I knew something was wrong long before I saw the locker. The snickers trailed me through the halls, dread building with each set of narrowed eyes and covered, whispering mouth. I sighed and slumped my shoulders, whatever straightness they had built up during the winter break evaporating like a drop of water skittering across the surface of a hot pan. I wished I knew what the people behind the whispering hands were thinking. I wished I understood what drove the Bitches to do what they did. Was it simply a way to build themselves up? Was it calculated, or just unthinking cruelty that drove them? Would they be ashamed one day? I supposed I would never know.

I climbed the last set of stairs to my locker. The throng of students had vanished, and I sighed a breath of relief. After the buildup from the whispering, an empty hallway was a welcome relief. There would be onlookers if the trio had planned something for me. It looked like whatever was planned would happen elsewhere. Maybe at lunch? My throat loosened somewhat as I continued towards my locker. I could handle lunch. That was later, and I had long since learned to handle things as they came, one at a time.

The smell quickly dashed my hopes. The stench was foreign I had no frame of reference to place it. Nothing in the world, as far as I knew, could ever smell that putrid. A mixture of puke, copper, and urine filled the air and assaulted my nose as I approached my locker. It was beyond disgusting, and even six feet away I had to fight not to gag. For a second I considered just turning around and reporting the smell to a janitor. Glancing around I still saw no one. Apparently the empty halls were a part of the prank. They didn't want to be implicated in such an escalation. Whatever they had put in there was far beyond anything else that had happened, I knew. With a sigh, I spun the dial with my combination, and lifted the latch that held the door closed. No… not even they could… this crossed the line.

The smell hit me like a blast of summer head and I began dry heaving. Just the sight of the locker half filled with soppy red waste was enough, but the flies, ants, and cockroaches were too much. I puked. Luckily I had the presence of mind not to get it all over my sweatshirt and shoes, instead aiming off to the side, my hands on either side of the open locker.

"Look at her!" a voice said from behind me. "She can't even handle a little prank!" Emma.

"I thought she'd be used to it," said another. Madison. "It's not too far off how she normally smells."

I knew Sophia was there, but before I could turn around to face my tormentors I felt a pair of hands on by back. Sophia's shove overcame my hold on either side of the locker and I was suddenly inside. I saw her face as I turned, dark glittering eyes underneath perfect corn rows. A dark, beautiful face twisted in hate and pleasure. Her hand was on the locker door, and then it was slammed shut. "I think she needs a bit of time to cool off after that, don't you?"

"NO!" I shouted. I finally found my voice, but it was too late. This was too much. "Sophia! Emma! Please, let me out!" I pounded on the thin metal door, but it was shut tight. I tried the locking mechanism, but it wouldn't move. I could hear laughing outside.

"See you later, Taylor!" Emma said. The voice was receding.

"Emma, please! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!" The smell overwhelmed me again and I threw up. My pleas were useless. My fists were useless. I was useless.

"I was wrong," I whispered to myself. I thought they had planned something at lunch. If only I knew what they were thinking. "I was wrong," was all I could think.

BANG! I struck the locker as hard as I could with my fist and felt something snap in my hand. The bang of the thin metal resounded down the empty hall as I screamed in pain and anger.

I started to cry. I was done. This was too much. They had beaten me. I had weathered everything they had thrown at me for a year and a half. Shoves, insults, theft. They had stolen and destroyed my mother's flute and even that hadn't broken me. But this…

I had broken something on my hand, vomit was running down the locker door and my sweatshirt, and I cried. Insects started to crawl on my ankles, curious, probing, and I stamped them off as best I could. My shoes squished into half coagulated pink gloop and insect bodies. I didn't get them all off, and the scratching was getting worse. Would they bite? Did I care? No.

No… No I didn't care. It was my fault. I had been wrong. I hadn't known what they were thinking. That was my fault.

Destination. Agreement.

Maybe I deserved this.

Trajectory... Hesitation.

It was dark, and I could see stars shining through the locker door.

Reassurance.

…

Agreement.

I saw something unimaginably huge among a veil of stars. Two objects- creatures- spinning and intertwining, and a third approached…

Suddenly I was outside of the locker, walking down the hallway. I was happy and strong. No… that wasn't true. I was still inside the locker, and I was outside in the hall. I was walking to class with my friends, thinking about that weak bitch Taylor. But I was Taylor too. I thought about how I had patrol later, how I was paired with Short Stuff. God that was going to be annoying. Maybe I was dying. Maybe I could duck out as we passed the docks… find some douchebag to fuck up…

I was Taylor. I was in the locker. I went totally still as I processed the extra senses I was receiving as I walked down the hallway with my friends. Sophia's friends…

…

Shadow Stalker's friends.

Wait a minute, what was I thinking? I could just phase through the… no. I couldn't phase through anything. I was Taylor.

"How long do you think she'll be in there, Soph?" Madison asked.

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Sometimes she was as bad as Short Stuff, but she was a useful friend to have, "Who cares? She's there now and I'm going to class. She learned her place."

I was calm now. I was in the locker. My shoes were getting soggy with refuse and my left hand was burning with pain. I could see the world through Shadow Stalker. Every sound, every smell, every touch.

Every thought.

I could look into her thoughts.

It was more than just that, though. It was like she was an extension of me. Her eyes and ears were mine. I seamlessly managed them like my own limbs and they blended together as a part of a whole. I focused.

I'll need to call Julia tonight. I rolled my eyes as the thought came to me. Always something to spoil my good mood. That ugly PRT bitch could go choke on a peanut for all the good she did me. I felt my phone buzz and I glanced at the screen. Speak of the devil, and she will come. I accepted the call and lifted the phone to my ear, "What do you want? You know I'm in sch—"

"Shut up and listen, Sophia, because if you don't we'll both be so deep in shit even you couldn't phase out of it. The PRT set up cameras throughout Winslow. There were complaints of bullying and your name came up." I stopped walking, and Emma and Madison were looking at me. I waved them off and turned away. Julia continued, "Armsmaster designed them and gave me the responsibility of keeping an eye on you. I saw you shove that girl in a locker."

"I-"

"Sophia, shut up! I can erase that part of the footage, but you need to go back, right now, and open that locker. You will stay away from that girl and anyone else you may be bullying from here on out. If you don't, you'll be headed straight to juvie, maybe prison after you're eighteen, and I'll be out of a job."

I was grinding my teeth at this point, but my feet were headed back towards the Loser's locker. "I'm going," I said.

"Good. Hurry. The less I erase the easier this will be. Get that done. Leave her alone. And don't talk about this ever again. Pretend this conversation never happened, even with me when we talk in the future. Do. You. Understand?"

"Got it," I said with gritted teeth.

Julia hung up without saying anything else, and I slipped the phone back into my clutch. I was back at the locker now, and I opened the latch using a bit of my power. The Loser stumbled out and crumpled to the floor, cradling her hand. Had she broken it? Seriously?

"Alright Loser, here's the deal. I think you've had enough. From here on out, stay out of our way. Don't talk to us, don't look at us, don't think about us, and we'll leave you alone. Sound good?"

I looked down and I saw myself. I had tears in my eyes. My shoes and socks were stained pink. I was shaking and silently crying. I was pathetic.

I looked up and saw myself. I was strong, drunk with power. I had killed before. I was a snake in the grass, ready to take down larger prey.

I pushed back my power and regained myself. Shadow Stalker was waiting for my answer. Her thoughts becoming annoyed at the weakness I was showing. I nodded at her, then put my head between my knees.

"Good," she said, "I'm glad we have an understanding." You are so fucking lucky.

I watched and listened as Shadow Stalker rejoined Emma and Madison. I went into the bathroom and cleaned myself up as best I could. It was difficult with my left hand throbbing in pain. The final bell for class rung while I was rinsing out my mouth and wiping off my shirt, and so I made my way to the nurse's office through empty halls. I showed the nurse my stained shoes and broken hand. I told her that someone had filled my locker with used tampons and they spilled all over my shoes when I opened it. I had broken my hand falling back on it awkwardly. The nurse had pity in her eyes as she ushered me into the bathroom and helped me take off my shoes and socks. She cleaned my legs off with disinfectant wipes then called my dad.

As I waited, I lost myself in Shadow Stalker's perspective. I listened to her thoughts. She was annoyed that she couldn't bully me anymore, but still had a residual pride and strength from ripping me apart emotionally. But that was done with, I thought. Now, everything would be different.

I was a parahuman. Something happened to me in that locker. I didn't remember what it was, but it was monumental. As far as I could tell, my powers came in two parts. One, I could receive the thoughts and sensations of other parahumans as if they were my own. Even now, I was seamlessly blending the Perspectives of both myself and Shadow Stalker into a single whole. It was like two bright spots of knowledge and understanding on a larger blank map. It was incredibly empowering to know exactly what my opponent was thinking, feeling, sensing.

For some reason, thinking of Shadow Stalker as nothing else than another Perspective felt right. That's exactly what it was. Capital 'P' Perspective. It helped to use the proper terminology when referring to my powers, and capes within my range were Perspectives. They were my tools to leverage and mold to my advantage, and only by using them properly would I reach my full potential.

The second part of my power was the ability to enforce sensations upon my other Perspectives. I had made Shadow Stalker feel her phone vibrating in her purse. I had made her see Julia's contact info on a blank screen, and I had made Shadow Stalker hear her PRT minder's voice. It had all been in Shadow Stalker's head, of course, but when I had perfect control over a person's senses, how would they ever know the difference?

Looking back, the solution I had devised had been perfect. My other Perspective's thoughts were as if they were mine, and so crafting the ideal illusion using gleaned information had been child's play. My goals were realized with a few simple tweaks on Shadow Stalker's perceptions. In five minutes I had solved the bullying problem that had plagued me for a year and a half.

I sat there on the padded patient table, swinging my legs aimlessly as I thought. I was pretty sure there was more to my power than just receiving Perspective and sending commands. I seemed to be superhumanly capable of leveraging the input and output of the information available to me. I wondered how powerful I could become with ten, twenty capes in my range. Would that even work, or was I limited to a single parahuman at a time? That would suck, but I was fairly confident that I would be able to manage a large number of perspectives at any time. After all, it wasn't hard to manage ten fingers, two arms, and two legs, right? To my power it was all the same.

As I waited for Dad to arrive and take me to the hospital, I learned about the rogue Ward, and in turn, the PRT, Wards program, and everything she knew about Brockton Bay capes. I couldn't dig through her thoughts, of course. I was simply following along with her most active thought, like listening to an audiobook named Shadow Stalker. Fortunately for me, however, cape life was all that Shadow Stalker seemed to think about. Being a cape was her life. The fights, struggles, and dominance were what she lived for.

"Taylor!" Dad was suddenly there, wrapping me in a hug.

"Hi, Dad," I said, hugging him back gingerly with my one good hand.

"What happened? The nurse said you broke your hand?" He let me go quickly, perhaps realizing he might have been hurting me. At first, I was annoyed that I didn't know what my dad was thinking, but then I caught myself with a chagrined smile. Barely a cape for an hour and I was already lamenting my powers didn't work on normal people. I guess that meant that Dad wasn't a cape like Armsmaster. That was silly, of course, as I already knew Armsmaster's real name was Colin, courtesy my other Perspective.

"I fell on my hand wrong," I said. "Someone put a bunch of gross… stuff in my locker as a prank and I panicked a bit. I fell back on it wrong. It's my fault, mostly."

I saw my dad's temper flare when I mentioned it was a prank, but the rational side took over quickly enough. He thought it was only a one-time prank, after all. He took me around the shoulders and led me to the door, "Let's get to the hospital." He turned towards the nurse, "Tell Principal Blackwell I'll be speaking with her in the next few days."

With that we were headed out of the school. We didn't talk much, which was fine with me. I was concentrating on how far my range was. As I got into the car, the bell rang and my second Perspective packed up her bags, her torrent of thoughts still crystal clear. We pulled out onto the street and drove for a bit before my awareness of her winked out. I estimated my range was somewhere between two and three hundred yards, and there was no degradation of control until that limit. That was in a single direction, so that gave me a swath of control up to six hundred yards total. Not too shabby. I allowed my head to fall back onto the headrest and closed my eyes.

The trip to the hospital was uneventful. No new parahumans entered my range while we travelled or while I was treated. The doctor explained, using blurry x-ray prints as an aide, that I had a hairline fracture and gave me a splint which secured my pinky finger in place while it healed. It would need to stay in the splint for 4 weeks, with an additional two weeks of no strenuous use of that hand.

Dad and I didn't speak much on the way home, as normal. That was fine with me. I was still thinking about my power. I wasn't exactly the go-to person for information on parahumans. Our world history class hadn't covered parahumans yet, and I wasn't a cape geek either. However I was still aware that my powers were… not normal. The Simurgh was telepathic, and the consensus was that it was the only telepathic entity. Was that wrong? Did telepathic capes exist, and they were just very careful about revealing that ability? It was like finding out Alexandria wasn't invincible, or Eidolon wasn't the strongest parahuman on the planet, barring Scion of course. Some things just were, and it just was that telepathy wasn't a possible power.

Apparently not.

Not only that, I could mess with my Perspective's senses. I wasn't sure how far I could take that part of my power. I had already manipulated three of Shadow Stalker's five senses. Touch, sight, and sound. I was sure that smell and taste would be just as easy. Suddenly a thought occurred to me. Could I cause pain? Could I create the sensation of overwhelming, overpowering pain in my other Perspectives? That was simply the sense of touch, after all. I shuddered at the thought, and hoped I would never have to resort to using pain so violently that it would disable a person. There was so much to test, so much to learn. So much I needed to find out as soon as possible.

Dad steered into our driveway and I hopped out. Dad grabbed my backpack before I could get it myself. "I don't think so, Taylor. Take it easy or you will make that finger worse."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Dad," I said.

As we stepped into the kitchen, Dad turned to me and said, "OK, Taylor, something is different with you. You're too happy after what happened at school. Let me in on the good news so I can stop worrying."

I knew I was acting out of character. I had endured bullying for the Bitches by closing down, hiding, and not talking. I thought about Mom all the time, and my finger would take a month and a half to heal. I should be a miserable wreck. And this morning, I had been miserable. And yet… the Bitches were going to stop. It was done, and I was a cape.

"There were a few bullies at school," I finally said, "but that's done now. They won't bother me anymore. Not after what happened today."

"You're absolutely right, they're not," Dad said. "Tomorrow I'm going down there to give Principal Blackwell a piece of my mind."

I put my good hand on one of his fists, which had bunched up on top of the table. "No dad, that's not needed. There's been an… agreement between us and I won't be bothered anymore. If you make a big deal about what happened today you'll ruin it."

"Taylor, that's not how these things work," Dad said.

"Not normally," I replied, "but this time is different, I promise." He looked doubtful, so I added, "I promise that if they try anything, you'll be the first to know, OK?"

"What could you possibly have done that would make them stop? Stuffing your locker full of that stuff goes so far beyond the norm…"

If only you knew. "Please Dad, just trust me on this. We have an understanding, but it only works if everything stays quiet."

"It sounds like you're playing a dangerous game, Taylor." He paused, hesitant before saying, "You aren't getting involved with… gangs, are you?"

I was speechless at first, my mouth open wide, before I burst out laughing, "No way Dad, nothing like that. I have this handled and it's behind me now. That's why I'm so happy. If I end up being wrong I'll tell you. Promise."

That night I started my cape journal. I had possible names, costume sketches, ideas for my debut, everything. But the biggest concern was the nature of my power- telepathy. How powerful was I in comparison to the average cape, and how dangerous would others perceive me to be? It was the most pressing question for my cape life- and if my fears proved true might be the most important question for my continued survival in general.

With that concern in mind, I had two main avenues of research. One, I could go online to places like PHO to discover a bit more about capes in general. This was a safe route, but the payoffs would be slim. There was sure to be a lot of misinformation as well, as capes were tight lipped about the extent of their powers.

The other option was to take a bus down to the PRT headquarters downtown, get some coffee or tea at a nearby restaurant, and case the joint with my powers. Basically- place myself within range of the Protectorate capes, wards, and whoever else shows up and spy to my heart's content. The risk would be low, the information payoffs potentially huge, and I'd get a hot drink to boot. That being decided, I turned off the desk lamp and went to bed.

****ADMINISTRATION****

The next day at school was… strange to say the least. I got in early and headed to my locker. It had been cleaned of waste and everything seemed to be in place. My books were intact, as they were stored up on a shelf, above the main compartment on the bottom. Thank goodness for small victories, I suppose. I was heading to my homeroom when I gained a new Perspective. Shadow Stalker was her usual angry self. Her patrol had been beyond boring, with no chance to ditch Vista and strike out on her own. She was also annoyed that Emma and Madison had pushed back so much when they were told to stop messing with me, but they had caved at her insistence. I smiled at that. Good, everything was still holding up from yesterday.

I was heading down the second main corridor, and Shadow Stalker was heading up the opposite direction. I wanted to learn a bit more about my power, so I headed towards her. I stopped short of where I knew Shadow Stalker's locker to be. Emma and Madison weren't with her, so this was a good opportunity for me. My perspectives converged as she came around the corner and within sight of me, except with a small push of my power I erased all perception of Taylor from Shadow Stalker. The girl walked right by me without the faintest recognition that I was there. Success!

Shadow Stalker was opening the locker, and I wanted to try one more thing. I was much more hesitant about this one, but I needed to know. Besides, it would be harmless and testing in a controlled environment was a lot better than trying it for the first time in a desperate situation. Shadow Stalker glanced around and opened her locker by phasing into the lock and manipulated the latch. The locker popped open and she reached in for her books. As she picked up her particularly heavy history book, I sent a twinge of pain to her shoulder. She yelped and dropped the book onto the ground. I smiled at the second success, although it was slightly grim.

Shadow Stalker rolled her shoulder with a scowl, thinking that she may have injured it during a recent workout or patrol. I retreated while I was ahead, and left for my first class.

I took my seat in my first class, computer science with Mrs. Knott, and considered the three things I had just learned about my power. One, I could erase things or people from other cape's senses. Two, I could, if I needed to, inflict pain. Three, pain felt from my other Perspectives didn't affect me. I suppose it was a built in safeguard my power. Very useful. The night before I had been concerned about not being able to participate directly in combat, but the fact I could cause pain meant that I was no slouch in confrontation.

The rest of the day continued in the same vein. Avoiding the trio was easy, as they always stuck together and therefore within my sight. It was… nice. I could definitely get used to it. Sure, I still received glares and whispered taunts, but I figured that would dry up once the general population of girls realized that their cronyism wouldn't curry favor with the Bitches. There was no soda waiting for me on my seats in class, and I was able to find a quiet spot to eat at lunch. Interestingly, some of the girls who were secondary to the trio's group reported where I was. That pissed me off to no end, but fortunately nothing came of it. Even if they did try to find me, I would have simply moved before they arrived.

****ADMINISTRATION****

Saturday was a bright and chilly January morning, and so I bundled up tightly for my trip to the

'library.' I kissed Dad on the cheek and took a bus to the Boardwalk. That was the intermediary destination for anyone who wanted to get downtown from the docks, as all bus lines worked off of a few popular hubs around the city. Shoppers were already browsing the overpriced clothing and jewelry stores, drinking their lattes from non-chain coffee shops, and having a blast doing it. Despite my somewhat condescending view of the Boardwalk, the tourism was a boon to the Bay, one of the only bright spots on a city whose fortunes were slowly but inevitably fading away. The bus to downtown was on the opposite side of the boardwalk, and I wasn't going to complain about a leisurely stroll through one of the city's nicest districts.

I leaned up against the wooden railing that overlooked the beach. Down below I saw crabs scuttling sideways, intent on destinations and tasks totally unknown to me. They cast long shadows on the sand, little creatures with monstrous eight legged shadows.

The sun was still low enough in the sky to sparkle over the Atlantic Ocean. It was a beautiful sight to be sure, but knowing the monster that lurked below the waves, the sight of the ocean always put a slight twist in my stomach. Leviathan was basically the sole cause of the Bay's economic crisis, after all. Shipping large amounts of product between continents became an increasingly risky prospect. It wasn't that Leviathan actually attacked ships on the ocean. No, that was something that villains did, and while annoying, it wasn't the cause of businesses becoming unwilling to transport their goods over water. It was that Leviathan attacked coastal locations, and the hundreds of millions of dollars of cargo waiting on container ships were the first things to be destroyed by its tidal waves. It wasn't just the cargo in the bays and harbors that were at risk, either. Leviathan's waves had sunk ships and destroyed harbors for miles around the primary target. The ocean was beautiful on the surface, yes, but below waited a terror.

I shook my head of the thought. The idea of a beautiful veneer covering a monster was hitting a little too close to home at the moment. The things I could do with my power if I just… didn't care? It was certainly worse than a brute going on a rampage, or a thinker rigging business or elections. I suspected I could, with just a bit of effort, make a cape go insane. Either by inflicting unbearable pain, or by making them unable to distinguish reality from illusion.

I was at the midway point of the boardwalk when I gained a new Perspective. They were walking towards me, eyes darting between various shoppers and storefronts. She was looking at a man just in front of her. No wedding ring, but his thumb keeps moving to the finger. Recent divorce? No. Cheating? Not nervous enough. Widower. Well, that was a trip, I thought. Obviously a Thinker of some kind. I continued to listen to her thoughts and moved off to the side of the crowd. I erased myself from her perspective before she got anywhere near me. Her name was Lisa… No, wait. It was Sarah. Lisa was an assumed name, but one so ingrained into her that at first I missed the difference. As I continued to listen to her thoughts I gained a grasp on her powers. She had the ability to piece together correct answers from the smallest scrap of information. Listening to her mind and power work was incredible, like having a front row seat to an orchestral masterpiece. I was still listening to her power, slightly off to one side of the busy boardwalk as she passed. I had erased myself from her perception, but apparently that wasn't enough for someone like her. Unusual flow of people to the right. Going around an unseen object. Something on the ground? No. Wait. Unusual shift in behavior. Crowd no longer avoiding the spot. Possible Stranger. Bug out.

I stared at her with my mouth open. Damn, that was impressive. She picked up her pace a notch and pulled out a phone. She dialed a number, and a male voice answered, "Yeah?" The voice was calm and deep.

"I'm at the boardwalk, being followed. Possible Stranger. I need some assistance."

"Got it. Meet at the usual spot. We'll be there to get you out if you need it."

"OK."

With that Sarah snapped the phone shut and continued her brisk pace. Her thoughts were moving extremely quickly and I could feel pressure building in her head. Coil's men? No, no reason to keep such a close eye on me. He made his threats and abilities clear enough. Nothing to gain from following me. Maybe additional intimidation? Cement my resignation to working with the Undersiders? Possible. Not enough information to come to a conclusion.

So she was working for Coil, but against her will. That struck a chord deep within me, and my anger built. To just keep someone under your thumb like that was so wrong. I vowed that I would try and help Sarah- no, she thought of herself as Lisa- in any way I could.

Lisa waved down a cab and got into the back seat, shutting the door firmly and giving an address to the cabbie. I recognized the street as being deep inside the docks, in an area with many abandoned buildings. It was likely close to the Undersider's lair. As the cab started to pull away, I made a split second decision. A shadowy form appeared in the window seat next to Lisa, existing only as a reflection within the glass. "Hello, Tattletale. Don't worry, I won't follow and I'll be here to help in the future. Just… don't tell your boss about me. I promise it'll work out to your benefit."

Lisa's power went into overdrive as the figure vanished from her sight. She created and dismissed possibilities as the speed of light and I listened intently as she began to model a few plausible scenarios. As she left my range, I shuddered despite feeling good about my message. Lisa was a good person in a bad situation, and I wanted to help. But her power was downright scary.

I considered the encounter as I rode toward downtown. Apparently, Thinkers were my arch-enemy, considering they would be best equipped to see through my illusions. I would need to be more careful than I had previously thought, if the second cape I met was able to partially compromise my location. Hopefully no one at the PRT had the sort of insight that Lisa could bring to bear. From what I knew of the local capes, there was no Thinker on the team, so that was a good thing for me. It was only the PRT troops I needed to worry about. I still couldn't break through to affect non-parahuman minds, not for lack of trying.

I was getting into the thick of the downtown area when two Perspectives expanded my senses, almost at the same time. Apparently, they both had day jobs, as their thoughts were turned towards mundane business matters, but I was still able to glean their identities. Kaiser and Krieg, working their day jobs at Medhall Corp, Brockton Bay's very own pharmaceutical giant. I scowled and shook my head at the revelation as they dropped from my range after only a few seconds. Medhall was apparently a front for the local Nazi gang, Empire 88. Joy. Well, that was information on which to act another day. Today was about reconnaissance, so I kept going for 3 more stops before exiting the bus. A few more blocks and I saw the PRT building across the street.

I didn't approach of course. Going into the lion's den was completely foolish for someone like me. Besides, my range was more than capable of enclosing the entire building in my influence. I took refuge in a Starbucks across the street and ordered a tea. I took a seat away from the window and took a notebook and pen from my bag. Hopefully it looked like I was doing homework.

I had received six new Perspectives as I had approached the PRT building and I had to stop myself from bouncing in my seat with excitement. Jackpot! I focused on the influx of sensations, emotions, thoughts, and actions, learning everything I could about the local Protectorate and Wards. Shadow Stalker was here, of course, watching some sort of console with various feeds from around the city. She was in a poor mood, even more than normal, so I quickly surmised it to be some sort of dreaded chore. Nothing to learn there, moving on.

Vista was currently in the gym, practicing warping space to keep a ball rolling around the room. By twisting the space of the floor, she made a constant downhill slope for the ball to roll across. It was actually quite mesmerizing to see it from Vista's point of view. The blue padded floor rolled and undulated under her power. There was no sound to her power, of course, just a silent and casual breaking of the laws of physics. Vista herself was obviously enjoying the exercise, as it had recently occurred to her that warping the space of the ground was a viable tactic for changing the battlefield.

Clockblocker, Dennis, was currently playing a prank on his fellow ward. He cradled an almost bursting water balloon in his hands, with two fingers carefully pinching a needle between them. He crept into Aegis- Carlos' room. I blushed at the sight of the boy's well-toned torso as he slept, but certainly appreciated the view. Clockblocker held the balloon over his friend's head and popped it with the needle, simultaneously freezing the orb of water in time. He retracted his hands and slowly crept away from the bedside. His thoughts were somewhat darker than Vista's, his pranks revealing a somewhat mischievous sense of humor. He wasn't anything like Shadow Stalker, of course, just… a rebel at heart.

The Wards were not the only capes there, of course. Currently Miss Militia and Armsmaster were inside the glass and steel building. Miss Militia was doing paperwork and had a sunny disposition similar to Vista. Armsmaster was at a computer console in some sort of laboratory, scanning over lines of code in one monitor and data about Endbringers in another- the Simurgh in particular. His thoughts were dark and troubled, and he was intense. Very similar to Shadow Stalker, but without the inherent cruelty. He was an extremely driven person, and I certainly wouldn't want to find out what he did to those who got in his way.

I took as sip of my tea, glancing around the Starbucks. No one was paying attention to me, and no capes in my range had a view of my haven. I jotted down a few details as I considered my power in the presence of multiple capes. I was astounded that I was able to process so much information simultaneously. I was experiencing six different lives in addition to my own, all of it with a clarity as if I was in six different places. Dreaming, training, brooding, pranking, writing, and coding. Not only was I receiving it all, I was able to consider each of my Perspectives, and if I so chose, could create six 'augmented' realities for my Perspectives. It was... humbling... in a way. Practicing on Shadow Stalker earlier during school allowed me to get familiar with my powers, but I didn't care for the girl at all. Frankly? She was a terrible person. But Lisa, and now the Wards and Protectorate? They were nice people, for the most part. Armsmaster was a bit intense, and Clockblocker's pranks and humor were in need of moderation, but otherwise, I loved the idea of knowing and working with these capes. But with what my powers were?

Armsmaster pounded his fist into the desk next to the holographic keyboard and I began to pay closer attention to what was frustrating him. Hardest to predict. Capable of telepathy and precognition. Motives involve cascading events too far into future to model. Also need to factor possibility of Simurgh knowing about and circumventing the predictive software. Armsmaster's thoughts continued on in the same onslaught of progress around increasing the efficiency of his program, but it was his visceral reaction to when he considered the abilities of the Endbringer. Telepathy and precognition. He had experienced a twisting of his gut when he considered it. Those were the Simurgh's trademarks, and while I couldn't tell the future, I was most certainly telepathic and then some.

So.

Shit.

I certainly didn't want to reveal the full extent of my abilities with that sort of fear about telepathy floating around. But perhaps I didn't have to. I considered what I had done with Lisa, and the beginnings of a plan began to creep into my mind. With my sort of power and ability to manipulate a cape's reality, actually being in the presence of capes was not necessary. I smirked as I flipped the page on my notebook and began a new topic. It was time to plan out my big debut.