A/N: Hello there! Another attempt at a Worm fanfiction, crossover with a certain part of League of Legends lore. I started writing it in 2022 right as I started Might as Well, and that was much more interesting at the time, so this fell to the wayside. Maybe I will continue, maybe I won’t, but I still want to make sure I go over it and correct a few things. Have fun reading!Summary: Due to a freak weather phenomenon, Brockton Bay is struck by a sudden snowstorm. In its frozen streets, a certain girl, already struggling against the world, is left alone with her suffering.And something notices.Something that thrives in endless battle and bloodshed. Something that never yields. Something that recognizes a kindred spirit.The new year arrives beneath an unexpected storm, and before long, Brockton Bay will become home to the Unrelenting Storm.

Chapter 01

Brockton Bay was always a weird city weather-wise.

In the summer, they had torrential rains side by side with sunny days that tried to melt the skin off people's bones. In the winter, they enjoyed slightly cold days with occasional snow that did nothing more than make the ugly city a little prettier. At least, until the snow mixed with the dirt and the entire city was covered in dirt-gray slush.

But sometimes, the winter snowfall wasn't gentle or peaceful. And sometimes, it didn't come with ample warning so that people could prepare, buy the necessary things, and then huddle inside their homes, watching the gently falling snowflakes through their windows. Or take enough drugs so that they wouldn't care.

To each their own…

And fortunately, or depending on how you looked at it, unfortunately, this is what happened during one early January week. The students were returning to their schools, either joyous because they would be seeing their friends they hadn't seen since the beginning of the Christmas break or desolate because they would once again be forced to walk the halls of education.

And when one thought about the quality of said halls in Brockton Bay, then they would understand why some people would rather not walk through them. Or even see or touch them.

In the morning, everything was alright. The city was covered by a gentle fog creeping in from the bay, creating a rather pretty sight as the rainbow-colored light of the Rig's shield broke through the natural phenomenon, but as time passed, people noticed that the temperature was dropping rapidly.

Questions were asked, experts were consulted, and quietly the schools of Brockton Bay were instructed to limit the day to a half-day to give their precious students enough time to get home before the expected snowstorm, or worse, hit the city.

So, it was following this unexpected but rather banal event that the information slowly spread and reached the principals and teachers of the schools. They did not hesitate or worry. After all, why would they? Things like unexpected snowstorms were nothing new. Ever since the Endbringers showed up and their massive impact on nature had altered the weather patterns that humanity had gotten used to.

Thus, with well-practiced ease, they dusted off the procedures to be followed in cases like this and began to organize their schools.

Including Winslow High School…

Granted, at Winslow, the procedure was simply the principal telling the secretary to warn the teachers about the half-day, then going back to doing her job. The secretary, not wanting to bother with the ancient microphone that they used to announce things to the student body, since the scratching sound it made hurt her ears, simply found the closest teacher and told him the required information with the understanding that he would pass it on to the others.

The teacher, not having been swallowed by apathy thanks to the general situation, did the bare minimum, thinking that the secretary would inform the other teachers and students. He announced the half-day in his next class and then spent the rest of the lesson doing things on autopilot while planning the rest of his afternoon. He had bought a rather sizable selection of recreational materials at the beginning of the Christmas break, and he still had some left over. Knowing this, he decided that the best thing to do would be to partake and watch the expected snowstorm.

He didn't see, not that he would have cared, as two students, a very pretty redhead and an equally good-looking, athletic black girl, looked at each other while he was explaining the material on the blackboard, then grinned.

There was a brief flurry of notes exchanged between the two girls, and then one of them propped up her books so as not to be too obvious while she began furiously typing away on her phone.

By the end of the lesson, the entire school knew about the half-day, including the teachers. So, it was with great excitement that they left their classrooms. Some even decided to ditch school right away. The school's population decreased even further when some people convinced the PE teachers that there was no point in holding classes because of the approaching cold. Said teachers, not caring or also wanting to leave the school earlier, agreed.

By the time the clock hit twelve, Winslow High was completely deserted. The teachers were at home or at their preferred relaxation places. The children were either also home or out causing trouble.

Everyone except one person.

One girl, who didn't know when to give up.

And as the temperature began to drop even further, and frost began to creep into the neglected institution through the spotty insulation, she once again cursed those who had hurt her.

Those who had ignored her plight.

Those who had refused to answer her call for aid.

She cursed the world.

But the world was home, sitting under blankets, sipping cocoa (or something stronger), while watching as Brockton Bay was slowly but surely enveloped by an enormous snowstorm.

Taylor didn't know how long she had been in the locker. Time had lost almost all meaning in the darkness.

At first, when she was shoved into it, she blacked out as her head hit the metal walls of the locker thanks to her height. When she came to, she was alone in the darkness. Her only companion was the unbelievable smell and the horrifying thoughts that crept into her brain as she tried to figure out what exactly those three had decided to do to her locker.

Unfortunately, she could also feel the innumerable insects and bugs, no doubt born in the cesspit that her enemies had created. Despite feeling herself starting to panic, she tried to fight down the panic, as she knew without any doubt that if she gave in to the hysteria threatening her, she would die.

Instead, she squirmed around in the disgusting mess that her locker had become and tried to use her meager muscles to open the door, but she quickly gave up, as there was no way her spindly little arms would be enough to break the padlock.

She brought that thing exactly because it was advertised that only a specialized tool would be able to cut through it.

Not that it stopped them.

Her next plan was, after swallowing the bile that had become a constant presence in her throat thanks to the smell, to begin yelling.

She called for the teachers. She threatened Emma and Sophia. She called out to the janitor that she had become familiar with due to the constant mishaps that had befallen her over the last two years.

She called out to everybody and anybody.

But nobody answered.

She banged on the door. She cried, yelled, and roared, but it was all for naught.

Throughout the entire process, one thought kept repeating in her head.

'I won't give up. I won't beg. I won't let them win.'

And as she slowly felt what little warmth remained seep away, not once did she beg to be let out.

But her energy reserves were dwindling, and her hope of getting out was decreasing by the minute. Taylor tried to keep track of time by counting the seconds based on her heartbeat, but thanks to the situation, her heartbeat was so erratic that she gave up after only a few minutes.

In the end, she was left alone with her thoughts as she imagined the cold creeping in and enveloping her body. First, she slowly lost the feeling in her legs, which was a small relief since she could no longer feel the countless insect bites. Then her hands followed, and as her senses were gradually smothered by the approaching darkness, Taylor's last thoughts were fragmented.

She thought about her absentee father, her school life, the empty, uncaring eyes of the principal, and the cruel looks of enjoyment on the faces of the other students. But more than anything else, one thought dominated them all.

'Why did I deserve this?'

Taylor woke with a jolt, standing up straight in the middle of a clearing covered by pristine white snow. In her confusion, seeing that she was in a place she had never seen before, not even in books, she momentarily forgot about what had happened to her previously and instead tried to make sense of the new event that seemed determined to interfere with her life.

"Where the hell am I?"

Upon closer examination, as she began spinning around, trying to find something that would explain her sudden appearance in a new place, she noticed that it wasn't a clearing but rather a mountaintop.

How did she know this?

The entire mountain was surrounded by a raging storm.

Taylor could see individual ice crystals traveling at hurricane-level speeds, similar to the videos they had watched about hurricanes in Kansas during class. Some of the crystals were the size of her head, and some looked like they would have been able to crush her house with their weight.

And despite what one would expect, the entire mountaintop was deathly silent. Somehow, however, Taylor could still hear the raging storm and, for an equally confusing reason, she could see through it.

She saw the storm beyond the mountaintop she was standing on as it ravaged the land. It ground down mountains, created new ones from ice and stone, and moved enough snow to bury Brockton Bay beneath several meters of white. At the same time, it revealed new growth, everything from evergreen trees to fields of flowers she had never seen before, only for them to be instantly buried beneath another mountain's worth of snow.

It was as if the storm was waging a never-ending war against nature, while nature itself used that same storm to renew itself.

As she beheld the confusing series of events, slowly but surely, the memories of her time in the locker returned, and with them came her tears and the feeling of utter betrayal.

With a storm raging around the mountaintop and an equally great storm raging within her soul, Taylor huddled in the middle of the peak. She sat on the room-temperature snow that somehow wasn't soaking through her miraculously clean clothes. Every time she remembered the sloshing sound the filth had made, she felt death crawl up her spine.

Her legs were drawn against her chest as she sobbed uncontrollably.

But eventually, her tears dried up, leaving behind nothing but emptiness.

There was nothing left to cry over.

Nothing left to lament.

She might have fallen asleep, but honestly, Taylor didn't really care.

At that moment, she was simply wrestling with her feelings about her situation. At first, Taylor thought she should be happy that she wasn't back inside her locker, but the current situation wasn't much better.

'At least I'm clean…'

Time passed, and finally, Taylor uncurled from her position and changed into one where she was lying on her back, her legs and arms stretched out, her eyes staring unfocused upward. She watched as uncountable ice crystal shards ground together, creating a gentle mist that was carried away by the ravaging storm.

In the end, for lack of anything better to do, she simply sat up and began screaming back at the storm.

She screamed about her situation.

She screamed about school.

She ranted about the girls who had made her life unbearable, her father's inattention, and finally, about the gnawing hole in her heart that had been born the day her mother didn't return home.

Ultimately, she was left on her knees, leaning forward on her arms, breathing heavily as tears streamed down her face.

Still alone, in the middle of a silent storm that was doing its best to destroy everything.

Slowly, Taylor sat back on her knees and tried to clean her face with the hem of her shirt. Finally, after doing a somewhat adequate job, she let out a quiet huff.

"Now what?"

Thankfully, her question was answered.

Though not in the way she expected.

The moment the last word left her parched lips, the storm stilled for a single second before picking up with even greater speed. Taylor watched as the storm grew denser and denser until she could only see the impossibly fast-moving mixture of ice, snow, and stone.

The rest of the world vanished behind an opaque wall of pure power and destruction.

Then, before she could panic, certain parts of the storm wall began to bulge in front of her.

Gigantic bubbles of snow and ice extended outward from the storm wall while it continued spinning at dizzying speeds.

Taylor, in a moment of panic, began scooting backward, but stopped when she realized she was standing on a circular mountaintop. If she touched the storm, she would probably be destroyed within seconds.

Instead, she watched in morbid fascination as the expanding sections of the storm began to move.

Slowly but surely, a three-dimensional shape began to take form as the extruded parts of the storm wall shifted into position.

At first glance, the shape reminded her of a wolf.

But after carefully examining it, she realized it was the head and face of a bear.

For a long while, she remained frozen, staring at the face as it stayed extended from the storm wall while the storm continued raging behind it.

Then it opened its eyes.

For a moment that felt like an eternity, Taylor saw stars being born in those eyes.

She saw words being destroyed and recreated. Battles fought by armies so enormous they shook the heavens themselves. She saw mighty warriors exchanging blows, desperate beings belonging to all manner of races, some she recognized from fantasy or science-fiction novels and some she had no words to describe, clawing their way toward victory.

All of it was backlit by an electric blue light that reminded her of comforting summer storms, while also making her shiver with memories of the storms that had once driven her beneath her blankets as a child.

Then the creature shook itself, causing chunks of ice and snow to fall to the ground.

All that remained were the giant eyes of the bear's head, formed from the storm itself, shining with electric blue light as they stared directly at Taylor.

"GREETINGS, MORTAL WOMAN!"

The creature opened its colossal maw, revealing equally enormous teeth, and roared at Taylor.

Despite the sheer volume, the sound didn't hurt.

If anything, it was comforting. It reminded her of when her father taught her how to ride a bicycle. That comforting certainty that he was behind her, and if anything happened, he would be there to catch her.

"Er, hello?" she replied hesitantly, not knowing what was happening, but somehow understanding that this giant bear-face-thing was her only way out.

"I saw your fight, woman! I approve!” The voice was slightly quieter this time, though it was still loud enough that the sound waves caused Taylor's clothes to ripple. "I am here to offer you a chance to continue the fight!"

Taylor opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

The bear's head ignored her silence and continued. "A woman grown, such as yourself, must be able to protect herself!"

That caused Taylor to react.

"I'm not an adult yet…" she spoke quietly, unsure of what the giant would do if she contradicted it.

"NONSENSE! You have bled in all the ways that matter! You are a woman grown!" roared the bear in response, causing Taylor to take a step backward.

"Okay?"

"You have experienced BATTLE! You fought against your ENEMIES! You did not SURRENDER!"

There was a slight pause as the storm's speed increased once again.

"You ARE a WARRIOR!"

"Alright?"

Taylor couldn't help but feel utterly confused. Though, strangely enough, it felt a little nice that somebody, even if it was a giant bear's head made of storm and ice, acknowledged her suffering.

The voice continued, ignoring her inner turmoil.

"I AM THE THUNDER'S ROAR! THE GREAT STORM! THE VALHIR! THEY CALL ME THE RUIN, THE THOUSAND-PIERCER BEAR, AND HE WHO STANDS!"

The storm shook with every title, the sound reverberating through the peak despite nothing around Taylor that could reflect the sound.

"BUT MOST OF ALL, I AM THE RELENTLESS STORM."

The electric blue eyes burned brighter.

"VOLIBEAR."

Taylor stumbled another step backward at the aggressive introduction. She could practically taste summer storms on her tongue as the sound of his roar washed over her.

"And I'm Taylor?"

"I care not for your name, woman! You are a warrior! That is enough for me!"

Taylor glared slightly. "Then why am I here?"

"To give you an opportunity, woman!"

"Do I get a choice in this?"

"No!"

Taylor's glare intensified.

"Why the hell not?"

"DO YOU WISH TO PERISH?"

"What?"

The voice sounded almost sad when it continued. "You are still within the claws of the metal, whence you came. This is merely a meeting of minds, woman!"

It took Taylor several seconds to translate what he meant, but she couldn't help but blanch when she realized what the bear was saying.

"Can you help me get out of there?" she asked, making sure not to beg.

One, she had made a promise to herself back when she realized nobody would help her: she would never, ever beg. Second, she didn't think someone called the Thousand-Piercer Bear would appreciate begging.

"NO!"

"Then–"

"ONLY YOU CAN HELP YOURSELF!"

"HOW?" She roared the word back, frustrated beyond reason while still completely confused by the entire situation. None of this made sense. Taylor thought she was hallucinating in her final moments inside the locker, and that thought continued gnawing at the back of her mind.

The bear's head simply grinned, showcasing its mighty fangs. "ACCEPT MY OFFER, AND YOU SHALL BE SET FREE! FREE TO FIGHT YOUR BATTLES ANEW!"

Slowly, a shape began to form in front of Taylor. Within seconds, it rapidly transformed into a transparent snowflake filled with lightning and storms, hovering above the ground and spinning around its central axis.

Taylor was beginning to sense a theme.

She looked at the snowflake.

Then at the head.

Then back at the snowflake.

"What do I do with this?"

"TOUCH IT!" answered the head, staring at her expectantly with its enormous blue eyes.

Taylor could practically feel the anticipation radiating from the bear. "And then what?"

"YOU SHALL BE SET FREE!"

"That's it?"

"DO YOU WISH TO BE FREE OF YOUR SUFFERING? DO YOU WISH TO DEFEAT YOUR ENEMIES? DO YOU WISH TO MAKE YOUR LIFE YOUR OWN?"

"Yes?"

"ARE YOU ASKING OR ANSWERING?" The roar forced Taylor to stumble backward beneath the sheer force of the sound.

But despite the fear it created, she felt something inside her ignite. A small seed, almost an ember that was oh-so-familiar to her. The same ember that had kept her sane while enduring the assault of someone she had once called a sister.

She squared her shoulders and, with a defiant look, answered the question with a roar of her own.

"Yes!"

"THEN TOUCH IT, WOMAN, AND BECOME THE GREATEST WARRIOR THE FRELJORD HAS EVER SEEN!"

"Freljord?" Taylor asked, carefully attempting to pronounce the unfamiliar word.

The head didn't answer. Instead, it simply tilted slightly, gesturing toward the world around them.

"Oh…"

'So either I'm hallucinating and dying, or something is offering me some kind of power while I'm dying… Fantastic.'

She took one more look at the snowflake, then looked back at the storm-forged head hovering above her. She felt the burning ember of defiance running through her veins and considered her options.

"And what do you want from me in exchange?"

She had read Faust. She wasn't about to accept a deal without knowing the terms.

At her question, the bear let out an impossibly loud laugh.

"NOTHING, WOMAN! YOU HAVE NOTHING THAT I, THE GREAT STORM, WOULD NEED!"

"Then why are you doing this?"

"I SUPPORT THOSE WHO FIGHT THEMSELVES!" came the simple answer. "You fought for what you believed in! You never gave up! You never compromised! YOU ARE A TRUE WARRIOR!"

Taylor looked around, searching for anything that might give her an idea of what to do. But all she saw was the raging storm, now dotted with sparks of electricity; the giant bear's head made of ice and wind; and the snowflake that had grown from the ground before her, still rotating peacefully.

'Fuck it! What's the worst that could happen?'

Before her sudden bravery could disappear, Taylor took several hurried steps forward, almost stumbling as she reached out and touched the snowflake.

Instantly, everything froze.

The storm and the ice crystals in the air.

Even Taylor herself was frozen. She couldn't move. The only thing she could control was her eyes, which began darting around in panic.

Her panic was short-lived as a surge of energy pulsed through her, chasing away the fear and replacing it with anger.

Anger that she had felt when nobody helped her after Sophia slammed her into the locker. The fury she felt when that detestable secretary shredded her documents in front of her. The outrage she felt watching her father return home from work every day, more defeated than the last.

It was as if every small piece of anger she had carried over the past two years had been dragged into the light. And as she submerged herself in that anger, feeling it threaten to erupt from within her, she knew there was more waiting in the deepest parts of her mind.

But she didn't care because she was angry.

She wanted to roar, snarl, and spit.

She wanted to tear and destroy.

Then, before she could lose herself in the intoxicating fury, the booming voice of the bear dragged her back.

"GOOD! FEEL THE ANGER! FEEL THE STRENGTH OF THE BLOOD! DO NOT LET THEM STOP YOU!"

"USE YOUR CLAWS TO TEAR APART YOUR ENEMIES! LET YOUR ROAR SHAKE THEIR SOULS! LET YOUR SHADOW SHELTER YOUR PEOPLE!"

"FIGHT! FIGHT FOR WHAT IS YOURS!"

The mountain shook, and the storm raged.

"I, DESTRUCTION, STRENGTH, AND STORM MADE MANIFEST! I, THE ONE WHO IS UNSTOPPABLE AND WHO REPRESENTS THE FURY OF THE FRELJORD, CALL UPON YOU TO FIGHT!"

The blue eyes burned bright, capturing Taylor’s attention fully.

"PROVE YOUR METTLE ON THE BATTLEFIELD, TAYLOR HEBERT!"

Suddenly, darkness approached from the corner of her vision, and Taylor felt herself growing faint. Before the darkness could fully consume her, she heard one final roar. The roar reached deep inside her, touching that small ember that had maintained her resolve throughout the tumultuous two years.

Despite the anger and confusion flooding through her body, Taylor had one last coherent thought before she was lost to the darkness.

'I want to do that too…'

Then there was nothing.

Again.

CRACK!

CRUNCH!

BAMM!

After a rather loud screeching sound, Taylor found herself standing in a place where, only hours before, there had been a line of old and dilapidated lockers.

Taylor was breathing heavily, and she could see her breath escaping in small puffs of mist from her snout.

She was about to look around when she realized something felt wrong. Her body felt different. Then she realized that her body was no longer the same one she had left home wearing that morning. She had always been tall, but she had never been tall enough to see the dusty tops of the lockers that hadn't been destroyed by her escape.

Not that she cared. She was too angry to think about staying quiet or being stealthy.

Gingerly stepping around the twisted metal debris and biological waste covering the floor, she ignored the remains of her locker and whatever was left inside it.

She just wanted to get out.

Out of her locker.

Out of the school.

Out of everything.

Taylor looked down at her new several-meter-tall body, covered in lustrous white fur. Her chest was protected by a simple metal plate attached to her enlarged frame with leather straps.

The only thing that stood out were the dull yellow lines decorating the armor, which somehow, without any visible source of power, gave off a faint, gentle glow. Around her legs was a simple segmented skirt made of leather and reinforced with the same metal as her upper-body armor, also decorated with the strange yellow markings.

But all of that paled compared to her new senses.

She saw more, she heard more, and she smelled more…

And what she smelled made her growl loudly enough that she could feel objects vibrating around her. Somewhere in the corridor, a light bulb cracked.

She took another step forward.

Unfortunately, she stepped directly into a small pool of disgusting material that still contained a few worms and assorted insects crawling through it.

She let out another growl of anger, ignoring it as lightning began to crackle across her new giant body and made a decision.

She needed to leave before something broke.

So Taylor did the first thing that came to her angry mind.

She charged forward, roaring a challenge at the wall.

The wall, naturally, lost.

One moment, she was standing among the remains of her locker and attempted murder. The next, bricks, wood, and other debris were flying everywhere, and she stood outside the school, still a giant bear, in the middle of a raging snowstorm.

Once again ignoring the destruction left behind her, she stood in the middle of the aggressively falling snow and looked up at the gray sky.

Taylor felt free.

She flexed one of her arms, feeling the impressive muscles of her new form move beneath the fur, and couldn't help but grin. Feeling her new fangs with her tongue, the grin grew even wider.

'I wonder what Emma would do if I smiled at her…'

"He… he… he…" she laughed out loud, not even caring if anyone heard her.

Then she dropped onto all fours and began rushing away from the school, completely ignoring the sub-zero temperatures.

If anything, she reveled in them.

Behind her remained an empty school, marked by a glaring, somewhat bear-shaped hole in the wall leading into a hallway that looked like the epicenter of an explosion. Mixed among the destroyed lockers was hazardous biological waste that coated everything, dripping down the walls and ceiling. The few school supplies that had survived the ‘explosion’ were barely recognizable beneath the destruction.

While Taylor was beyond angry, she was still cognizant enough to understand that if people saw a giant bear tearing through the city, they would panic. So instead of running straight home, she decided to take the alleys and side streets that she had previously never dared to use on account of living in Brockton Bay.

Nobody who valued their lives, especially if they were women, went into those places.

There were too many stories about people taking shortcuts and never reappearing, or reappearing but changed.

But Taylor was fairly confident that a six-meter-tall, armored polar bear charging through those same alleyways at the speed of a small scooter would be more than enough to deter the same people she had once feared.

And if not…

She could use them as stress relief…

Taylor didn't know how powers worked, but ever since she returned to her locker, her power had been feeding information into her brain. As she ran through the cold and deserted hidden corners of the city she called home, she continued sorting through that information.

She knew what her transformation meant.

She understood what abilities it granted her.

She grasped how to use them most effectively in combat, yet she knew with crystal clarity that the knowledge she had been granted was not absolute.

Taylor would still have to train if she wanted to reach her peak.

She also knew that she had multiple ways to transform. Which was great because she didn't think giant polar bears were particularly public-relations-friendly.

Charging through the snow, throwing it into the air where it mixed with the flurries falling from the sky, she maneuvered through the streets until she reached a house near her own that she knew was abandoned.

With a swipe of her massive claws, she lifted the ancient garage door just high enough for her to squeeze her newly acquired body beneath it, then let it fall back into place, covering her.

She stood still, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

Reaching past her anger and bloodlust, which urged her to go out and take revenge, she pushed a metaphorical button inside her mind.

She instantly began to change and transform, her body morphing.

The six-meter-tall polar bear disappeared, replaced by a young woman with striking white hair styled into braids, with bear ears peeking out from beneath it. She was taller than her usual height, but not enough to appear unnatural. Her entire body looked as if it had been sculpted from stone, or rather ice, in her case. Unfortunately, she was still wearing the same clothes she had worn to school.

Meaning they were soaked in the foulest of foul concoctions a teenage mind could come up with.

Taylor spent a moment adjusting to her new height before using both hands to lift the same old garage door and sneaking out of the abandoned house.

Keeping to areas that she knew couldn't be seen from windows, she moved through the back gardens of the neighborhood until she reached the overgrown and neglected garden belonging to her family.

Easily hopping over the fence, she reached the back door of her house within moments.

Where she was met with the sudden realization that she had no idea where her house keys were. Shrugging, she decided she didn't particularly care.

Right now, all she wanted was clean clothes and a long, hot shower.

Taylor searched for the hidden key that had been left outside in case one of them lost theirs, unlocked the door, and stepped into their thankfully warm home.

Her first action was to remove all her clothes, not caring about anything else.

Then, almost on autopilot, she gathered all the contaminated clothing, including her soaked shoes, placed them into a trash bag from the kitchen, and, while heading upstairs, opened the basement door and, without looking where it would land, threw the entire bag down the stairs.

She slammed the door closed; her mind was entirely focused on the promise of warm, clean water.

Closing the bathroom door, clad in one of her fluffiest bathrobes (one of the few indulgences she allowed herself), Taylor entered her room and began searching for something to wear to bed. Her transformation had been undone long before, while she was still in the privacy of the bathroom, but some changes remained visible on her now thankfully clean body.

In the end, she found some underwear, along with shorts and a shirt that seemed to agree with her altered senses.

Thanks to her new abilities, she no longer truly feared the cold. Previously, because of the spotty and aging insulation of the Hebert home, whenever snowstorms hit the city, she would wear at least two layers beneath her fluffy blankets.

But now, when she looked out her window, she didn't think about how cold the night would be. She only thought about how beautiful the snow looked and how much she wished she could go outside and play in it.

And to crush a few skulls.

“Okay… still angry…” she muttered.

Taylor took a deep breath and decided that distracting herself would probably be a good idea.

Standing in front of her mirror, she couldn't help but grin slightly, even if the expression came out looking a little more bloodthirsty than she intended.

There was no sign of the small paunch that had appeared on her stomach over the last year. And while she was still freakishly tall, thanks to her new power, her body finally felt like it belonged to her. When she moved, she no longer saw an awkward teenager.

No.

She saw a warrior ready to strike down anything that dared stand against her.

After flexing in front of the mirror for a few moments, Taylor stopped as a massive yawn escaped her.

Deciding that testing her newly gained abilities could wait, Taylor quickly changed into her chosen clothes and collapsed face-first onto her bed.

She had just enough energy left to pull the blanket over herself. Seconds later, the only sound in the oppressive silence of the falling snow was her gentle breathing.

Though it did not last long.

Soon, her dreams were consumed by bloody battlefields, country-swallowing storms, and the destruction of everything she had ever known

Chapter 02

Armsmaster stopped his motorcycle, affectionately called the Armscycle by people on the internet, his coworkers – most by the Wards – and sometimes even by himself when he talked to Dragon about recent improvements he had made to it.

He parked next to one of the PRT vehicles used to transport investigative equipment. He let the vehicle's automatic stabilization system engage parking mode before immediately beginning to walk toward the group of PRT and police officials gathered in front of the school building.

The surprisingly deep snow crunched beneath his metal boots as he kept his head moving, allowing his built-in cameras to gather as much data as possible. He made sure to focus primarily on the giant, strangely shaped hole in the side of the building.

Reaching the group of people wrapped in warm clothing and huddled around a small folding desk covered with documents, Armsmaster glanced down. The papers contained the building plans, with the location of the hole clearly marked.

The software built into his helmet immediately went to work. After taking a snapshot of the plans, it recreated the building in three dimensions, marking his current location on the model. With a simple twitch of his eyes, it generated a route from the entrance doors to the location of the incident.

Returning his attention to the group, who had all looked up at him as he approached, he spoke. His helmet screen helpfully supplied their names and positions.

"Officer Manson, Sergeant Kalonsky. Report."

His request was followed by the named individuals, one from the Brockton Bay Police Department and one from the Parahuman Response Team, looking at each other and exchanging long glances.

"Armsmaster," Sergeant Kalonsky finally spoke. He turned fully toward him, and Colin noticed the man almost snapped into a salute. "We received the report this morning around six when the janitor returned to the school. He initially called the police, but they contacted us after discovering that the location had been contaminated by an unknown substance, as well as due to the unconventional shape of the hole in the school's wall."

"Any initial suspects?"

Another glance passed between them while Colin continued reading the detailed report scrolling across his helmet display, translated into his own shorthand by software he had written some time ago. He wanted to ensure the officers hadn't left anything out. It would be extremely inconvenient if they ended up spending more time investigating the incident than necessary simply because someone had forgotten a trivial detail.

"Probably one of the students. The direction of the event originated from inside the building, not from someone attempting to enter."

He nodded and continued. "Parahuman involvement?"

Sergeant Kalonsky shook his head hesitantly. "We're not sure. The biological matter we found was fortunately somewhat inert due to the cold caused by the storm, but initial examinations show that it contains several toxic materials. We currently have the corridor locked down until we can get one of the CDC cleanup teams here. The explosion scattered so much of the material that our equipment isn't sufficient for proper cleanup."

"Explosion?"

"According to our examinations, it was purely kinetic energy. No thermal or exotic energy signatures were detected. It appears to have originated from one of the lockers."

Armsmaster nodded. "Which one?"

"We are looking into that."

Colin glanced at the Sergeant, who simply shrugged. "The school doesn't have a digital system for tracking locker assignments. We have to check them manually."

He wanted to sigh at the sheer inefficiency that represented, but managed to keep himself under control. Finally, he turned toward the police officer who had patiently listened to the Sergeant's report. "Officer Manson, what was the reason your people contacted the PRT?"

Unspoken was the general distaste the local police department held toward the PRT. They rarely involved them in cases they could handle themselves, only doing so when their hands were forced, or parahuman involvement became impossible to ignore.

Colin was not particularly skilled at reading people, but his helmet display indicated, thanks to the software designed to assist him in social situations, that the man was reluctant to speak.

"We found footprints," came the answer.

Sergeant Kalonsky silently held out a regulation tablet emblazoned with the PRT's logo. On the screen was a picture of a bear footprint.

A very large bear footprint.

"I see," he stated as his mind rapidly worked through the information presented to him.

He knew of no bear-themed parahuman in the vicinity of Brockton Bay. The closest one was Ursa Aurora in the New York Protectorate, but he would have been informed if she were in the city. Furthermore, he had seen no human footprints in the unknown biological material scattered across the floor.

Only the bear's.

That meant it was either one of Leet's asinine creations, which raised the question of why the inferior Tinker would have any interest in Winslow, or, more likely, a newly triggered parahuman.

It was unfortunate that their first public act had been the destruction of public property, but Colin knew that most newly triggered individuals were not exactly in the right state of mind. He hoped this was simply them lashing out. After they found them, naturally, he would attempt to convince them to abandon their destructive behavior and join the Protectorate.

"I'll inspect the crime scene now. Contact me as soon as you identify the owners of the destroyed lockers."

"Yes, Sir!"

He didn't wait another moment before walking toward the school entrance with measured steps. As he moved, he quietly activated the scanning software and devices built into his armor and halberd.

Immediately, he was inundated by a flood of information about everything surrounding him.

As he walked through the halls and, according to his display, moved closer to the crime scene, he directed the scanners toward the debris and refuse scattered across the floor, walls, and practically every available surface. Within moments, he confirmed the initial findings of the police and PRT personnel.

Nodding to himself and then toward the police officer wearing a mask and standing guard beside a police line, he waited. The officer raised the line, and Armsmaster ducked underneath. A few seconds later, he reached the epicenter of the incident, giving him a clear view of the numerous police and PRT vehicles surrounding the school.

The scene itself made what had happened fairly obvious.

The epicenter was marked by a hole in the wall that had once supported the old, worn-down lockers. The lockers closest to the impact point appeared to have ceased to exist entirely, while those farther away were torn apart and mangled.

He marked them for later examination before turning his attention toward the personnel working over the scene. They were all wearing white full-body protective suits, stained by the substance that seemed to cling to everything, especially the twisted remains of the lockers.

They were currently combing through the remnants of the high school's storage system, searching for anything identifiable that might lead them closer to apprehending whoever was responsible.

Colin, realizing he would not be able to contribute anything meaningful to their search, shifted his focus to the wall opposite the line of lockers.

The path from the ruined lockers to the large, somewhat bear-shaped hole was obvious from the debris pattern scattered across the floor.

Walking over to the opening, he leaned closer to the edges and activated his scanners. Unfortunately, the hole appeared to be exactly what it looked like.

A hole.

A strange-shaped one, but still just a hole.

Looking outside toward the snow that had hardened into ice overnight, he noticed the remnants of footprints where the new parahuman's movement had compressed the snow. The snowfall afterward had been insufficient to completely erase them.

Taking several pictures and measurements, he turned and walked back toward the people working at the scene.

He was about to approach one of them, whose display identified him as the person in charge, when the man stood up unprompted. One of his colleagues followed him, carrying a tray.

"Armsmaster," the man called out. His colleague remained silent but held out the tray. On it rested some kind of unidentified mass that his scanner determined was composed primarily of low-quality polymers with a small amount of metal mixed in.

A quick glance at the pop-up display on his helmet supplied the man's name. "Officer Smith. Found anything?"

The man nodded and gestured toward the mass. "Yeah, you could say that…"

Colin stepped closer, performing a quick check to ensure his armored suit was fully sealed, and his gloves were ready to come into contact with a potential biohazard. It took only a second, so he could pay attention to the man as he continued to explain.

"It appears to be a backpack. Cheap, mass-produced. However, it was the only one we found."

Armsmaster nodded and glanced at the man. The officer nodded back before reaching into the ruined material with his protected hand and digging through the destroyed books and notebooksIt took only a few seconds before he found something approximately the size of a wallet. He retrieved it and examined it.

It was also cheaply made.

His scanner detected potentially harmful substances within the materials, and most of the papers inside were soaked with the same substance covering the rest of the area, mixed with water. He ignored the small amount of cash inside, and instead he focused on the lone plastic card.

Thankfully, while the edges showed signs of water damage, the rest remained legible. On it was the picture of a young woman with long dark hair, glasses, and a face that looked like it had not smiled in years.

Next to it was the young woman's name.

Taylor Hebert.

Danny sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly swirling a small spoon through his coffee, waiting for the generous amount of sugar to dissolve while he gathered his thoughts.

Last evening, when he came home surprisingly early because of the sudden snowstorm, he hadn't even considered the possibility of finding Taylor there. He was certain that, like any other teenager, she would take advantage of the unexpected half-day and come home late after spending time with her friends.

So, he puttered around the house, did some cleaning, and prepared a small meal using leftovers he found in the kitchen, despite not remembering making any of them. Afterward, with a warm cup of tea in hand, he sat in front of the television for a while, watching some random program.

It wasn't until he glanced at the clock around eight in the evening that he first started wondering where Taylor was. Half an hour later, becoming increasingly restless, he stood up from his chair and called out. "Taylor, honey, are you home?"

Silence was his only answer.

Now genuinely worried, Danny quickly walked upstairs toward Taylor's room. Standing in front of his daughter's door, he froze. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually gone inside.

For a long moment, he stood there, searching through his memories, trying to find a specific occasion when he had entered her room. When he couldn't come up with one, he frowned. Then he let out a tired sigh, reached for the doorknob, and slowly opened the door.

To his relief, Taylor was there.

Sleeping fitfully in her bed.

She was wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, the blanket pushed aside. Her face was twisted into a frown. Every few seconds, she let out a small growl or moan before falling silent and becoming eerily still. His first instinct was to wake her. But he knew if she had fallen asleep before he came home, then she probably needed the rest.

Who knew how she would react if he disturbed her?

Instead, he carefully reached for the blanket and pulled it over her body. Then he checked the window and noticed cold air leaking through one side of the frame. He made a mental note to have someone look at it, and then he quietly left.

After taking a shower, he returned to his own bed and lay down beneath his thickest blanket. The snowstorm might have been dying down, but the cold it had brought with it still clung to the city.

And now, in the morning, after waking at his usual time and preparing to head to work, he decided against leaving. Instead, he called in and quietly informed them he would be staying home, careful so that he wouldn’t wake Taylor.

After taking a shower, he made a quick trip to the nearest grocery store that he knew stocked newspapers and fresh produce. He returned home and prepared a small fruit salad and pancakes for his daughter. He didn't know what had caused her exhaustion. (He had checked that morning, and she didn't have a fever, but he wanted to make sure she was alright. And, if he was being honest with himself, it felt nice staying home.

It felt nice seeing the pristine white landscape outside their street.

Around seven, he heard movement coming from Taylor's room as his daughter walked heavily toward the bathroom. A few minutes later, he heard the shower turn on.

Humming quietly to himself, he stood and began making tea using the tea bags he found in the cabinet.  He didn't recognize the brand, but he had always been more of a coffee person.

Danny heard the shower turn off after an unusually long time, but he couldn't blame her after such a long and cold night.

The moment he heard the bathroom door open, the doorbell rang.

Sighing and mentally preparing himself to deal with an overeager salesperson, he leisurely walked toward the front door and opened it.

What he saw on the other side was surprising enough that the first thing that came to mind escaped his mouth.

"We are not buying anything…"

Standing on the old steps of his house, wearing his recognizable armor, was Armsmaster.

And the famous Protectorate hero was currently frowning at him.

Taylor woke up feeling better, but she was still angry.

She couldn't remember her dreams, though she had a feeling they hadn't been particularly peaceful. Despite the amount of sleep she had gotten, Taylor still felt somewhat tired.

And angry.

Ignoring the sunlight shining through her window and reflecting off the stark white snow covering everything visible outside, she scratched her stomach. For a few seconds, she marveled at the fact that the small paunch she had developed over the last year was gone. Then, slowly, she picked up her fluffy bathrobe and towel before padding toward the bathroom, ready for a hot shower. She felt sticky despite having slept without her usual layers.

Taylor spent a long time under the shower, allowing the hot water to wash over her entire body. She still shivered slightly whenever the memories of the disgusting creepy crawlies returned. Every time they surfaced, she squeezed more shower gel into her hand and scrubbed herself until her body was covered in soapy bubbles. Thankfully, thanks to her new constitution, her skin never turned red or irritated. Instead, it remained glossy and elastic, with a firmness that felt unfamiliar.

She spent a not insignificant amount of time poking herself in places where she clearly remembered having old scars. Nothing impressive, just a few small marks from childhood, back when she and Emma had spent the golden days of summer running around wherever they could.

She also spent time with her eyes closed beneath the showerhead, trying to examine her new power more closely. Yesterday, when she returned home, she had acted almost entirely on instinct. She could still feel that anger simmering beneath her skin.

Some of it came from her.

Some of it seemed to originate from her power, something ephemeral yet undeniably present somewhere inside her body.

It pulsated along with his heartbeat, but always slightly faster.

And whenever she allowed herself to embrace the anger, whenever she let the memories of taunts and laughter wash over her, the sensation intensified.

The pulsing became faster.

Taylor knew without a doubt that if she reached out and grasped the power beneath her skin, she would transform. Though now, with a clearer mind and more time to examine the gift she had received (not that she was completely convinced the meeting atop that plateau had been real), she noticed a few more things.

She was definitely healthier; her earlier examination had proven that. But she also felt strongerShe didn't want to test that particular aspect, though, because her family really couldn't afford to repair holes punched through bathroom tiles. Surprisingly, her power was helpful enough to provide an estimate of her abilities. It showed what she could accomplish if she punched outward right now.

Which was apparently punching through the old, faded tiles of the shower.

Taylor shook her head at the thoughts that immediately followed that revelation, including one involving punching through Emma's and Sophia's faces. She quickly redirected her attention toward another aspect of her power.

It came as cold, hard knowledge.

It slotted into her mind, providing one simple truth.

Her mind and body were inviolable.

It was hers to command and would not bend under another person's control. Taylor interpreted that as immunity to mind control effects.

‘Hopefully.’

At least she wouldn't have to worry about Masters.

Finally, she raised one hand and scrunched up her face slightly, searching for another part of her power. The part that made her feel restless and made her feel as if she could leap out of the shower and immediately run several marathons back-to-back.

As a result of her focus, a small spark jumped between her thumb and index finger.

Then another.

And another.

Soon, the sparks began falling like drops of water, landing in the puddle collecting on the tiled floor and spreading through it.

Taylor giggled quietly to herself as she watched the pretty light show. She ignored the fact that she should probably be screaming from being electrocuted. Although impressive, she knew that her control over lightning was, at most, a party trickIf she wanted to unleash actual lightning strikes on someone, she would need to transform into the form that had allowed her to escape the locker.

Having enough of the self-examination and introspection, she stopped the flow of electricity. She waited until the final spark disappeared, shut off the shower, and stepped out to begin her morning routine.

Once she finished, she wrapped herself in her favorite (and only) fluffy bathrobe, tied the cloth belt around her waist, tossed the towel into the hamper, ignored the mirror with practiced ease, and headed toward the door.

The moment she opened the bathroom door, she heard the doorbell.

For a moment, she wondered when the last time was that she had heard that particular sound.

Then she shrugged.

She could hear her father opening the front door. More importantly, she was hungry and angry.

Hangry.

Nodding to herself after naming the emotion she was currently experiencing, she started down the stairs.

She idly wondered how the school would react to her escape, but ultimately she didn't care. They had spent a year treating her like garbage; now it was her turn to make them regret it.

Following the smell of food, she could already sense the freshly made pancakes waiting in the kitchen. Taylor smiled slightly, wondering what had prompted her father to cook when he usually settled for cold sandwiches before leaving for work, hours before she woke up.

Walking past the living room, she spotted the breakfast waiting for her. Her mouth immediately began watering, and suddenly, she realized just how hungry she actually was. She was about to descend upon her meal when a voice interrupted her.

"Taylor, honey, the PRT is here to talk to you!"

She didn't even think about her reply.

"Tell them to come back after breakfast!" she said, waving vaguely in the direction of the voice, recognizing it as her father's, though with a rather strange inflection, while already reaching for one of the utensils.

"I'm afraid we can't wait that long, Miss Herbert," another voice answered, surprisingly also coming from the direction of the living room.

It wasn't her father's voice, though it felt vaguely familiar.

"Hebert. Don't care. I have pancakes!"

On most days, Taylor wouldn't have been this glib, but with the power simmering under her skin and the anger suffusing her entire being, she was only held back from physically throwing the mysterious voice out of their home by her desire not to accidentally wreck the house. Although, clearly, some of that restraint had slipped through, and Taylor didn't have the willpower to stop the biting sarcasm that came so naturally in the moment.

She was about to take her first glorious bite when she heard heavy footsteps behind her and felt a hand grab her shoulder.

"Miss Hebert, this is not the time for this attitude. We are here for a serious issue–"

The anger sparkling beneath her skin broke free.

With an instinct that felt completely alien yet somehow natural at the same time, Taylor grabbed the offending appendage, immediately noting its metallic quality, twisted it, and then used the momentum of the movement to spin around and throw the person who had grabbed her away.

The moment she laid her eyes on the person she had just attacked, she froze.

Apparently, she had just assaulted Armsmaster, who was now standing several steps away and staring down at his own hand.

Then the anger returned.

How dare he touch her? What had she done to deserve that?

As she felt the anger break through the weak control she had over it, Taylor felt the power inside her begin to pulse faster. Her body immediately responded, becoming stronger, faster, and altogether better, as if every part of her was preparing for a fight.

"Taylor!"

She ignored her father's anxious and worried cry, only sparing him a brief glance. He was sitting in one of the armchairs across from a man in a suit, while the stranger held up one hand, silently keeping him from standing.

Her attention remained focused on Armsmaster.

Her new instincts told her that she could take the Protectorate hero in front of her, but her more rational thoughts, which were quickly being buried beneath the rising fury, reminded her that this man was the leader of the local Protectorate.

He wasn't someone who should be underestimated.

"What do you want?" she bit out, trying to push down the anger that threatened to erupt.

She had waited so long for the heroes to arrive. She had waited for someone to notice, someone to help, someone to finally step in and make everything stop. And now one of those heroes was standing in front of her, treating her like the criminal.

The Protectorate hero straightened himself, though Taylor noticed that one of his hands never strayed far from his famous weapon, which was currently attached to his back in its collapsed state and ready to be used at a moment's notice.

"Miss Hebert, we are here regarding the incident at Winslow High School," he explained.

Taylor stared at him, completely unsure what he was talking about.

"Yeah, did you arrest those bitches?"

"No, Miss Hebert. We are here to ask you questions about your destruction of school property as well as damage to public property. I'm not sure you are aware, but such crimes carry rather severe penalties..."

Taylor allowed his words to wash over her as he continued explaining the possible consequences, because once again it seemed like the girls who had decided to make her life a living hell were somehow avoiding punishment while the consequences were falling onto her shoulders instead.

Naturally, that only made her angrier.

No, she wasn't angry anymore.

She was furious.

And seemingly, her power responded to that fury with reckless abandon, the pressure beneath her skin growing stronger as only her paper-thin control kept it from breaking free completely.

"...thus, I recommend that you come with us quietly. It will only help your case, Miss Hebert," Armsmaster finished.

Taylor had to stop herself from openly gaping at him.

She looked over at her father, who was watching Armsmaster with a bewildered expression while the unnamed man in the suit continued holding up a hand to keep him seated.

"So, you are saying," she began slowly, taking a small step forward, "that I should go with you and plead guilty for a crime I didn't commit just because you tell me to?" She looked directly at him, hoping that the sheer disgust she managed to put into her voice was enough to convey her opinion. "Do I understand that correctly, Mr. Hero?"

Armsmaster's frown deepened.

"Miss Hebert, we have clear evidence of your presence at the location of the crime as well as your–”

"And didn't you wonder why I was there?" Taylor interrupted, her voice rising. "Why I was at school alone? In the middle of an epic snowstorm?" Her anger surged. "LOCKED INTO THE LOCKERS?!"

The final words came out as a roar, loud enough that Armsmaster instinctively took a step backward, his hand moving slightly closer to the weapon on his back.

"Miss Hebert, we have no evidence that suggests any of that occurred," came the clipped response.

A sneer appeared on Taylor's face.

"Of course there isn't!" Her voice became louder."Why would there be? Why wouldn't those bitches get away with it like they always do?" The words poured out before she could stop them. "Why wouldn't Emma and Sophia walk away from this without consequences?"

She took another step forward, too consumed by the absurdity of the situation to pay attention to the way Armsmaster tensed.

"Miss Hebert, you need to calm down!" Armsmaster ordered.

Taylor only glared at him. "And you need to get the fuck out of my house!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss Hebert. You have committed a crime, and while you claim you are innocent, the evidence currently available to us strongly suggests otherwise. Please come with me, and we can discuss this at Protectorate Headquarters."

Taylor had only one answer to that. She bared her 'fangs' and straightened her back, deliberately showing off her height and presence, though she noted with some disappointment that Armsmaster was still taller than her.

"Go fuck yourself, you sanctimonious asshole!” she told him coldly. “I'm not going anywhere!"

In response to that statement, several things happened almost simultaneously.

Armsmaster raised one hand, his palm facing her and aimed directly toward the center of her body, while her father attempted to stand up, yelling her name in concern. The unnamed man in the suit reached out and grabbed him, preventing him from moving forward.

Inside herself, Taylor felt the power shift.

She felt it begin to leak outside of her body, but she ignored it. Instead, she opened her mouth to continue tearing into Armsmaster.

Ordinarily, she would have never done something like this, but the entire situation at the school, followed by this confrontation and her power constantly radiating anger through her body, had pushed her far beyond the point where she could maintain her usual restraint.

"Miss Hebert, please calm down, and stop using your power, or I will be forced to subdue you!" Armsmaster called out, causing Taylor to frown.

She frowned because she was fairly certain she wasn't actively using her power. Then she directed her enhanced senses inward and was horrified to discover that the first level of her ability had automatically activated, causing her to partially transform. As a result, two fluffy bear ears had emerged from the top of her head.

Taylor absentmindedly twitched them, ignoring how her father was staring at her with a completely dumbfounded expression, then bared her fangs, which were now actually real and accompanied by proper, long incisors.

The Protectorate hero immediately tensed.

"No. You came into my home and accused me of crimes that I did not commit. I am not going anywhere with you. Instead, how about you take your shiny armor and get the fuck out of here?"

Armsmaster remained silent for a brief moment before speaking again, and Taylor could hear the reproach in his voice.

Too bad, she was beyond angry.

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to walk forward and punch the hero directly in the face. Thankfully, she still had enough control over herself not to do that. Though depending on what came out of his mouth next, that might change.

"I'm sorry, Miss Hebert. If you do not comply with my request, then I will have to subdue you," he declared with a confidence that immediately irritated her.

Taylor had a moment to consider what exactly those words meant, momentarily forgetting her anger. "Wha–"

Then two prongs connected by a thin filament shot out from Armsmaster's hand and embedded themselves directly into her fluffy bathrobe. She felt the prongs of the obvious taser hit the fabric, penetrate through it, and stop against her skin.

Or rather, they attempted to.

Her enhanced body prevented the small metal points from properly digging into her flesh. For the next few seconds, she felt electricity flowing through the metal, but the only thing it accomplished was leaving a scorched mark on her favorite bathrobe.

She looked down at the prongs still attached to her clothing.

Armsmaster looked down at them as well, silently frowning.

Her father watched the entire scene unfold with the same expression someone would have while watching a car crash from a safe distance. Fascination mixed with horror. Meanwhile, the still unnamed man in the suit simply stared at her in shock.

Taylor slowly lifted her gaze from the still sparking metal prongs and looked directly into Armsmaster's eyes. Then she reached out with one hand and grabbed both lines.

The hero had only a moment to react.

Unfortunately for him, it wasn't enough.

Taylor pulled on the filament, dragging Armsmaster toward her, took a large step forward, and punched with her other hand, which was charged with lightning.

There was a loud crash as her fist collided with the man's armor, then the lightning in her fist discharged. It surged through the armor and began coursing through his body.

Taylor could sense that he was properly insulated, but her lightning was different. She hesitated to call it magic, but deep down she knew that normal insulation was not enough to completely stop something that came from the power she had been granted.

With her enhanced strength, she tore the filament apart, then shoved the spasming hero backward. Armsmaster crashed onto the old wooden floor, and Taylor winced slightly when she heard several boards crack beneath his weight.

Then the suited man suddenly jumped up, pulled out a gun, and began shouting.

"Stop! Get on the ground! Stop!"

Her father wisely decided to take several steps back, though Taylor noticed he was inching toward the baseball bat she knew he kept hidden nearby in case someone attempted to break into their home.

Taylor glanced at the man with the gun and snorted.

According to her power, he represented such a minimal threat that the ocean of anger currently filling her mind briefly retreated, replaced by a small wave of amusement. Instead, she focused her attention back on Armsmaster.

Because she wasn't fully transformed, the lightning wasn't anywhere near as powerful as it could have been. However, thanks to the anger flowing through her body, it had still been enough to make Armsmaster's muscles spasm for several seconds.

Her ears twitched, and Taylor focused a little bit.

Thanks to her enhanced hearing, she could make out the tiny voices coming from the devices attached to Armsmaster's helmet, shouting instructions and questions.

She was about to open her mouth and finally unload all of her anger onto the man, relishing the opportunity to make someone listen to her for once, when suddenly the front door was kicked open.

And standing in the doorway was Miss Militia. Covered in American flags and carrying herself with absolute confidence, she stood ready for action. Her hand held a green and black gun, aimed directly at Taylor’s center of body.

A/N: Basically this is Taylor with a power inspired by the Volibear skillset. Electrokineses, knowledge how to fight, and rage. Some transformation from human to a giant bear monster. As the transformation progresses so does more and more her power unlock. For example Stormbringer, Volibear's ulti in the game, would need her to be fully transformed in the throes of battle. Taylor would be a half-outed cape, with a "bit" of anger problem. And she would be eager to make that anger everyone else's problem. Never went farther than this, but I have some notes, so maybe some time I will write the rest... Hope you liked it.