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CHAPTER ONE - TAYLOR
🕑 Added 2024-12-05 07:05:15 +0000 UTCThe endbringers were more than the monsters most thought they were; natural disasters were a more apt term, and surviving one took far more luck than most had.
Taylor didn't consider herself lucky. Her mum was dead; she was relentlessly bullied by her former friend; her relationship with her dad was strained; and even the culmination of her trauma and pain, her powers, were useless in the face of the danger Leviathan posed.
So she didn't try to fight him head-on—or even at all, instead focusing her attention on search and rescue. Her powers could at least point her to those who needed her help, and if she could save as many people as she could, maybe that would ease the gnawing guilt that threatened to engulf her.
Her plan had not gone accordingly, and for the first time in months, she felt so lonely. But maybe this was how it felt to be a hero. Maybe she simply deluded herself, hoping it would make her decision feel right—hoping that she had not made the wrong choice.
She sighed, running her gloved hand through her wet hair, the rain a constant annoyance ever since the endbringer’s appearance. There was no time to dwell on her thoughts; any misstep could easily be her last, and hero or not, she had a job to do.
. . . . .
Brockton Bay stood a shell of its former self, its once-towering skyline reduced to a jagged silhouette against the stormy sky. The buildings buckled under the pressure of the surging water, their foundations weakened by Leviathan’s brutal assault. Some had collapsed entirely, their frames twisted and broken, leaving gaping holes where windows once gleamed. Others, half-submerged, were barely recognizable.
Taylor took it all in with a stoicness she didn't really feel, moving through the ruined city with purpose, her every step trailed by a thick, seething cloud of insects. The distant roar of the waves and the monster’s guttural bellows rattled the air—the sounds of surviving parahumans giving it a haunting echo—but she pressed on.
The insects—bees, ants, spiders, flies, and many other simple-minded creatures—scoured the wreckage, their tiny forms navigating cracks and crevices that no human could reach with unerring precision, to scout, or to carry out small, but important tasks. Taylor’s mind buzzed with their feedback—vibrations, heat, and motion relayed to her in an endless stream of data. Every survivor her insects uncovered spurred her into action, even as the relentless tide of water and debris made her efforts feel impossibly small.
She did her best to warn civilians or guide them to shelter. Her ants dug through collapsed buildings, freeing those trapped beneath rubble, while wasps and flies scouted ahead to locate others in need. Spiders wove webs across gaps in the wreckage, creating makeshift lifelines for people to climb to safety. Her swarm were her hands, her eyes, her voice in places where her human form couldn’t go. Even as the city drowned, her insects moved with an almost mechanical efficiency, responding to her silent command like extensions of her body.
But it was hard to ignore Leviathan’s presence—a looming, gargantuan figure in the distance, his every movement sending tidal waves crashing through the city. Taylor’s swarm scattered when the monster lashed his massive tail, the resulting shockwave ripping apart what little was left standing. She had to reassert control over her insects again and again, each effort taking a toll on her already strained mind.
The destruction was unrelenting. Streets flooded faster than she could adapt, and every rescue felt like a drop in an ocean of despair. Cars floated aimlessly in the rising water, smashed into buildings or each other by the force of the waves. Power lines sparked and hissed, and fires burned in defiance of the encroaching floods. The air reeked of salt, smoke, and the metallic tang of blood and death. Countless death.
Despite the futility of it all—after all, for every life she saved, she felt the crushing weight of ten more she couldn’t reach—Taylor didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She remained determined to do whatever she could to protect her home and its people.
. . . . .
Taylor’s bugs infiltrated pockets of the ruined city, their tiny bodies gathering any information on the scale of the destruction. A faint vibration in the back of her mind drew her attention to a collapsed building. Her swarm converged on the source, the mass of insects picking through the wreckage until they revealed a figure—a man, trapped beneath a mountain of rubble.
She approached cautiously, the rising water sloshing around her boots, her swarm pulling back slightly to give her a clear view. He was conscious, his chest heaving with shallow, labored breaths. Dust and blood smeared his face, and his legs were pinned under slabs of concrete and twisted metal. Taylor’s stomach tightened. She knew immediately that it was hopeless. The weight bearing down on him was insurmountable, far beyond anything she could move with her swarm or her own strength.
Her first instinct was to leave. Every second spent here was another second wasted, another chance lost to save someone she could help. It was the cold, ruthless logic she had adopted since the attack began—the only way to survive, the only way to make her efforts mean something. She turned to leave, the decision already made.
But she stopped.
Something in her wouldn’t let her take another step. The man’s eyes, half-lidded and filled with pain, found hers. There was no accusation in his gaze, no plea for help—only a quiet acceptance of his fate. That look froze her in place. The cold calculation that had guided her so far wavered, and for the first time, her resolve cracked.
She clenched her fists, her swarm buzzing anxiously around her. It was impossible. She knew it was impossible. The rubble couldn’t be moved, not with her power, not with the resources she had. Logic screamed at her to leave, to let him go and focus on the ones she could save.
But she didn’t move. She couldn’t.
Taking a shaky breath, Taylor forced herself to step closer. She crouched beside the man, the swarm shifting restlessly around her.
“I’ll try,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the distant roar of the waves. She wasn’t even sure if he heard her, but she needed to say it. She needed to try.
Directing her swarm with newfound determination, she sent them scuttling and crawling into every crack, every crevice, every gap they could find. Ants swarmed the edges of the concrete, spiders spun their silken threads in futile attempts to create leverage, and her flies darted around, searching for weak points in the debris. Taylor gritted her teeth and pressed her hands against the nearest slab, pushing with all her strength even as she knew it wouldn’t budge.
Minutes passed. The water continued to rise, lapping at her knees now, and exhaustion clawed at her mind and body. Her swarm worked tirelessly, but the rubble barely shifted. Still, she didn’t stop. For once, her ruthlessness had deserted her. And in its place, stubborn, desperate hope burned brighter than the hopelessness that surrounded her.
However, reality was damning.
No matter how hard she tried, no matter how fiercely her swarm worked to find leverage, the rubble wouldn’t move. Taylor’s arms trembled from the effort, the thick fabric of her gloves slick with grime and seawater, had done little to dampen the raw ache in her arms and shoulders from her efforts. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, the water soaking her legs as if it, too, sought to drown her efforts.
Futile.
Her swarm buzzed uselessly around her, their numbers dwindling as some were crushed or swept away by the encroaching tide. Her vision blurred—not from tears, but from exhaustion and frustration. She wanted to scream, to cry out in defiance, but what would it change? The truth was undeniable: she couldn’t do it.
The man beneath the rubble groaned softly, his voice weak and faint. Taylor froze, her hands still pressed against the unyielding rubble, and she stared at it, her mind running in frantic circles, searching for any solution, any angle she hadn’t considered.
There was nothing.
The weight of the reality she’d been trying to change came crashing down on her, heavier than the rubble itself. She couldn’t save him. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to, it was impossible.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling beneath the sound of the battle, now a few blocks away. Her swarm hovered, almost uncertain, her control faltering as doubt and guilt crept in.
The man’s eyes fluttered open, dull and unfocused. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear his words. Still, the expression on his face said enough: he understood. He didn’t blame her.
But that made it worse.
Taylor clenched her fists, the fabric of her gloves creaking under the strain.
Was this how heroes felt when they failed?
This crushing guilt? This overwhelming sense of helplessness?
Taylor’s knees hit the waterlogged ground, her strength finally giving out. The tide lapped around her legs, cold and uncaring, but it was nothing compared to the hollowness settling in her chest. She stared at the rubble, at the man whose life was slipping away before her eyes, and felt the weight of her failure settle deep within her heart.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Heroes were supposed to save people. They were supposed to overcome impossible odds, to turn hopeless situations around. But here she was, powerless, forced to make the choice between abandoning someone to their fate or staying and failing both him and countless others she could still help.
The bitter feelings gnawed at her, sharp and unrelenting. What kind of hero was she, leaving someone behind like this? And yet, what kind of hero wasted precious time on a battle she couldn’t win, knowing there were others who might survive if she just let go?
She wanted to believe she was different—that she wasn’t like the others who might have walked away without a second thought. But she wasn’t sure anymore. The world felt so big, so merciless, and she was so small.
The man’s labored breathing grew fainter, a sound that sliced through her like a blade. This was the burden, wasn’t it? The cost of trying to save people. No one ever talked about the ones you couldn’t save.
Her chest ached with every shallow breath she took, but she forced herself to stand, water cascading from her soaked clothes. The city needed her, and she hated that the truth of it demanded she leave him here. But before she turned away, she crouched beside him, her voice quiet but steady.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words barely audible over the crashing waves. “I’m so sorry.”
But as she rose to leave, a voice stopped her, powerful yet tinged with the unmistakable undertone of warmth.
“Need a hand?”
Taylor froze, her head snapping toward the source. He stood there amidst the swirling water and ruin, his red cape billowing in the harsh wind, somehow untouched by the devastation around him. The golden “S” on his chest gleamed even in the dim, smoke-filled light. Another hero, one she didn't recognize at first glance.
For a moment, all she could do was stare. He didn’t belong here, in this nightmare of destruction and despair, yet his presence seemed to push back the weight of the chaos, as if the world itself couldn’t bear to crumble in his shadow.
“You—” she stammered, her voice catching. She glanced back at the man trapped beneath the rubble, and for the first time since she found him, a flicker of hope ignited in her chest. “He’s pinned. I… I tried, but—”
The hero raised a hand, cutting her off gently but firmly. “You’ve done enough,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’ll take it from here.”
Without another word, he stepped forward, water parting slightly around his boots. Taylor moved aside, her swarm pulling back instinctively as if they, too, understood they were no longer needed. The hero crouched beside the trapped man, assessing the situation with a practiced eye.
“Hang in there,” he said softly to the man, his tone kind and unyielding, as though failure wasn’t even an option. Then, with effortless strength, he gripped the edge of the largest concrete slab.
Taylor watched in awe as the impossible unfolded before her eyes. Muscles coiled like steel cables as the hero lifted the massive debris, the weight that had defeated her now seeming as light as paper in his hands. The metal groaned and the rubble shifted, freeing the man without causing further harm.
Once the man was clear, the hero gently cradled him in his arms, his movements careful and deliberate. He glanced at Taylor, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “You did well finding him. You saved his life.”
Her throat tightened. She wanted to protest, to tell him how close she’d come to walking away, how she didn’t deserve any credit. But the way he looked at her—calm, encouraging, unwavering—made the words catch in her throat.
The hero rose, the man secured in his arms and gaze lifting toward the stormy sky, but before he could leave, Taylor stepped forward.
“Wait,” she called, her words hesitant but firm enough to reach him.
He paused, turning to look at her. The warmth in his eyes, unshaken by the destruction, made it easier for her to speak.
“What’s your name?” she asked, the question spilling out before she could second-guess herself.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. “I’m Superman,” he said simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
Superman.
The name hit her with a wave of disbelief, awe, and something she couldn’t quite name. She’d never heard of him before—not in the news, not among the endless lists of capes that filled Brockton Bay’s records. He wasn’t a native, that much was obvious. Probably one of the many heroes who had answered the call for help. But the name, as childish and basic as it seemed, oddly enough fit him.
It felt like a name from another time, another place—simple, earnest, and unpretentious. Yet, as she looked at him, standing amidst the devastation with that steady calmness, his red cape billowing behind him, she couldn’t deny it. The name made him seem larger than life, on par with legends like Alexandria, Eidolon, and Legend themselves.
And yet, there was something different about him. He didn’t carry himself with the polished grandeur of the Triumvirate, nor did he exude the same overwhelming intensity she’d seen in other powerful capes. His presence was… human. Warm and reassuring, despite the impossible feats he’d just performed.
Taylor studied him for a moment longer, her thoughts racing. She wanted to ask who he really was, where he’d come from, but the words caught in her throat. It didn’t matter, she realized. What mattered was that he was here, helping when they needed it most.
“Superman,” she echoed, almost to herself. She swallowed, unsure of what to say, but the gratitude and awe in her voice were unmistakable. “Thank you. For… for saving him.”
He nodded, his smile never wavering. “You did the hard part. You didn’t give up on him.” His words carried a weight that struck deeper than she expected, the quiet assurance in his tone making her chest tighten.
Before she could say anything else, Superman shifted his grip on the injured man and glanced toward the horizon. “There are more people who need help,” he said, his voice resolute but still carrying that warmth. “You keep doing what you can, miss. It matters.”
Her eyes widened slightly at the sound of her name, but before she could ask how he knew, he was gone, taking to the sky in a blur of red and blue. The wind from his departure rippled the surface of the water around her, and then he was just a speck against the storm clouds.
Taylor stood there for a moment, her swarm buzzing quietly around her, the weight of her earlier despair slowly giving way to something else. Determination. The crushing guilt was still there, but now it felt lighter, tempered by the knowledge that, even in the darkest moments, there were people—heroes—who could carry the impossible weight when she couldn’t.
Superman had done something more than saving the man—he’d reminded her why she was still fighting, even when the odds seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing as she turned back toward the chaos of Brockton Bay.
There were still people who needed her.
