(LIMITLESS) INTERLUDE II: ARMSMASTER’S FAILURE

Armsmaster had always trusted in his capabilities.

His armor was calibrated down to the micron. His halberd had multiple distinct configurations, each accessible in under a second. His HUD parsed battlefield data faster than most teams of analysts. And when it came to administration—especially his responsibilities overseeing the Brockton Bay Protectorate team—he prided himself on the same level of rigor.

Which made the knot in his gut all the more troubling.

It had started as a passing curiosity and doubt, one he thought could be explained away by stress, jealousy, or teenage volatility. When Shadow Stalker—Sophia Hess—had first offered her perspective on Taylor Hebert, it had been laced with undisguised vitriol. Unprofessional, even for someone on probationary status.

“I’m saying she’s a time bomb,” Hess had said. “You really wanna wait until she accidentally tears a bus in half?”

At the time, Armsmaster had filed the warning away and moved on. Hess had a reputation for bluntness and for being particularly intolerant of those she saw as ‘below her.’ Hebert’s independent streak had rankled her, no doubt. 

But something about the phrasing had lingered. Something about the urgency in Hess’ tone.

So, against his usual instincts—and more importantly, against standard protocol—he’d looked into it quietly and alone. He accessed Winslow High’s student records, cross-referenced disciplinary reports, and requested sealed files through back channels. He confirmed that Winslow had no functioning surveillance cameras; a known but inconvenient reality. Still, he ran facial recognition across what archival footage the school had retained. Most of it was corrupted or missing entirely. The rest was angled poorly or showed too little to be useful. 

Even so, a pattern emerged.

Taylor Hebert had been nearly invisible. 

Her attendance was consistent, and her academic performance showed early promise, then a marked decline. But what stood out was her participation, or lack thereof. No clubs, and no known friends. 

The deeper he read, the more unsettled he became.

Then came an unexpected opportunity.

He’d scheduled one-on-one assessments with several potential witnesses under the guise of a civic engagement program. Most had little to say, but one—Madison Clements—lingered after her allotted time.

She fidgeted, bit her lips, and looked down. “Is it true? That Taylor’s a Ward now?”

“Yes,” Armsmaster replied. 

Clements looked like she might cry. “I didn’t know it would go that far. I swear.”

It took effort not to let his mouth thin into a line. “What did you do?” 

And Clements talked.

She told him everything. About how she, Emma Barnes, and Sophia Hess had made Taylor’s life miserable for months. How they’d coordinated harassment, sabotaged her schoolwork, spread rumors, and isolated her socially. How Emma, once her best friend, had led the charge with a cruelty that made Madison uncomfortable. How Sophia had escalated it and frequently made it physical. And how, on that day, they’d stuffed her into the locker.

Filled with used feminine products and rotting biological waste.

When Clements finally left, Armsmaster remained seated in the borrowed school office for a long time, unmoving. Not analyzing, not compiling, not even thinking, just… existing in a void of cold understanding.

Taylor Hebert had been forced into that locker.

She had triggered there. 

Because of Sophia Hess. 

Because of one of his Wards.

He’d always known Hess was aggressive. Her file included early arrest records, and even post-recruitment, there had been red flags: overuse of force, unsanctioned outings, and a tendency to vanish during patrols. He’d rationalized it, and told himself she was a product of her environment. That, with enough time, the structure and oversight of the Wards program would shape her into something better.

He’d been wrong.

And now Hebert—the girl Hess had tormented—was under his command too.

Which made this his failure. 

He had failed to screen his team properly. Failed to investigate the vague warnings that surfaced over the years. Failed to see how violent Hess could be, and trusted a system that had allowed her to operate unchecked until it had nearly destroyed someone.

Worse, Hebert had never said a word.

Maybe she hadn’t known Hess was on the Wards team. Apart from Gallant, Hebert hadn’t formally met the others yet; there was always something happening that made them postpone the orientation.

That was… fortunate.

Because if she had known—if she had walked into that Wards common room and seen Sophia Hess in uniform—Armsmaster didn’t know what would have happened, but he doubted it would’ve been pretty.

He stood from his desk and paced slowly across the tiled flooring of his office, the servos in his gauntlets whirring softly as he clenched his hands.

There was only one thing to do now.

He would go to Director Piggot with Clements’ statement, his findings, and a recommendation for immediate disciplinary action: at minimum, removal of Sophia Hess from the Wards program. Possibly criminal charges. He would make it clear this was non-negotiable.

And after that… he would find a way to speak to Hebert.

He didn’t know what he would say. What could he say?

But he owed her something. 

Because for all his faith in his capabilities, in data, in protocol, he had missed something critical. And she, maybe others too, had suffered for it.