(LIMITLESS) INTERLUDE: FEAR

Sophia Hess wasn’t afraid of much.

She’d walked the backstreets of Brockton Bay long before she ever got her powers, through alleys thick with ABB thugs with knives in their pockets and murder in their eyes, and Merchants screaming obscenities through cracked teeth and drug-fuelled highs. She’d chased down criminals through burnt-out housing blocks, and once gone toe-to-toe with Stormtiger before backup arrived and she had to strategically flee. 

Fear didn’t fit into her worldview. She was the predator. That was the whole point of being Shadow Stalker.

So she told herself, again and again, that this wasn’t fear.

Not really.

The Wards’ common room was dim and empty, the other Wards out on one thing or the other. Sophia sat sprawled on the couch, one leg slung over the armrest, her mask dangling from her fingers. The screen in front of her showed nothing but her screensaver, and a schoolbook lay open on her laps, but she wasn’t looking at either of them. She was lost in memory.

That alley. That mugger. That girl.

The man with a knife had lunged toward Hebert, only to be yanked forward mid-step by an unseen force. Then a sound, wet and decidedly final, like someone dropping a watermelon from a rooftop. There had been no warning. One moment moving, the next, undone.

And the worst part, Hebert hadn’t even known what she was doing yet.

That was the part that twisted Sophia’s stomach into knots.

She’d seen the girl trigger. 

Not in the metaphorical sense. She had been there. No, more than that, she’d caused it. Or helped it happen. Whatever language made it easier for Emma to sleep at night.

The real reason Hebert was a cape, the real reason she had powers now, wasn’t some tragic freak accident. It wasn’t loss, or grief, or a drive to do better.

It was a locker.

Her locker.

And Sophia had helped shove her in it.

She remembered the belated realization. The way Hebert had struggled as they pushed and pushed. The screams and pleas to stop, for help. The godawful stench. The way Hebert’s fists pounded on metal until they went silent.

She remembered the moment the locker banged open, and the thing that had crawled out.

Because that wasn’t the same girl.

There’d been no blood, no grime, not even insect husks or used pads clinging to her hair and sleeves like expected. But that wasn’t even what made everyone go quiet.

It was the eyes. 

Blue, glowing faintly, and beautiful in a way that unsettled her down to the bone.

They met hers, and Sophia froze.

Hebert didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t curse. Didn’t point or accuse. Didn't even talk. She just looked at her.

And it was enough.

It was the first and only time, since her trigger event, she had felt real fear without knowing why.

Sophia had laughed it off later. Told Emma it was just nerves and bad lighting. Hebert finally broke. It was honestly a long time coming. 

But she hadn’t laughed since.

Because Hebert hadn’t disappeared like she was supposed to, like the weak did. She hadn’t dropped out of school and drowned herself in therapy bills and hospital visits. She hadn’t turned into a quiet, trembling mess in need of rescuing.

She’d changed. Came back confident. 

And now?

Now she wasn’t just another vigilante trying to take on the city by herself. Now she was living down the hallway. A Ward. One of them. Eating the same shitty food in the same shitty cafeteria in the same shitty building as everyone else. 

Sophia’s mask creaked in her grip as her fingers dug into it.

Taylor Hebert, the nobody, was now the most dangerous person in the building. Maybe in the city. A Trump. A Shaker. A Brute and Mover when she needed to be, with a forcefield that tanked hits that should’ve crushed her. Triumvirate-tier, the reports were saying. Triumvirate.

She’d utterly crushed Lung, the most dangerous cape in the city before her trigger. Took down Night and Fog in minutes like they were amateurs. Night and fucking Fog. 

Whenever Hebert came into the HQ, she walked with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Like she wasn’t aware of how many people were scared to meet her eyes. Like the whispers didn’t reach her. Maybe they didn’t. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

Sophia didn’t know what was worse.

But she did know she felt guilty.

Not for what she did, no. Maybe it was stupid. Cruel, even. But Sophia didn’t hate her. A part of her just liked knowing she could push someone down and they wouldn’t push back. And at the time, Taylor Hebert was nothing. One of those kids who hugged the walls and acted like every glance was a threat. Forgettable, quiet, and weak. The kind of person you picked out early, marked as prey, and never had to think about again.

But things didn’t go that way.

Because Hebert didn’t stay prey.

She grew fangs.

So no, Sophia didn’t feel guilty for doing it.

She felt guilty for not knowing what she was really poking at.

She felt guilty for pushing so hard, so long, that when Hebert finally snapped, the thing that stepped out of that dark, filthy locker wasn’t a victim anymore but a predator.

A bigger and stronger one than her.

No one close to her knew the truth. The PRT thought Hebert had triggered during a confrontation at school, dropped out, found a mentor, and picked up some training. That was how they were justifying the trail of violence and death behind her.

But secrets didn't stay buried for long. Other people had witnessed the Trigger event, and there was no doubt her name was floating about in the rumor mill. It was only a matter of time before the truth finally came out.

And when it did? When those eyes turned on her again, and remembered exactly what Sophia had done? Or worse, when they were finally introduced to each other later this week? 

She didn’t think anything would stop what came next.

Not Armsmaster with his armor. Not Miss Militia with her guns. Not Piggot with her rules. Not any of the heroes in the PRT with their vaunted powers. 

Not from someone as powerful as Taylor fucking Hebert.