OnAHiatus

CHAPTER SIX: THE FIRST CHALLENGER

The night air carried a chill, thick with the scent of damp asphalt and cigarette smoke. Taylor moved through the streets with her hands in her pockets, her hood pulled low and mask secure. She wasn’t looking for trouble tonight—just information. The gangs were on edge, their patrols more frequent, their movements more coordinated. She needed to know why.

She turned a corner into a narrow alley, stepping over broken glass. Then—

Wind howled.

She barely saw the fi...

INTERLUDE II: THE CONFRONTATION

Taylor had known for the past three blocks that she was being followed.  

It was subtle, almost imperceptible—just a faint shift in the rhythm of the city behind her, a presence that never quite faded, no matter how many turns she took. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. Even most trained fighters would’ve written it off as nerves.  

But she wasn’t most people.  

She didn’t change her pace, didn’t tense, didn’t even acknowledge it....

INTERLUDE I: DISAMBIGUATION

Spoiler was not Lisa.  

It should have been obvious from the start. Sure, there were surface-level similarities—the sharp wit, the quick comebacks, the way she carried herself with a kind of effortless confidence. But that’s where it ended. The rest was just Taylor’s mind playing tricks on her, trying to force Spoiler into a mold that didn’t fit. A reflex she couldn’t shake, no matter how hard she tried.  

She knew why.  

Lisa had been...

CHAPTER EIGHT: TRIAL BY FIRE

The night air was heavy with humidity, carrying the briny tang of the bay. Greg adjusted his mask as he moved along the dimly lit street…

The night air was heavy with humidity, carrying the briny tang of the bay. Greg adjusted his mask as he moved along the dimly lit street, his breath steady despite the tension coiled in his chest. Something felt off tonight.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," Blake's voice murmured in his head, edged with worry.

Greg winced. She was ri...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND DRIVE-THRUS

The car idled in the slow-moving line, its low hum blending with the muffled chatter of the intercom. Ahead, red taillights glowed in the fading dusk, casting a faint glow on the menu board’s list of burgers, chicken, fries, and milkshakes.  

Contessa sat in the passenger seat, watching. “This is inefficient.”  

Maggie let out a short laugh. “You’ve said that about half the things we do.”  

“It would be faster to park and order ins...

INTERLUDE: THE PATH TO BROCKTON BAY

The jungle stretched endlessly before it, thick with the scent of life. Insects swarmed in dense clouds, unseen creatures rustled in the undergrowth, and somewhere in the distance, a predator shrieked as it made its kill.

Yet their instincts warned them of something unnatural in their midst—something that did not belong. It moved through it all without sound, the constructs it had birthed from Steelback’s knowledge trailing in silent reverence. Crude mockeries of life, but obedient....

INTERLUDE: LIMITS

The room spun.

Taylor barely had time to register the shift before her knees buckled, her vision darkening at the edges. She collapsed onto the stiff motel mattress, limbs heavy, breath shallow.

Her body felt hollow, like something had been siphoning her strength without her noticing. Now, there was nothing left.

That wasn’t normal.

She forced herself to breathe—slow, steady. This wasn’t just exhaustion from the past few days. Not just the fights, the stress, the...

CHAPTER FIVE: FALSE MASKS

Armsmaster was efficient. That was what made him one of the best.

A new vigilante appearing in Brockton Bay—one who seemingly couldn’t be touched—wasn’t something he could ignore. The PRT had been tracking the rumors, but it didn’t take long for them to connect the dots. A teenage girl, manifesting an unknown power immediately after a public trigger event in Winslow High School? The timeline fit. And thanks to Shadow Stalker’s report, they already had a name.

Taylor He...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND GROCERY SHOPPING

The grocery store was bright and bustling, filled with the low murmur of conversation, the squeak of cart wheels down aisles, and the occasional crackle of the overhead speakers. Shoppers moved with purpose, some scanning lists, others pausing to debate their choices.

Contessa followed Maggie through the produce section, watching as she picked up an apple, turned it in her hand, and gave it a firm press with her thumb.

“You gotta check for bruises,” Maggie said. “Soft spots ...

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: THE NEXT PHASE

Taylor adjusted her mask and moved deeper into the warehouse, Spoiler close behind. Crates were stacked high against the walls, turning the space into a maze of stolen goods, smuggled weapons, and stripped-down tech. Workbenches lined the walkways, covered in half-assembled devices and scattered tools. Everything was arranged for quick sortation and distribution, a well-oiled operation.

But Taylor wasn’t looking for the standard fare. She was here to find out why Mark Richards had bee...

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE ENTITIES

The city lay in ruins, its outskirts choked with ash and twisted metal. No alarms blared, no authorities rushed to contain the aftermath. No. 9 had left no survivors. 

Yet amidst the devastation, something still moved.

A lone figure stood on the rooftop of a half-collapsed building, watching the carnage below. They were draped in tattered robes, their face obscured beneath a hood stitched with strange, shifting symbols. Their presence was wrong—not in the way No. 9...

INTERLUDE: AN UNTOUCHABLE PROBLEM

Taylor had known this would happen eventually.

Word spread fast in Brockton Bay, especially in the parts of the city ruled by fear. Gangs thrived on control, on the certainty that no one could cross them and get away with it. And for the past week, someone had been proving them wrong.

A nobody in a hoodie. A girl who should have been easy to break.

Except no one could touch her.

The first sign that word had spread came when she spotted a group of Merchants lingering ne...

CHAPTER FOUR: FIRST STEPS AS A GHOST

The gym was one of those 24-hour places, wedged between a laundromat and a convenience store. The kind that didn’t ask questions. The guy at the front barely looked up as she slid a few crumpled bills across the counter, mumbling something about needing a month’s membership.

The shower was more of a relief than she expected. Hot water streamed over her skin, washing away the grime of the previous day, unknotting tension she hadn’t even realized she was carrying.

Afterward, s...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND FIREWORKS

The night sky above the fairgrounds stretched dark and endless, broken only by the occasional flicker of movement as people milled about, anticipation hanging in the air. The scent of fried food, wood smoke, and the last traces of summer warmth mingled together, wrapping the place in a familiar, comforting haze.

Contessa stood near the edge of the crowd, watching as children wove between their parents, glow sticks and sparklers trailing streaks of light in their hands. Beside her, Mag...

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: MARKED FOR DEATH

Taylor had always been good at observation. Reading patterns, mapping territories, learning how people moved and why. It was how she survived Brockton Bay, how she adapted to Gotham. But even with her growing understanding of the city’s criminal underbelly, there were still players she hadn’t accounted for.

Tonight, that changed.

She crouched beside Spoiler on the rooftop, overlooking an abandoned warehouse on Gotham’s east side. The structure had long since been gutted, its...

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — SUPERMAN

The Simurgh was breaking.

Superman had fought gods, monsters, and beings of impossible power. He had battled cosmic horrors, extraterrestrial tyrants, and held dying stars in his hands. But nothing—no war, no villain—had ever felt quite like this. 

Pieces of her existed in his rogues’ gallery: the cold intellect of Brainiac, the inevitability of Darkseid, and the future manipulation of Time Trapper. Yet none combined it all. None blurred the line between machine and ome...

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — SIMURGH

The Simurgh hovered above Earth's atmosphere, her vast wings unfurling in slow, methodical motions that defied physics. Her platinum-white hair drifted weightlessly, framing an expression of perfect serenity—an image at odds with the devastation she was about to unleash.

Her gaze swept across the battlefield. Below, Earth’s defenders scrambled to deploy their countermeasures. Above, the being before her stood unwavering, a figure who had defied all expectations: Superman.

He l...

CHAPTER THREE: SEEING THE SYSTEM

Breaking into her own house felt… wrong.

But she had no choice.

It was past midnight when she slipped through the back door with the spare key, careful not to let it creak. The house was dark, but not empty. She knew her dad was still awake before she even saw him.

His breathing was steady but deep, the kind of slow inhales that came from exhaustion rather than rest. She peered into the living room and saw him there, slouched in his chair, staring blankly at the television...

CHAPTER SEVEN: UNWANTED ATTENTION

♦ Welcome to the Parahumans Online Message Boards ♦ You are currently logged in, XxVoid_CowboyxX You are viewing: 

♦ Welcome to the Parahumans Online Message Boards ♦

You are currently logged in, XxVoid_CowboyxX

You are viewing: 

•  Threads you have replied to 

•  AND Threads that have new replies 

•  OR private message conversations with new replies 

•  Thread OP is display...

CHAPTER TWO: LIMITLESS POSSIBILITIES

The city breathed.

Taylor could see it—every flicker of a streetlamp, every ripple in a puddle as the wind swept through the streets. The distant hum of neon signs, the uneven cracks in the sidewalk, the way the rain gathered in the shallow dips of the pavement before spilling over. The world stretched out before her in impossible clarity, as if she’d been blind her whole life and only now had opened her eyes.

And it was too much.

She pressed her hands to her head, breat...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND STUFFED ANIMALS

The town fair was modest—just a few rows of booths, a handful of rides, and the scent of fried food hanging in the warm evening air. Children darted past, clutching oversized stuffed animals, while groups of teenagers hovered near the game stalls, egging each other on to try their luck.

Contessa stood at the edge of the crowd, quietly taking it all.

Maggie nudged her with an elbow. “C’mon, hon, you’re supposed to be having fun.”

“I am observing.”

�...

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: A FRIEND, NOT LISA

Gotham was exhausting.

Not in the physical sense—Taylor had long since pushed past the point where fatigue could slow her down—but in the way the city worked. She had seen how crime functioned back in Brockton Bay: territory disputes, power struggles, gangs and villains carving up the streets like a carcass. It was brutal, but it made some sense.  

Gotham was worse. 

In just one night in the Narrows, she’d stopped four mug...

CHAPTER ONE: THE EYES THAT SEE EVERYTHING

Pain.

That was the first thing Taylor expected to feel when she woke up. Pain, nausea, the sticky, suffocating wetness of filth clinging to her skin—something, anything, to remind her of where she had been. Of what they had done to her.

But there was nothing. 

No pain, no weakness, no filth. Just a strange, unnatural clarity that settled over her like a second skin.  

She blinked.

The world burst into detail.

Cracks s...

CHAPTER SIX: STEELBACK’S TRAP

The desert night stretched vast and unbroken, a sea of sand beneath a cold, indifferent moon. The wind whispered secrets across the dunes, carrying with it the faintest scent of ozone and decay. The mercenaries lay in wait, hidden beneath cloaking fields and sensor dampeners, their breaths shallow. 

Their leader, Steelback, stood at the center of their formation, armor gleaming faintly under the moonlight—a patchwork of cutting-edge Tinker tech and salvaged Endbringer-fighting eq...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND… CARD GAMES

The folding table wobbled slightly as Maggie shuffled the deck with practiced ease, cards slipping between her fingers in a smooth cascade. Contessa watched, hands tucked neatly on her laps, taking in the movement. Precise. Controlled. A learned skill.

Maggie grinned. “Alright, hon. Ever played before?”

Contessa glanced at the scattered poker chips and the deck of cards. “No.”

“Perfect. You’ll pick it up quick.” Maggie dealt the cards, sliding them across the t...

INTERLUDE: THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE

The monitors cast a dim, bluish glow across the room, their soft hum the only sound breaking the silence. Noah Kuttler—the Calculator—leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. Lines of data scrolled across the screens, each window feeding him something new. Security footage, heat maps, transaction logs, communications intercepts—all converging into a single point of interest.

A masked vigilante in Gotham.

Female. 

New. 

Dangerous. 

CHAPTER FIVE: THE ATTACK (PART II)

The thing twitched. Its stance had changed—looser, more fluid, yet undeniably predatory. Watching. Calculating. It had survived the first exchange, and now it knew their abilities.

It was prepared.

Aegir pushed himself up, shaking off the impact, water still swirling around him. “We’re not making a dent.”

Caldera peeled himself from the rubble, his skin glowing hot from absorbed energy. “Then we hit it harder.”

Their initial plan had failed, so they needed ...

THE CHOICE

Taylor lingered in the ruins, half-hidden in the shadows of a collapsed building. The battle with the cannibal was over. The scavenger she had saved had long since fled, but one other person remained.

Brian.

He stood at the edge of the wreckage, scanning the area with narrowed eyes, his posture tense. He had arrived too late to see the fight itself, but the aftermath told enough of a story—scattered debris, a smear of blood, and the unmistakable remnants of her swarm constructs....

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: A CLASH OF STYLES

Taylor heard the commotion before she saw it.

A voice—loud, frustrated, and definitely unprofessional. “Oh, come on! What kind of loser sets a trap just to watch people fight?”

Then a crash, followed by a very annoyed groan.

She rounded the corner just in time to see a masked figure—purple, with a hood and cape—dealing with the last of the retreating mercenaries. Dealing with was a generous term, though. More like flailing at.

Spoiler.

Taylor h...

CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND… FISHING

The dock stretched over the water, its weathered planks creaking softly beneath their feet. The lake was still, save for the occasional ripple, reflecting the sky in muted shades of blue and gray.

Contessa stood near the edge, watching as Maggie cast her fishing line with an easy flick of the wrist. The bobber landed with a quiet plunk, drifting lazily on the surface.

Maggie sighed, content. “And now, we wait.”

Contessa glanced at the bucket beside her, then at ...