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(AV) A PREDATOR’S INSTINCTS
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 10:12:53 +0000 UTCSomething was off.
Sophia Hess leaned back in her chair, arms lazily folded behind her head, and eyes fixed not on the whiteboard or the teacher droning on about whatever, but on the empty desk two rows to her left. Hebert’s desk, which for the third or so week running was still vacant.
Most of the students hadn’t noticed, and those who had didn’t seem to care; even Veder, who had looked a little confused the first few days, had stopped glancing over. Mr. Gladly no longer paused during attendance: he simply skipped her name and moved on. That was how invisible Hebert was.
Pathetic.
And yet Sophia noticed.
She always noticed, not because she cared—Hebert could’ve stepped into traffic and she wouldn’t lose a second of sleep—but because constant vigilance was something life had beaten into her from a young age. You had to watch and notice everything because you never knew when someone might do something stupid or interesting.
If Hebert had offed herself, no one would’ve been surprised. Not the teachers, not the students, and probably not even the old man she called a father. She was the wallflower type, quiet and awkward and always on the outside. A ghost in the halls, someone who existed just so the world had something to ignore, and her being gone would’ve just meant one less waste of oxygen.
But…
Sophia didn’t feel the closure that usually came with finality here. There were no whispers in the halls of an unfortunate passing, no rumors, and no teachers stumbling over words in homeroom or the counselor making a mandatory visit. Hebert had just stopped coming.
That itch crawled along the back of her neck again. It wasn't out of guilt—Sophia didn’t feel guilt—but instinct. A predator’s instinct. Something was off.
She'd brought it up to Emma a few days ago. They were sitting on the bleachers after track, Sophia still flushed from running laps, hair damp and pulled into a messy updo, and legs stretched long under the late afternoon sun. She had mentioned it offhand. “Weird that Hebert hasn’t shown her pasty face in weeks.”
Emma had rolled her eyes and snorted something about rats finally finding the sewer, but then Sophia brought up the bug cape. That got her attention. Everyone had heard about it by now: a new rogue parahuman who’d apparently murdered Lung, and not in a clean, quick way either. Death by a thousand stings, a thousand bites, and—based on the leaked autopsy—insects filling every crevice until his regeneration couldn’t keep up.
The city was spooked, and even the gangs were laying low. That kind of death had a way of lingering in people’s minds.
But funnily enough, the only people more nervous than the thugs were the PRT.
Sophia had gotten the real story in the Wards’ debriefing room. Armsmaster had stood at the front, expression unreadable beneath his helmet, and hands clasped behind his back. He’d started the meeting with an admission: they’d labeled the bug parahuman a villain intentionally as a ploy to draw her out. They’d expected a rookie, one reckless, and eager for a spotlight.
They were wrong.
There was no interview, no territory claimed, or any public reaction to the label. The bug parahuman had remained silent, even though they had been spotted patrolling the city most nights.
The higher-ups weren’t saying it outright, but they wanted the bug parahuman. They wanted someone—anyone affiliated with them—to find and recruit them because the new cape had potential, clearly had power, and they had enough self control to remain lowkey until they struck.
Sophia had practically vibrated in her seat when she heard it. Because finally, finally, there might be someone else worth shit in this dump of a city. Someone who didn’t whine about doing what needed to be done, or clung to dumb rules about killing like a security blanket. She was so damn sick of Gallant and his faux-noble speeches, Clockblocker and his idiotic jokes, and Vista and her strict adherence to instructions. This bug cape could be something better, so Sophia wanted her.
And now, with Hebert missing…
Sophia narrowed her eyes at the empty seat. It was a long shot and too convenient, but then again… she remembered that one time, months ago, catching Hebert with a bug sitting placidly on her shoulder like it belonged there. She remembered thinking it was disgusting, that it meant Hebert had probably not showered in days, but now… in hindsight, it felt like a puzzle piece that had been missing until now.
There had been other things too. That sudden shift in posture after her stay in the hospital, the slow hardening in the girl’s expression—the beginnings of determination—before she disappeared, like she was preparing for something.
Sophia had noticed that change, but had dismissed it then as the weak pretending to be strong. But if Hebert had indeed triggered, then everything would make sense.
Maybe, just maybe, she’d become something interesting.
Sophia’s heart kicked up in her chest, odd excitement mixing with suspicion, and a slow grin spread across her face. She leaned forward, elbows on her desk, and eyes locked on the empty chair as if it might give her answers.
If Hebert was the bug cape, then things might get really interesting really soon.
She whispered under her breath, a promise more than a threat:
“Run all you want, Hebert. If it’s really you… I’m going to find out.”
And when she did?
She’d see if the mouse really had become a monster, or if it was just another pathetic thing waiting to be crushed beneath her heel.
Comments
Dragonin
I can see that eventual meeting going one of two ways. Both may reduce effective PRT capes by one
OnAHiatus
Not really a fan of this chapter even though I like the subtle hints about Sophia’s home life and tendencies I threw into the chapter
