Chapter 7: Taylor, a Resolve, and Biosuit
The sky hung low and overcast, a dull gray blanket that seemed to leach warmth from everything it touched. I hovered unnoticed above the rooftops, observing Brockton Bay from a distance. Below me, the streets were a patchwork of decay, the buildings aged and tired, much like the people who inhabited them. Gang symbols marred the walls here and there, stark reminders of who truly held power in this place.
The noise of the city reached my ears with unnatural clarity. At first, my newly enhanced senses were overwhelmed by the cacophony, but a slight adjustment—a trivial act with my upgraded Biokinesis—eased the strain. My goal lay ahead, her power now an easily trackable beacon.
Today was April 8th, just another day in the life of Taylor Hebert. Another day when the world seemed to conspire against the 15-year-old girl.
I flew at a steady pace, honing in on the signal of her power, which led me to Winslow High. With almost every Cape in the city now equipped with a copied version of their abilities, I could pinpoint powers with ease. My "Cape Radar" made it simple to identify Parahuman targets within range—and potentially, even beyond it.
The sidewalk near the school was cracked and uneven, littered with bits of trash. Winslow loomed ahead, a dreary building with faded paint and the occasional cracked window. The gang symbols here were more than just graffiti—they were territorial markers, the battlefield lines in a school where the gangs recruited their next generation. Instead of a place of learning, Winslow felt like an infestation of everything wrong, a place where Taylor had to navigate daily.
I followed her presence, drifting around the few students and a teacher who roamed the halls. None of them noticed me, as expected.
Winslow felt different from the schools I remembered from my own past. It was more chaotic, a barely contained war zone rather than a center of education. Teenagers wearing gang colors eyed each other warily, while the rest tried to keep a low profile, avoiding any interaction that might provoke conflict. All the while, teachers droned on, either ignoring the whole spectable or just powering through it like it was none of their business.
Morning classes were still in session, and a quick glance into Taylor's classroom confirmed that, so far, everything was quiet. I was cautious about approaching her, knowing she often used her bugs for surveillance. But thanks to my Stranger powers and her unfortunate Master classification, she couldn't detect me through her insects. I avoided using her powers as well, not that I needed them for anything here.
From my silent observation, I got a clear look at Taylor—a tall, stick-thin girl with long, curly black hair and glasses, dressed in a brown hooded sweatshirt over a green t-shirt.
She looked like a kid.
Despite knowing her age, I had always pictured Taylor as someone older, a late teen closer to 18 than someone barely three years into adolescence. Maybe it was the result of the myriad fanfics I'd read or the way she was portrayed in the stories, but she had always seemed older in my head.
Seeing her now, I felt uneasy. In hindsight, some of the fanfics I'd read suddenly felt wrong. Why had I imagined a 15-year-old girl to be older? Even though she was tall for her age, her face clearly marked her as a mid-teen.
And why was a girl so young fated to endure so much misery, only to end up saving the Multiverse? Worm was an interesting story by many accounts, and I could say that even though I hadn't actually read the canon material. But the contrast between the girl in front of me and the future she was supposed to face seemed almost absurd. I just couldn't connect this girl with the villain, warlord, hero, and savior she was destined to become.
And yet, that was how things were—or would be if nothing changed.
I lightly tapped into Gallant's Empath power, sensing her emotions. Strain radiated from her, her shoulders hunched and her body tense, as if she were bracing for something bad to happen. She had every reason to be on edge. If canon held true, today's lunch would only justify her fears.
Pulling my attention away from Taylor, I looked around the nearly empty hallway. I still had time, so I decided to observe the local education system some more. It wasn't great, but it was different enough to pique my curiosity. Eventually, I left the hallway and began to explore the surrounding area, silently taking in the miserable place Taylor had to face every day.
There was a certain enjoyment in being the Invisible Man. You could observe the world without disturbing it with your own presence.
-x-
Taylor Hebert
Lunch came around and Taylor sought refuge in the girls' bathroom on the third floor. It was far from the noisy cafeteria, far from the judging eyes and whispering voices of her classmates. Far from the Three. She slipped inside the moment one of the stalls was empty and locked herself in, the door a flimsy barrier between her and the world that seemed so determined to break her.
Sitting on the closed toilet seat, her lunch—a pita wrap—wrapped in foil lay on her lap. She also had a book open on her lap, but her eyes kept drifting from the pages, her thoughts elsewhere. It barely took 10 minutes to finish her lunch. The hour-long lunch break felt too long, too exposed. She tried to lose herself in the book, to escape for just a little while. Reading about the Triumvirate's biography was somewhat intriguing, even if she questioned some of the facts mentioned in it.
But then, the door to the bathroom creaked open. Taylor's breath caught in her throat. She recognized the voices before she even saw them—Emma, Madison, and Sophia. Her tormentors were here. They'd found her hiding spot and had come to ruin it. She'd never be able to stay hidden from them here. Not anymore. She couldn't grieve on that as she had more urgent problems in front of her.
"Taylor, are you in here?" Emma's voice echoed through the bathroom, sickly sweet, mocking in its feigned concern. Taylor's grip on her book tightened, her knuckles white as she willed herself to stay silent, to become invisible. Hoping, in vain, that maybe they'd leave if she didn't answer.
Alas…
The sound of footsteps grew closer, and Taylor's heart pounded in her chest. She knew what was coming. There was a loud bang as the stall door was kicked, the force of it rattling the metal frame. "Come on, Hebert," Sophia's voice was hard, impatient. "We know you're in there."
Taylor squeezed her eyes shut, her body trembling. Not with abjact fear but from her attempts to keep her grip on her power.
Not now. I can't.
She knew that any response would only make things worse. And any Parahuman-based response would end with the involvement of Protectorate and her getting outed as a cape. She couldn't have that. Not because of something petty like this.
Another kick, harder this time, shook the door violently. "Open up, Taylor," Madison chimed in, her tone dripping with condescension that sounded somewhat childish to Taylor. "We just want to talk." Yeah, right. Taylor retorted mentally but remained silent. Taylor didn't move, didn't breathe.
"Oh, she's definitely in there. Let's do something fun." Taylor heard Emma speaking. She instantly grew more wary and anxious.
A moment later, the sound of liquid splashing down filled the stall. Cold juice poured over her, drenching her hair and clothes, and soaking into the pages of her book. She gasped, flinching as the sweet sticky liquid made contact and then clung to her hair, skin and clothes. The humiliation and frustration washed over her in waves, far more painful than they had any right to be.
Laughter erupted from the other side of the stall door—cruel, sharp, cutting into her like a knife. Madison's phone clicked as she snapped pictures from above, capturing Taylor's misery.
"Smile for the camera, Taylor~" she taunted, her voice sing-song.
Yet Taylor sat there, frozen in shock, her face hidden by her long hairs. Juice dripped from her hair, and her clothes started to cling to her skin, but she didn't move. She didn't cry. She wouldn't give them that satisfaction. But inside, she felt something breaking further—another piece of herself chipped away.
The trio lingered for a moment longer, their taunts and laughter echoing off the bathroom walls before they finally left, their voices fading as they disappeared down the hallway after having their fill of her misery.
The bathroom was silent now, except for the faint dripping of juice onto the floor. Taylor slowly stood, her legs shaky as she pushed the stall door open. She stepped out, her reflection in the mirror a distorted, pitiful image. Tears made it hard to see clearly. Her hair, the only noteworthy feature on her, a reminder that she was her mother's daughter, was plastered to her forehead, her clothes soaked through and her eyes were red-rimmed and weary.
She moved to the sink, her hands trembling as she turned on the tap, trying to wash away the sticky residue as she put her focus into the swarm to not think of her present situation. But no amount of water could cleanse the humiliation and frustration she felt, the stain of what they had done. Had been doing to her for so long.
Now cleaned but soaked, she stared at her reflection again, her eyes hollow. This was her life—an endless cycle of torment and humiliation. She felt so small, so powerless in the face of it all. And yet, somewhere deep inside her, a tiny spark of defiance still remained. A part of her that refused to be completely broken, no matter how much the three tried.
But that spark was faint, flickering, and she wasn't sure how much longer it would last. Alone, she looked at her miserable self and desolately pondered.
-x-
Taylor wasn't alone in the bathroom. I was there, watching from above the entrance, my hands clenched into fists, my heart aching a little at the miserable sight of the girl. I had wanted so badly to intervene, to stop those three girls from hurting her. But I knew I couldn't—not yet. Not in this way.
Appearing in a high school girls' bathroom with but a mere cloth mask, claiming it was for a heroic cause, would be a disaster waiting to happen. Those three were experts at twisting the truth, and any interference from me could be easily manipulated against Taylor. And worse, it could expose me in a way that would ruin everything I was trying to accomplish. I didn't think for a second I'd be defended by the victim given her own paranoia and distrust of others.
As much as it disgusted me to float there and just watch, I knew I had to let this play out. For now.
I glanced at the recording on the phone I'd taken from a store earlier. I didn't feel great about stealing it, but seeing how useful it was now made it easier to justify. The recording captured the entire incident—proof of the bullying Taylor endured in high definition. Proof that I—no, Taylor could use.
But this was only the beginning. With a few more of these clips, I could help Taylor expose the whole truth. Let everyone see what these girls really were. Let their supporters deal with the fallout when the evidence comes to light.
I watched as Taylor slowly washed her face, her movements sluggish and defeated. She was strong—stronger than she probably realized. It took sheer fucking will for someone with her power to not unleash a biblical plague upon the place of her constant torment and especially her tormentors. I know I wanted to smack those three and I was just a third party watching the whole thing like a creepy ghost. God, that was not a pleasant thought and I shuddered at what I was doing right now. An adult amn using a phone to record the contents inside a highschoool girl's washroom. Ugh!
Another thought thankfully distracted me from that suddering realization – Was it really the way to go?
I had a lot of powers. Yet I couldn't come up with a better strategy to deal with this mess. I'd read so many fan fics. Had seen so many ways the protagonists or versions of Taylor had dealt with this whole scenario. Some of them were genuinely fantastic and others more than a little outlandish but still feasible. But for the life of me, right now my mind couldn't remember how or what they did to solve it. Instead, I was left with this solution. A simple but hopefully good enough solution.
Back to Taylor. Right now, I could feel she was on the brink. She desperately needed help. She needed someone to show her that she wasn't alone in this.
And in that moment, I promised to myself I couldn't let this world break this poor girl. Not if I could help it. My inaction today was frustrating, but it was a necessity in my eyes. A small step toward a solution. And sometimes, even a small start could make all the difference.
With a final glance at the phone, I floated out of the bathroom, and out of the school building, my resolve hardening. I wouldn't fail her, unlike everyone else in this cruel world.
I watched briefly as Taylor also left the school. I decided to trail her back to her home, to ensure she didn't encounter any more problems. She'd had enough suffering for one day. For one life, really.
When she safely reached her house and entered it, I promptly left for my other tasks for today.
…
Thanks to my focus on all of this, I'd successfully managed to escape my own internal troubles. So, that was a positive aspect in this whole mess, I suppose.
Now I had to go to my next target: the local Junkyards.
-x-
Finding a junkyard was easy when you had high-speed flight and enhanced vision. I didn't need a map—I could just scan a large section of the city from above.
On the way, I had to make a brief stop when I noticed someone heading toward the space I was about to approach. I hovered behind a billboard, waiting, though I doubted they'd notice me due to my Phantom Presence currently being active. It was more of an instinctive response. As the flying Parahuman drew closer, I caught sight of her features and blinked in surprise. Blonde hair, fairly tall, and dressed in civilian clothing.
If it weren't for the fact that I could sense her powers, I might have mistaken her for Glory Girl. But this was Laserdream, Glory Girl's older cousin from the Pelham side. On closer inspection, I probably would've figured it out anyway—she looked a bit too old to be in high school.
I watched her cross my path, likely heading to visit her cousin, judging by the presence of Panacea's Biokinesis not too far away in the direction of her flight. Once she was gone, I resumed my flight. But not before dropping a silent thanks in her direction. Her flight was at the core of my flight powers and was really useful.
Before long, I reached my destination. For this occasion, I'd kept my Spatial Storage completely empty except for my (stolen) smartphone that I kept there for safe-keeping. While I could lift tons of weight with ease, there was a limit to how much I could carry while flying without accidentally dropping something. Not like I had a reliable way to bind everything together…
… Or did I?
I had Electromagnetism, but it was specialized—point-blank and not ideal for ranged effects. Still, I could use it to magnetically charge a large metal sheet, allowing it to hold a bunch of items on top through the power of magnetism.
I decided to test it out.
After a quick scan of the area to ensure there were no cameras—yes, I knew my Phantom Presence could hide me from conventional cameras and sensors, but that didn't stop me from checking—I summoned a large sheet of metal using Kaiser's power. It resembled one of those giant anime broadswords, but it was much wider, thicker, and too unwieldy to be called a blade by any metric. It was also heavily dulled, more like a slab of metal than a weapon, but my power allowed me to summon it without much difficulty. Especially once I separated the 'blade' part from the 'metal blade summoning'. I still couldn't shape the metals I summoned freely but I could make them in such shapes easily.
Next, I used Manpower's point-blank Electromagnetism to slowly charge the sheet. I got a surprise confirmation that it was working when the metal suddenly wrenched itself from my grasp and stuck to a nearby pile of electronics with a loud clang. The noise almost made me flinch.
I hovered in the air, tensed, scanning the area to make sure no one heard or came to investigate the noise. There didn't seem to be any response to it. Satisfied that I was still alone, I carefully discharged the metal after a few attempts—it was already losing its magnetism now that I wasn't actively charging it but the process would have taken some time without my intervention—and placed it on the ground. Lesson learned, I'd only activate the magnetic charge once I was done loading everything, and I'd hold it tightly to avoid another mishap.
It took me about half an hour to gather everything I needed. My powers guided me to the mechanical bits that would be most useful, and I managed to collect the majority of what I needed from this place. Another trip to a different junkyard would take care of the rest, hopefully. I still had plenty of daylight left.
Once I was ready, I used my super strength to mold the metal sheet into a diamond-shaped ball, better suited for holding the items. Finally, after magnetizing it, I kept it attached to my hands as I took off, carrying my haul. The ease with which I could use my new powers to streamline and ease the work made me feel oddly giddy, lifting my previously sour and grim mood quite a bit.
-x-
Once I deposited the first batch of materials at my temporary hideout, I flew back to the city to gather the rest. In just two trips and about an hour and a half, I had everything I needed, including biomass and several organisms. My Biokinesis assured me these could be molded into the biological machines that would produce the raw materials or aid in the creation process.
God, I'd have to thoroughly purge this place once I was done making my costume. Hopefully, no one would venture this far out...
Despite the premonition of the biological monstrocities I was about to build, I was excited. I'd hurried to gather everything so I could use the natural daylight to begin my work. Not that I couldn't work at night—I had decent night vision now—but it still dulled the colors. The dyeing and coloring needed daylight if I didn't want to mess up the shades. Not that I was too worried about that happening.
With everything laid out before me, I took a deep breath and let my Tinker powers and Biokinesis take over, so to speak.
The next few hours blurred as my mind became single-tracked. My hands and legs moved almost on their own, even though I retained perfect control and could have stopped at any time—I didn't. My limbs moved at super speed, with Velocity's power kicking in somewhere along the line to expedite the work.
In what felt like no time at all, though it was probably hours judging by the dimming light, I found myself staring at the finished product: a masterfully crafted bio-mechanical suit, ready to be my cape costume.
The suit lay on the makeshift workbench I'd fashioned with Kaiser's metal summoning and some hardened biomass. Its muted color palette—blacks, grays, and dark blues—had subtle, non-reflective patterns that would help me blend into Brockton Bay's urban environment. The edgy feel of the design didn't bother me one bit as I was too enamored with the overall features.
I touched the "fabric," a blend of smooth and rigid textures. The dark grey armor plating made from some super alloys that my powers pulled out of their multidimentional asses attached to various sections of the suit absorbed light rather than reflecting it. Inside, the suit was smooth and breathable, absorbing sweat and maintaining a comfortable temperature thanks to its thermal regulation properties.
The suit was rated for impressive levels of heat and cold resistance in general and was also impact, cut, and puncture-resistant. Additionally, it was dust, debris, electrical, chemical, and water-resistant, as well as flame retardant and explosion-resistant. And these were just its salient features.
As a Biosuit—though that little tidbit would require a powerful tinkertech microscope or scanner to uncover and bypass the anti-scanning tinkertech measures—it was also controllable via my Biokinesis. A smart design implementation also allowed me to change the suit's color scheme and, to a limited extent, its design. I could camouflage the whole thing quite well if I wanted.
For all intents and purposes, however, it looked like a treated cloth suit with armor plating. But those plates could withstand dozens of my full-power punches before giving in slightly, according to tests I'd conducted in simulated timelines during the design and testing process. And just to be clear my punches were incredibly strong now—with numerous augmentations and power-aided super strengths, I could hit like a bullet train at fighter jet speeds.
Along with the suit, I'd also ended up crafting various accessories: an integrated tool belt with expanded space (a neat little diversion from my Spatial Storage); tactical gloves with reinforced knuckles and fingertips; sturdy, waterproof combat boots with reinforced soles and steel toes; a modular mask that either covered my whole head, just the face or only covered the lower face, neck, and jawline, depending on my needs, and complete with bio-mechanical filters to protect against airborne toxins or chloroform—and even some of their Tinkertech equivalents; and finally, an attachable hood that I could easily hide within the suit, simply because I liked hoods.
But no cape! I had seen the Incredibles and I wasn't an idiot.
All of these accessories could attach seamlessly to my Biosuit, giving the appearance of a single-piece suit. They shared the same durability, resistances, and color-changing features as the suit itself.
All in all, I could say it was a very productive couple of hours. In fact, I was so productive, thanks to Velocity's super speed, that I'd finished what would have taken weeks for others in a single day—no just a few hours in a day.
What would Armsmaster think if he found out I could make high-performance Tinkertech Biosuits in a matter of hours? Oh, he'd lose his shit.
Well, assuming he didn't immediately try to apprehend me for doing Biotinkering, that is.
Yeah, I'd not be telling anyone about my Biosuit, especially not to the PRT. Piggot would go ape-shit and declare me an S-class threat before I could finish saying S-Class Threat.
Still, I chuckled at the mental image of an aggrieved Armsmaster, fuming because I'd just put his efficiency to shame.
Speaking of efficiency… I hope he goes out on patrol or something. He and Miss Militia—and Faultline's crew, almost forgot about them—were the only capes left in Brockton Bay whose powers I hadn't copied yet. It simply wouldn't do to have an incomplete set. My completionist side demanded that I finish copying all the powers in the city. Plus, I'd learned through this single session that there were a lot of limitations in Tinkering. There were more things I wanted to fit into this suit that would have been nice but the result would have been an over-inflated power armor rather than the slim and dynamic Power-suit I had in front of me. Armsmaster's power would let me accomplish my goals, though.
Efficiency and Miniaturisation. With Modularity, I could really pull out some crazy ideas. Or well, my Tinker powers could. I was just the relay and the main beneficiary.
I took a deep breath, then smiled like a kid.
It smelled so good—like the air was thick with awesomeness.
Then I immediately regretted it as the scent of funky, strange biomatter assaulted my nose.
Eugh, I needed to get rid of this mess. It'd slipped my mind but somewhere in the process, I'd blocked my sense of smell. I remembered why I'd done that and why it was a bad idea to enable them just now.
Damn it. I wanted to puke. It was only though the power of Biokinesis that I didn't physically do it. Only the mental imagery.
Looking around, the biological instruments and organism-machines I'd created now made me feel a little queasy now that I wasn't in the tinkering haze. I must have really been in a fugue state to not realize what I was truly doing. Well, I knew that theorectically, to some extent, but seeing it in front of me, without the context I had with my Biokinesis…
Yeah, I definitely needed to clean this up. No evidence should remain.
God, this is what the world outside must think when they said typical Biotinker's lab. The image in front of me, the bio-machines and experimental-organisms created a rather horrid picture for a typical person.
I stashed the suit and accessories in my Spatial Storage and started the thorough purging of any evidence that might hint at this place being used as a Biotinker lab— now or ever. I didn't actually need most of it anyway to do repairs or improvements to my suit. I could do that with a lab that'd be much more in line with your standard tinkertech laboratories.
Half an hour of Biokinesis and a liberal use of Pyrokinesis later, I'd removed all traces of my work.
Sure, the place now looked like someone had gone a little flame-happy with a flamethrower, but that didn't matter. Nobody would come so far out here anyway if I didn't alert them, and even if they did, all they'd find was evidence of a bizzarre fire.
My Pyrokinesis was a reserved power, so I wouldn't be using it freely. In short, I was good to go.
As I left my temporary base, I had a sudden realization.
Ah, shit. I forgot to eat today.
So, the next stop was naturally a fast-food joint. And this time, I had some money to afford it. No more stealing fast food. It was time I started stealing from the gangs instead.
-x-
Crystal Pelhem(Laserdream)
Crystal Pelham—Laserdream to most—soared over the city, the wind whipping past her. Flying was usually her escape, the one place she could let her mind drift without the weight of everything on the ground. But today, it felt... different. Not better, exactly, but less nauseating than usual. Her stomach didn't churn the way it sometimes did when she pushed herself.
She chalked it up to one of those weird, inexplicable things and shook it off. Now wasn't the time to experiment.
Her last class of the day had ended early, giving her an excuse to check on Amy. Her cousin had been called into the hospital again. Things had been quiet for New Wave recently—no disasters, no gang fights spiraling into chaos—but Amy didn't get quiet days. For her, it was constant. Emergencies, surgeries, frantic doctors shoving impossible cases her way. Crystal had no idea how she managed it. Healing might've been the ultimate gift, but it came with its own brand of hell.
Crystal sighed, that tight, heavy knot in her chest tightening. Amy was going to run herself into the ground if she didn't ease up, and no one else seemed willing—or able—to stop her. Vicky, for all her good intentions and boundless energy, wouldn't help. If anything, she'd double down, cheerleading Amy into working harder because she genuinely believed it was the right thing to do. Vicky wasn't heartless, but she had blind spots a mile wide when it came to their family. Once she made up her mind about something being good or bad, that was the end of it.
Which meant it fell to Crystal to intervene. Again.
She adjusted her course, the hospital looming closer in the distance. She wasn't naïve enough to think she'd talk Amy into taking a real break, not when her cousin's bullheadedness rivaled even Vicky's. But if she could at least pull her away from the chaos for a little while, she'd count it as a win. Even stubbornness had limits, and Crystal was determined to push Amy just far enough to remind her that she was human too. And that she needed breaks.
For that reason, she took Vicky's place today as her cousin's air-taxi back home. That thought brought a chuckle of amusement out of her. It was a topic of amusement for all the younger generation of New Wave, including Amy herself when she wasn't feeling grumpy.
But unfortunately, she couldn't hold onto that amusement for long.
As the hospital came into view, Crystal's pace slowed. She scanned the area until she spotted Amy sitting on a bench out front. Her cousin was hunched over, still wearing her healer costume, her shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. Even from this distance, Crystal could see the dark circles under her eyes. Crystal landed softly and walked over, trying not to startle her cousin.
"Hey, Amy," she called out gently as she approached.
Amy looked up, her expression blank for a second before she registered Crystal's presence. "Hey." Her voice was flat, tinged with weariness.
Crystal dropped onto the bench beside her, studying her cousin's face. "You look like you got run over by a truck."
Amy snorted, a weak attempt at humor. "Feel like it too."
"You've been going nonstop again, haven't you?" Crystal asked, though she already knew the answer.
Amy shrugged, her gaze fixed somewhere on the pavement. "It's been busy. Bunch of injuries from an Empire rally. You know how it is."
Crystal winced at the mention of the Empire. Just the name was enough to send a sour jolt through her. But she smothered the reaction—New Wave was supposed to maintain a polished, controlled image, even out of costume. Amy, on the other hand, didn't care. If anyone had earned the right to be grumpy in public, it was the East Coast's best healer.
"Doesn't mean you have to kill yourself over it," Crystal said, her voice soft but firm. She reached out, resting a hand on Amy's arm. "You've got to take a break sometime, Ames."
Amy sighed, the kind of deep, weary sigh that spoke of more than just physical fatigue. "I can't. People need me. If I don't heal them, who will?"
Crystal frowned. It was the same excuse Amy always gave , but today there was something... off about the way she said it. Like she wasn't entirely convinced herself.
Crystal didn't miss it. "You always say that," Crystal pressed. "But today... I don't know. You seem different. Like something's bothering you."
Amy tensed, her shoulders drawing up slightly. For a moment, it looked like she might shut the conversation down entirely. But then she spoke, her voice quieter. "It's nothing. Just tired."
"It's not nothing," Crystal insisted. "Come on, you can tell me. What's really going on?"
Amy hesitated, her gaze dropping again. When she finally spoke, her words were slow, like she was struggling to explain even to herself. "It's... usually, there's this pressure. Like I have to keep going, keep helping, no matter what. But today... it's not as strong. It's quieter."
Crystal blinked, alarm flickering through her. That sounded wrong. Like Master/Stranger wrong. "Wait, when you say 'pressure,' do you mean an actual voice? Like—"
"No! God, no." Amy cut her off, looking up sharply. "Not like that. It's just... you know how you have that little voice in your head? Your conscience or whatever? It's like that. Just... louder. Usually."
Crystal relaxed, but only slightly. "Okay, so not Mastered. Good. But still... that doesn't sound normal, Amy."
Amy shrugged, visibly uncomfortable. "It's fine. I'm fine. It's just... weird. I don't know."
Crystal studied her for a moment, her worry deepening. Amy wasn't fine. She never was, not really. But pushing her too hard right now wouldn't help. "Look," she said, her tone gentler now, "maybe this is a good thing. If that pressure's letting up, maybe you can take it as a sign to ease off a little. Start thinking about yourself for a change."
Amy didn't respond right away. Her expression was a mix of confusion and something else—reluctance, maybe? Crystal wasn't sure. "Maybe," Amy murmured finally, though she didn't sound convinced.
"You don't have to figure it out alone," Crystal said. "We're here for you, okay? Me, Vicky... all of us."
Amy nodded faintly, but Crystal could tell the words hadn't fully sunk in.
Crystal sighed and stood, holding out a hand. "Come on. Let's get you out of here for a bit. You need some air."
Amy hesitated, then took her hand. As they rose into the sky, Crystal glanced over at her cousin. Amy still looked worn out, but maybe, just maybe, a little less weighed down.
It wasn't enough, though. Not by a long shot. Crystal made a mental note to talk to Vicky later. They needed to do better for Amy. They'd let her carry too much for too long.
That had to change.
-x-
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
The_POZ
The_POZ Crystal’s POV is an add-on from the next alternate POVs chapter. I cut it from there and pasted it here as it fit more here timeline-wise.
Also, if you noticed, Amy wasn’t being as forthcoming as it might have looked. She obviously can’t tell certain things to Crystal (those who know, know) and twisted them to what she said to Crystal instead. Hmm… wonder what’s actually happening in Amy’s head…
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone