh bubbled to my lips. Bonesaw? Family? The thought was unthinkable – she was insane, driven to madness by something that I couldn't understand. Maybe if I had more control over my power, I would be able to understand Bonesaw. But I didn't want to understand her.

If I understood her, then I could empathize with her. I could forgive her. And I never wanted to forgive Bonesaw, never wanted to think about her, or villains, or capes ever again.

The inside of the hotel was much like I remembered it. Warm lights and soothing music hummed throughout the lobby, and I let the sound of trumpet wash over my body, feeling lighter as the music played. I looked up at the woman next to me, and we both shared a secret grin, even if it hurt to smile. I was going home, and that made me feel lighter than air. Murmurs echoed through my mind, ones that I tried to ignore, just like the looks and glances I had been receiving, but still struggled to the forefront.

'Is it Halloween already?'

'Didn't know kids these days were so into costuming.'

'Filthy disgusting trash, bismirching the house of my fathers...'

The blonde freed me from the thoughts, as her voice broke through my reverie. "Hey, do you remember your room number? It doesn't say where your family's staying in the article," she said, her pretty face marred by a frown as she looked at the newspaper, the front page advertising a picture of me, with the headline folded down. "Annoying, isn't it?"

"I guess so," I responded quietly, my throat stinging in protest, "But maybe they were getting a lot of false calls, and just didn't want to deal with that anymore."

She laughed quietly, flicking a stray strand of straw yellow hair out of her eyes, giving me a pretty smile. "Wow. You really do think about everything, don't you?"

I frowned at her, a crease forming in my forehead, feeling the scratching, itchy feeling of stitches on stitches. "I don't think about everything. I just like to know things."

She ruffled my hair again, and I felt more self conscious then ever before.

"We were staying in 1331, if that's any help, um..." I bit my lip, the slight sting preferable to the constant, dull throb I normally felt.

She grinned, holding a finger up to her lips as if it was a secret. "Sam. Don't tell anyone, alright? I'm incognito right now. On temporary leave from work, they'd be furious if I told them I was helping a cute girl out."

I wasn't blushing. That was not happening, because I was too busy trying to glare at a woman twice my height, who laughed uproariously at my expression as she almost bounced off the elevator button, her back flying off it as quickly as it had hit it.

"That expression you're making right now? Adorable."

My ineffectual glare apparently did nothing to her – to Sam, as she flounced into the elevator, dragging me along, and the sound of a scratchy saxophone played over the speakers, and she grinned at me, offering me a hand. I looked at her like she was crazy, shaking my head furiously.

"S-sorry, I'm not a very good dancer."

She laughed boisterously, doing an elegant twirl, impossibly tight and concise in the elevator, her foot flicking out and tapping the thirteenth floor with little trouble as I watched, my eyes widening.

"It's not about dancing! It's about freedom, just doing what you like!"

What I'd like to do is curl up into a ball and cry. What I'd like to do is forget about Bonesaw and powers and capes forever. But I couldn't do that – my power wouldn't let me do that, even as it brushed up against Sam's mind, and her emotions washed over me.

Honesty. Happiness. Freedom. Sam didn't have a dishonest bone in her body, she was so wild and gleeful, her mind so blissful to sink into that a small giggle burst from my lips. She caught it with quick ears, and quicker hands grabbed mine as she spun, and I shouted with glee as the small elevator seemed to grow, the glass and dark red paneling turning into blurs of swirling color as we danced. Red mingled with clearness, and all I saw was a blur and blonde hair as we spun, her face glowing as she shouted with glee.

The ding of the elevator didn't stop her, she continued to spin, going faster and faster, and I found myself floating, the ground falling away beneath my feet, Sam's loud and boisterous laugh washing over me. I felt myself fall away, my power activating again and feeling the thrill of existence beneath my feet, the thrum of whispers and the pounding of heartbeats hitting me like an earthquake, and when it vanished, I felt lost.

Sam had stopped spinning, panting and grinning wildly. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

I nodded hesitantly. "I-I guess. It felt... it felt nice."

Sam smiled that wild and mad smile, one that said she could not, would not bend and ruffled my hair for the third time, and for the third time, I flushed at the contact, again being made keenly aware of how ratty I looked. Turning away quickly, I stepped lightly out of the elevator, feeling flustered and sweaty as I moved, the bloody rags sticking sharply onto my body. The hallway seemed longer then I remembered, the lights burning brighter then I thought they had, and the colors on the carpet more fascinating than they had any right to be.

It felt like my feet were dragging so slowly as Sam walked with me to 1331, and every step I took, the door loomed closer and closer, until I stood in front of it hesitating with my hand at the door.

"Aren't you going to knock?"

"J-j-just give me a minute."

Still, I hesitated. My family... what if they didn't want me anymore? I was hideous, a monster where there was once a girl. Would my family still care about me? Would anyone still care about me?

...What if Emma stopped caring?

My hand shook in front of the door, betraying me as it accidentally hit the door, the tap as loud as the pulse in my throat. As the door opened slowly, and a scrawny, tall man in a wrinkled shirt and dress pants stood before me, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he put his glasses on his eyes.

"Taylor?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper, and I gave him a small smile through blurred, teary eyes.

"Hi dad."

He grabbed me immediately, drawing me deep into his arms as I cried, tears running down my face, cutting through and around the stitches on it with ease, and I held him close, letting everything go as I let loose all of the emotions I'd been holding back in his arms – all the helplessness, hopelessness, and frustration pouring out of my body in waves as my dad held me.

"Taylor..." He said, his voice taut and quiet. "I was so worried about you. So, so worried."

"I'm sorry dad, I-I-I... I-I..." I choked, unable to continue talking. Memories crashed through gates I'd locked after waking up, memories of pain and suffering, everything Bonesaw had said to me, it came back up, and I couldn't breath, couldn't speak, couldn't think. My power activated like it was instinctive, whispers of voices entering my head, from my dad, from Sam, and from behind the door.

The door opened slowly, and my throat constricted as tears poured down, the woman who walked through it giving me a wide smile.

"Hey honey, are you feeling alright?"

I had to speak. I had to get these last words out before I collapsed, if nothing else.

"Hi mom."

I fell to the ground and blackness enveloped my vision.

Extraction 1.4

I wasn't sure if my eyes were open or closed. A murky darkness veiled my vision, and as I reached out with my power, voices washed over me, at least ten or fifteen, and what they whispered into my mind was fairly worrying.

''Not sure if those stitches are removable, they're made of'

'Skin like iron, two hearts... what's with all the extra'

'Need Panacea. Can't figure out her biology with all the'

I drowned out the voices with my own mind, slowly crushing them with my power, making them smaller, quieter, to allow myself some peace of mind, literally. My eyes slowly opened, and I saw a group of faceless people surrounding me, the bright whiteness causing me to squint, and I moved an arm to cover my eyes.

Well, I attempted to move my arm.

It wouldn't. I tried again, throwing more and more power behind my movement, and for a split second, I felt something straining, pulling back my arm.

And then my arm ripped free, and with bleary eyes I looked around at the faceless men, who had backed away from me in worry.

"Where am I?" I asked, and I blinked in surprise. My throat hadn't protested my speaking, and the words had flowed rather naturally, like water out of a faucet instead of through a cracked glass. The pain I'd felt was like a faint throbbing in the back of my head, a half remembered dream instead of an present agony, and I sagged with relief that it was gone.

One of the faceless men removed his mask, and suddenly features sharply snapped into focus. Brown, closely cropped hair and blue eyes stared back at me with concern, and he began to speak words that I didn't care to listen to. Instead, my power surged forward, entering his mind with ease. I drifted past stray thoughts, looking for something concrete, something that would tell me where I was. I delved deeper and further in, going farther and farther into the stray corners of his mind, looking past memories of children and flashes of school, until I saw it.

There it was, drifting next to a thought of flesh on flesh that I pointedly avoided looking at; I wasn't that curious about him, and I saw where I was.

The hospital. I watched myself being carried inside with detached apathy, satisfied by this discovery, and prepared to leave.

Blinking several times, I stared at my surroundings again, and they were much clearer.

Not faceless men, but doctors. I'd gotten treatment for some of the more blatant injuries on my body, and my arms were freed of stitches, only pale skin with paler scars remaining. I traced one of them, a swirl wrapping around the top of my hand to the bottom of my wrist, and it still felt tender and fragile, like glass instead of skin.

I had been laying down on a surgery table it seemed, but very little had actually been accomplished. But the pain was gone. The pain that had roared through my body now was merely a hum in the back of mind, no longer so centered, no longer at the forefront.

"Miss Hebert, you're awake. Good." One of the men said, sighing with relief. "We weren't sure if you would wake up again, and you were a bit hard to operate on in the first place!" He laughed, a small chuckle, as he removed his mask, rubbing the stubble on his face with a frown.

I blinked at him. Twice, because I was confused. He seemed surprisingly... normal, considering how I looked.

Actually, a lot of people had acted fairly normal. I had been covered in stitches and blood, but nobody had ever brought it up. Why?

I couldn't understand it. I didn't want to understand why Sam had never mentioned the blood on my clothes, and I would forget about the people who never mentioned that I was a barefoot girl in rags with stitches all over.

It was unimportant. Just like the stitches that had never been there. Just like the pain that wasn't in the back of my mind.

"Can... Can I see my parents?" I asked, looking at the man closely, and I noticed with eyes enhanced by something, that he flinched away. Apparently I was a bit scary.

Good. If I was scary, I wouldn't need to be a cape. I could just be Taylor for a little while longer, I could pretend that I was alone because I wanted to be. That was nice.

"Yes, of course. Come here," he grabbed my hand, and helped me off the table. I walked out of the room, and voices from it pulled themselves into my head.

'Like it was nothing, right? Painkillers didn't work.'

'Crazy. Wish I was a Tinker.'

'What is she?'

It didn't matter. I wanted to see my parents, and the whiteness of the hospital felt like it was reflecting on my skin, making me more noticeable, making everyone look at me, look at the girl with more scars then anyone else.

I hated it. I hated this body Bonesaw had 'gifted' me with. Even if I was stronger, I didn't want to be. I had never asked to be stronger. I had never asked to be like this. I hadn't even asked to trigger. Only Bonesaw had made trigger, and nobody I knew would have done something like that. Emma, my parents, my teachers, none of them would have made me into something so... so inhuman, would they?

Was a piece of Bonesaw inside everyone? Was everyone secretly, deep down in their hearts, a murderer like her? Or was I just pretending that it wasn't my fault that she took me away?

I had fallen asleep. I hadn't locked the windows. My parents had been out. Was it me? Was I the single correlating factor that had ruined everything? I didn't want to be. I didn't want that at all, it made me feel awful and horrible but it could be true. It would make sense, wouldn't it?

I shook my head free of awful thoughts as the doctor gave me new clothes, apparently my parents had bought some for me to wear when we left. A simple shirt, black, and jeans. I changed quickly in a closet, frowning as I left, realizing how much the black accentuated my scars.

The hospital lobby was dark, a moody black and white with soft singing in the background. Couches lined the walls, and there were tables with chairs scattered intermittently about the place. I looked around, and found my parents, my dad pacing back and forth in worry, while mom flipped through a magazine without reading a single word.

I walked over to them, and my mom looked up, and our eyes met – her vivid green meeting my now startlingly bright brown. I stood awkwardly next to her, and she grabbed me, pulling me close as I stiffened in her arms at the contact.

"Taylor..." she said, her voice quiet and choked with emotion. "I was so, so worried. You were gone for days, and then we hear that... that a super villain had been in the area, had beenkidnapping people. And then you walked in covered in... covered in stitches and wearing bloody rags and oh God... sweetie, I want you to answer me honestly." She looked me in the eyes, her own brimming with tears.

"Are you okay?"

Was I okay? I didn't know. I could invade minds. I could slip between the cracks of the human consciousness and steal thoughts. What else could I do, if that was just the most basic piece of my power? What else could I become? There was so much potential and adaptability just in passive mind reading – what if I could do more? Would I become a monster? No, worse.

Would I become the Simurgh?

Bad thoughts roamed through my head, and I looked at my mom with a bright, sunny smile. "I'm fine mom. Honestly." Blood and hate and Bonesaw flashed through my mind. But so did Sam. "Really, I think... I think I just want... I just want..."

I wanted to be normal. I wanted to laugh with Emma. I wanted to dance with Sam. I wanted to go to school. I wanted so many impossible things.

"I just wanna go home."

She nodded, standing slowly and holding my hand tightly. "Alright. Let's go home, okay? Your dad's just checking out of the hospital, and once we do that, we'll just get in the car and go. Straight to the highway, and right back to our city."

She sighed, giving me a small, tired smile. "I missed Brockton Bay too. The smell of the sea, the fog rolling in, the sunshine breaking through... I missed it all. I can't wait to be back."

I squeezed her hand back, giving her a smile of my own. "Me too, mom. Me too."

Extraction 1.5

The next few events passed in a blur as I played with my power, dancing through minds like a ballerina crossing the stage, weaving a tapestry of events like a painter uses paint, watching, acknowledging, comprehending what I could do.

I hated Bonesaw. I hated Bonesaw as much as I had ever hated anything, as much as I had despised the dentist, and she was the reason I could do this. The reason that I was able to jump from mind to mind not out of necessity or need, but boredom. Police interviews were dull. A series of questions that passed over me; name of the villain, what happened, and other questions.

I refused to answer what happened to me. I wanted to pretend it was gone, that nothing had happened, that my skin was as flawless as it had been the day I was born, that there had never been stitches or scars or pain that still hummed in the back of my mind. It wasn't true, because it couldn't have been true.

"Taylor?" My mom asked, and I looked up from the back seat with curiosity visible on my face. She looked worried, and she reached back and ruffled my hair, no longer as ratty as it had been when I was with Sam. I had been grateful to the police for allowing me a shower before the questioning, but my mind had still wandered.

I shuddered at the thought of my mind wandering, because it was no longer a metaphorical statement, but quite literal. My mind could go on trips far away from my body, and there was always the chance it wouldn't return, even if my power told me where I was when I did so.

I smiled at my mother, faintly aware of stretching pale skin that didn't feel like my own. I wouldn't read my parents' minds, it was the one thing I had sworn to myself. Even if out of boredom and apathy I searched minds, it wasn't like it hurt anyone! I was just interested! People had fascinating, incredible thoughts and I wanted to see them all. I wanted to see someone climb Everest, to touch Scion. I wanted to watch any and everything I could, learn from all these people who keep such events to themselves, because the innocence and depravity that my power had shown me so far was beautiful, if slightly terrifying.

"What is it mom?" I asked, my mind focused on this moment for the moment, forcing myself to look at her, not out the window at lights flashing by and the hum of engines going past.

"You were a little distant during the interview, like... you weren't all there. Are you sure you're fine, Taylor?"

I gave her a small smile and nodded slightly, not wanting to be a bother. My mom was always worrying about me, and she never had a bad thing to say about anyone, no matter what they had done. I loved my mom, because I was sure she would never betray me, that she would always be there for me.

My mom was amazing.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit... out of it, you know? It's like I'm in a different skin, and I'm worried that I can't control myself."

That was a half-truth, at the very least. I had ripped the memories out of the doctor's mind, without want or care for what he was doing for me, and I'd done it so easily. It had felt good, delving that deep and seeing what had happened like I was there. It was scary. Terrifying in a way that I could barely understand. I had felt like myself and not myself, at the same time. What if Bonesaw had messed with my head? What if she had made me into, well, not me? Was I still really Taylor, if I was so quick to rip memories out of heads?

My mom nodded sympathetically, giving me a smile. "I understand, honey. It happens. Things... things change. One day we're just coasting through life, and then the next day wham!" She smacked the back of her seat, and I jolted at the sound, like flesh on flesh, like Bonesaw's hands on my muscles, and I forced myself to listen to my mom, drown out the memories in my mind, the maddening whisper of what Bonesaw's power had done to me. I wanted to crush her with my power, turn her into a gibbering wreck, and break her into a hundred thousand pieces, and stand over her, showing her that I was better, stonger, and it wasn't because of her.

My mom continued to speak, and I listened. "But Taylor... even if your body changed, you're still you. No matter how much you change, you're still Taylor Hebert, my daughter, who I love very much. Just remember that now you've got power, even if you didn't want it."

I blinked at her, and my mind panicked, my power surging forward automatically before I wrenched it back. This was my mom, I wouldn't touch her mind. "What are you talking about mom?"

She smiled and sighed, looking out the window with me for a moment. Green lights turned into streaks as we drove past them, mixing with the darkness of the night in a way that made them twinkle brighter then the stars. She watched as we passed sign after sign, the road a dull black and gray as my dad drove closer and closer to Brockton Bay.

"What that villain did to you... you're different than other people now, Taylor. You're stronger. Faster. It's not fun to be better then others, people get... offended by it. So you have to be better then them, okay? You have to be stronger, not in here," she tapped my arm, the arm that I had used to rip through leather straps, "But in here." She pressed a finger on my heart, and I groaned.

"Mom, that's such a cliché! I've read that a hundred times in fairy tales!" I glared at her, my glowing brown meeting her bright green, which twinkled merrily.

"It's a cliché for a reason, Taylor. You're stronger. You're faster. You can do things normal people can't do, and they'll either love you or hate you. So you have to be better then them. You have to make friends to have friends, not because you can. You have to use what that villain did to you for good, not for personal gain, alright? Because you're going to be watched."

"But... But I don't want to be watched. I just want to be normal."

My mom sighed, and looked at me again. She was crying. Tears fell down her face one after another, and I shifted uncomfortably, not knowing how to react to my mom crying, because her words were hitting a bit closer than she might think. I did have power, but it was different than what she thought, more startling and horrible for me.

"Taylor... I know. I'm so, so sorry honey, but that can't happen. So just promise me, okay? Don't use your power unless it's to protect something important to you. Not for pointless stuff, something that really, really matters to you. Okay?"

Could I do that? I didn't like breaking promises to anyone, but especially to my parents. Could I do that, though? Because she thought we were talking about what Bonesaw had done to my body, but for me, that promise would be something more. It would be twofold – a promise to her about what Bonesaw had done to me, and a promise to myself. To control what I could do, force myself to reign my power in when it wanted to roam free. I wanted to believe I had that sort of willpower, but I wasn't sure if I did.

I felt so small compared to my ability. There was always that rumor that capes were more powerful if they triggered younger, and my ability dwarfed me in such a way that I felt that it was controlling me, rather than the other way around. I had to master my power, if I wanted to master myself. I couldn't be a cape if I casually ripped memories from minds, if I hurt people because I didn't understand my power.

What should I do? Was I ready for that? Could I overcome something that seemed so incredible compared to me?

Bonesaw was about my age, though. And Bonesaw was ready. She was ready, and she was insane. She would find me again, and if I didn't have my power under control, there would be little I could do to stop her from taking me again, from making me hers. I wasn't Bonesaw's toy, I was my own person.

Even if I felt out of place in my skin.

Even if I no longer recognized the scars on my body.

Even if I didn't feel like me anymore.

I looked up at my mom again, who was waiting with bated breath for my answer. Car after car zoomed past, turning into a metallic blur in the window in moments. I felt their minds pass me by, and I reached out for them on instinct...

And then I drew my power back, and smiled widely at my mom.

"Mom, don't worry. I promise."

She sighed with relief, ruffling my hair one last time before turning back to the front, and beginning a quiet conversation with my dad. I looked out the windshield again, and my eyes traced the latest road sign with exhaustion and happiness.

Brockton Bay was only a few miles away.

Interlude 1

The room was as silent as a grave, and ludicrously spartan. It had white walls and a wooden floors, with a single overhead light, turned off. A window the size of the wall showed the New York skyline, and a single table, white sat in the middle, a circular piece in the middle of the square room. A man sat in one of the chairs, his cape falling lightly behind him.

Legend. Arguably one of the strongest heroes in the world, and a member of the Triumvirate, drummed his fingers on the table, looking out at the skyline with a furrowed brow.

"...They're late." He said, sighing as he removed his helmet, revealing a man of about thirty, with close cropped black hair and a clean shaven face, who looked extremely out of place in the costume compared to the stern man in the mask of before. Without anyone there, he was less of a hero and more of a man, alone and waiting for the other two members Triumvirate to arrive.

Legend looked out the window, at the vast New York skyline, and felt a pang in his heart. He didn't want to be here, discussing the cry for help that he had heard in his mind. He would rather be at home with his partner and their son, watching television. Not the possibilities of psychics, or the chance that a telepath was real, and what it would mean.

He heard the door open and shut, and he turned with a grin towards the man who entered.

"Hello David, how have you been?" He asked, and Legend's voice was rough and deep, and it rumbled through his throat before exiting, almost more of the voice of a lion then of a man. Eidolon clapped a hand on Legend's shoulder before he sat down himself, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion.

"Are you alright?" Legend asked, his voice filled with concern for his friend, a man he'd worked with side by side for years. "If you're not feeling well..."

"I'm fine." Eidolon replied. He was curt, his voice cutting off as quickly as it had spoken. "We need to discuss that... that scream."

Legend sighed, nodding his head in agreement. As much as he wished to ignore what had occurred, it was necessary to review. His heart felt heavy as he thought of the scream.

All it had wanted was help, and he had not been able to a do a single thing. He was Legend, a member of the Triumvirate, one of the strongest heroes in the world, and he had not done anything to help the screamer. He had searched all over New York.

Then he had searched the east coast. And still, he had found nothing, no sign, not a hint of the person who had been screaming and begging for help. Legend had become a cape to help others, and for the longest time, he had forgotten that. His powers had been used to fight Endbringers and villains, instead of for what he had originally acquired them for - to protect. For the first time since the very first Endbringer fight, Legend had felt weak. Unworthy of the power he held. Not strong enough for others, let alone himself. He had let down this person who had triggered and felt so much pain that they had screamed across the world. Legend did not feel like the man who had helped drive off so many Endbringer attacks, who had led the New York Protectorate for years, but like a drowning man.

"Yes," Legend said, his voice quiet, as guilt stormed through him, reaching from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, "Yes we do."

He sat in silence with Eidolon for a time, turning his gaze back to the window. The skyline was beautiful, a pinnacle of humanity's capacity, in his mind. He had flown above it so many times, and each and every one of them was brilliant. He remembered blue skies and gray skies and sunsets with his partner. It made him wonder about how the screamer had felt. Was it sunrise? Sunset? What had they been doing before they triggered? Why couldn't he stop it?

Thoughts of inadequacy and desire for change roamed through his mind. He struggled with it, the idea of not being able to find this new cape, and apologize for what he hadn't been able to do for them.

There was a light knock on the door, which then immediately opened, and Alexandria walked in, her black costume with the white lighthouse blatantly advertising her identity.

"...Alexandria." Legend said with a nod. He and she had always been at odds on how to run the Protectorate, with Alexandria wanting a more hands on, hard hitting approach, while he had always preferred to take a step back, and review what was going on. With the amount of power they wielded, he had always felt that it was better to be honorable, to do the right thing, than to do the most damage in the least amount of time.

He worried about the day where Alexandria would succeed him.

Alexandria gave him a cordial glance, before taking her seat. The Triumvirate had assembled, and it was time for the discussion. Legend hated discussions like this: whether or not a new cape was a threat, whether they should be recruited or thrown in the Birdcage. He hated the clinical approach Alexandria and Eidolon took towards this, it was almost inhuman, and it baffled him that his friend – that David, could be so callous.

"Let's begin," Alexandria said, and her voice was just as sharp and curt as her personality, cutting like a knife through butter and straight to the point. "I assume we all heard the scream." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, her brow furrowing. "I've been in meetings with the Board all day to talk about telepaths. We'd spent so long assuring them that telepathy was impossible that this? This is the scariest thing they've heard about capes in years. Everyone has secrets, and a telepath can take them freely. It's bad for business, and it's bad for the Protectorate." She stretched, cracking her knuckles with a loud sound, and Legend looked on sourly, hating the noise. "So, we need to decide now. Before the new cape comes out as a hero or a villain. Are we going to let them run free, or are they a Threat?"

"Threat." Eidolon said, his voice frustrated and annoyed. "Telepathy is dangerous. Nothing would be secret, and the new cape would hold all the cards in the world in their hands. The mere threat of their presence would cause governments to fall. We can't have that."

Legend clenched his fists. The ease, the hopeless, simple ease that Eidolon had decided about this new cape offended him. What if Arthur had been a telepath, or worse, what if it had been Keith who had triggered dangerously? Would Eidolon be tossing them aside as easily as he had this unknown factor?

"Agreed. Telepathy is dangerous in a way that we can't really understand currently. If the cape comes forward, we'll declare them an A-Class threat. Stranger and Master protocols, the works. Now, moving on, the Endbringers are-"

"No."

Legend heard his own voice boom through the small room, and he stood up, towering over the rest of the Triumvirate. "I will not sit here while you decide that a human being's life is forfeit because of their power. I will never fall that far from my ideals, no matter what they tell me to do. If I must turn a blind eye to certain aspects of the Protectorate, things that you do Alexandria, I will. But if you attack this new parahuman because of their abilities, I will fight you. I will fight you to my last breath."

"Legen-"

He cut Alexandria off as he moved, his body screaming with power that he had yet to unleash, his eyes hissing golden sparks when he looked at her, as she stood up too. Alexandria was smaller then him, but that was no reason to underestimate her. He may have been one of the strongest, but so was she.

"No. I refuse. I will not allow you to classify the telepath as an A-Class threat, because of something they might do. We know nothing about them. We only know their power. You are not going to label someone whose only crime is begging for help a threat."

Alexandria glared at him, and he glared back at her. Power bristled in the air, tension underlying the argument like firecrackers. It was an argument long coming, Legend knew that. It was an argument about power and what they wanted and the directions the Protectorate was taking.

"The psychic scream originated near Brockton Bay," Eidolon said, his presence near the two somewhat calming as he clapped them on the shoulder. "Anyone we know there?"

"Armsmaster," Alexandria said as she turned away, brushing non existent dust from her shoulder. "He's competent; dangerously competent, but I'm not familiar enough with him to know if he could deal with a telepath."

Legend thought. He thought of the skyline, of Arthur, and of Keith. He thought of how far Eidolon had fallen, and how high Alexandria had risen. He thought of the difference between him and his friends, and with grim determination he spoke.

"I will go."

They looked at him with raised eyebrows and confusion.

"I will go to Brockton Bay. Eidolon can take my place in New York, he's strong enough. I will go to Brockton Bay, and find this new parahuman."

He waited with baited breath, and almost sagged in relief as the other two members of the Triumvirate nodded.

"Good," Alexandria murmured, before looking him straight in the eyes. "And when you do..."

He left. He did not want to hear what Alexandria required of him, because he already knew what he would do when he met the parahuman.

Fall on his knees, and beg for forgiveness.

This has a bit of edits and 200 less word (oh noooo) but is also the completed version of chapter 1. The previous was my word doc, which is intermixed with my GoogleDocs because I'm an idiot.