Taylor leaned back in her chair, a contented smile on her face as she surveyed the Winslow cafeteria. The buzz of excited chatter filled the air, students eagerly discussing their plans for the upcoming spring break. It had been a week since the Simurgh's attack on Canberra, and while the tension of that event still lingered, life at Winslow was returning to its usual rhythm.

  She caught sight of Emma across the room, her best friend holding court at a table surrounded by admirers. Emma was gesticulating animatedly, no doubt regaling them with tales of her latest modeling gig. Taylor's gaze drifted to Emma's outfit – a sneak peek from the new fashion line she was representing. The neckline plunged lower than Taylor was entirely comfortable with, but she had to admit that Emma wore it well. Her friend had certainly... been developing recently.

  "Earth to Taylor!" Madison's voice broke through her reverie. "Did you hear what I just said?"

  Taylor blinked, focusing on the petite girl seated across from her. "Sorry, Mads. I was lost in thought for a second there. What's up?"

  Madison's face lit up with an almost manic glee. "Greg and I are engaged!"

  Taylor's eyes widened in surprise. "Engaged? Oh my gosh, Madison! That's amazing!" She reached across the table to grab Madison's hands, her earlier concerns momentarily forgotten. "Tell me everything! How did he propose?"

  Taylor caught herself drifting into a daydream as Madison described Greg's romantic proposal. She imagined Theo down on one knee, perhaps at the next Medhall gala, or maybe during a quiet dinner at that fancy Italian place they both loved. He'd probably have the twins help set everything up - they'd been warming up to her lately, especially after she'd taught them that soufflé recipe.

  She pictured the ring - nothing too ostentatious, Theo knew her taste. Something elegant and classic, like the ones in those vintage magazines she'd been collecting. The thought of being Mrs. Anders made her heart flutter.

  Taylor shook her head slightly, forcing herself back to reality. No, she shouldn't let her mind wander like that. A proper lady waited for her man to make such decisions in his own time. Theo would propose when he felt ready, when the moment was right. Until then, her role was to be supportive and patient.

  Besides, they both had so much work ahead of them with the Deer Lodge. The organization needed a strong foundation before they could think about their personal future together. Taylor smiled softly to herself as she refocused on Madison's excited chatter about wedding colors and bridesmaid dresses.

  Madison beamed, her cheeks flushing with excitement. "It was so romantic! We were at the park, having a picnic, and he just got down on one knee right there in front of everyone. The ring is gorgeous too – look!"

  She extended her left hand, showing off a delicate silver band adorned with a small but sparkling diamond. The other girls at the table cooed and gasped appreciatively.

  "It's beautiful," Taylor said sincerely. "Have you set a date yet?"

  Madison shook her head. "Not yet. We're thinking maybe in two summers, after graduation. My parents are going to flip when they find out, though."

  At the mention of Madison's parents, a flicker of worry crossed Taylor's mind. Was this moving too fast? Had her tech pushed things further than she'd intended? She pushed the thought aside, focusing on her friend's happiness.

  "Speaking of your parents," Taylor said carefully, "how do you think they'll react?"

  Madison's smile took on a slightly sharp edge. "Oh, they'll hate it. They've been talking about setting me up with the son of one of Dad's golf buddies. As if I'd let them arrange my life like that."

  Taylor nodded, relieved. If this was Madison's way of asserting her independence, then maybe things weren't so bad after all. "Well, I'm happy for you, Mads. You and Greg are great together."

  "Thanks, Taylor," Madison said, her expression softening. "I just wish... well, never mind."

  "What is it?" Taylor pressed gently.

  Madison sighed. "It's just... I wish my parents would act more like proper adults, you know? Set a better example." She lowered her voice. "The cheating, the constant arguing – it's exhausting."

  Taylor blinked, taken aback by Madison's candor. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. "You know, I might have a book that could help with that. Something to help them... see things more clearly."

  Madison's eyes lit up with understanding. "Really? That would be amazing, Taylor. You're such a good friend."

  As the conversation drifted to other topics, Taylor sat back, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Everything was working out perfectly. She was helping her friends, improving the school, and soon, she'd be making families stronger too. What could possibly go wrong?

  The rest of lunch passed in a whirlwind of wedding talk and romantic sighs. When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Taylor gathered her things and headed for her next class: U.S. History.

  As she entered the classroom, Taylor was surprised to see an unfamiliar face at the teacher's desk. The woman was striking – tall and fit, with an olive complexion and dark hair pulled back in a neat bun. She radiated an aura of quiet competence that immediately commanded respect.

  "Good afternoon, class," the woman said as the students settled into their seats. "I'm Ms. Washington. I'll be your substitute for the remainder of the year while Mrs. Johnson is on maternity leave."

  Taylor studied Ms. Washington curiously. There was something familiar about her, though Taylor couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. As the lesson began, Taylor found herself impressed by the new teacher's knowledge and engaging teaching style.

  After class, Taylor lingered, wanting to introduce herself properly. "That was a great lesson, Ms. Washington," she said. "I'm Taylor Hebert."

  Ms. Washington smiled, though Taylor noticed a flicker of... something in her eyes. Recognition? Wariness? It was gone so quickly Taylor wondered if she'd imagined it.

  "Thank you, Taylor," Ms. Washington replied. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm looking forward to getting to know all of you over the coming months."

  As Taylor left the classroom, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Ms. Washington than met the eye. But with spring break on the horizon and the usual whirlwind of Winslow drama to contend with, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

  The next few days passed in a blur of activity. Taylor split her time between school, her 'internship' at Medhall, and spending time with Theo. The Deer Lodge was gaining traction in the community, and Taylor found herself constantly tweaking and refining her tech to support their efforts.

  It was during one of these work sessions that Taylor received an unexpected visitor. She looked up from her workbench to see Rune – no, Scribe now – hovering uncertainly in the doorway of her lab.

  "Can I help you?" Taylor asked, careful to keep her voice neutral. She and Tammi had never been close, and the younger girl's suspicion of her was well-known.

  Scribe fidgeted with the hem of her new costume. "I... I wanted to talk to you about something," she said, her usual bravado noticeably absent.

  Taylor gestured for her to come in, curiosity piqued. "What's on your mind?"

  Scribe took a deep breath. "It's about your tech. The... the cookies you gave me."

  Taylor's heart rate picked up. She'd been wondering when this conversation might happen. "Go on," she said carefully.

  "I know what you're doing," Scribe blurted out. "You're trying to turn me into some baby-making machine for the Empire, aren't you?"

  Taylor blinked, taken aback by the accusation. "What? No, that's not–"

  "Don't lie to me!" Scribe snapped. "I've been... I've been having these thoughts. Daydreaming about settling down, having a family. That's not me! I'm a fighter, not some housewife!"

  Taylor sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Tammi, sit down," she said, gesturing to a nearby chair. After a moment's hesitation, the girl complied.

  Taylor leaned back in her chair, meeting Tammi's accusatory gaze with a calm expression. "Tammi, I promise you, the cookies aren't tinkertech. They're just... cookies. Good ones, I'll admit, but still just regular baked goods."

  Tammi's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Then why am I feeling this way? These thoughts aren't like me at all!"

  "Have you considered that maybe it's not the cookies, but everything else that's changing around you?" Taylor suggested gently. "Look at the Deer Lodge, the community we're building. It's natural to be influenced by your surroundings."

  Tammi crossed her arms, still defensive but looking less certain. "What do you mean?"

  Taylor gestured broadly. "Think about it. A lot of the capes you've looked up to are settling down, starting families. It's only natural that you might start considering those things for yourself too."

  "But I never wanted that before," Tammi protested weakly.

  "People change, Tammi. Especially at our age," Taylor said. "And it's not like this is some new concept for the Empire. Krieg has a wife and three kids, and that was long before I came on the scene."

  Tammi blinked, clearly not having considered that. "I... I guess that's true."

  Taylor pressed on, sensing she was getting through. "And look at Bombadier and Sparrow. They've started serious relationships recently. Seeing that, it's bound to make you think about your own future."

  "Maybe," Tammi admitted reluctantly. "But it still feels... wrong. Like it's not really me."

  Taylor leaned forward, her voice earnest. "Tammi, I haven't forced you to use any of my pods. You haven't had any skills implanted. These feelings, they're coming from you. Maybe they're new and scary, but they're yours."

  Tammi was quiet for a long moment, processing this. "I just... I always saw myself as a fighter. Not someone's wife or... or mother."

  "Who says you can't be both?" Taylor asked. "Look at Othala – sorry, Nightingale. She just announced her pregnancy, and she's only a couple years older than us. But she's still an active cape, still part of the team."

  "That's different," Tammi argued. "Her power isn't combat-oriented like mine."

  Taylor shrugged. "Maybe. But there are plenty of heroes and villains out there who balance family life with cape activities. It's not an either-or situation."

  Tammi fidgeted with the edge of her costume, looking conflicted. "I just... I don't know. It's all so confusing."

  "That's okay," Taylor said softly. "You don't have to have it all figured out right now. You're young, Tammi. We both are. There's time to explore these feelings, to figure out what you really want."

  Tammi looked up, meeting Taylor's eyes. "You really think so?"

  Taylor nodded. "I do. And hey, if you ever want to talk about this stuff more, I'm here. No tech, no tricks. Just... girl talk, you know?"

  A ghost of a smile flickered across Tammi's face. "I... I might take you up on that. Thanks, Taylor."

  As Tammi left the lab, looking slightly less troubled than when she'd entered, Taylor let out a long breath. She hadn't lied, exactly. The cookies weren't tinkertech. But the milk she'd served with them? That was another story entirely.

  Taylor turned back to her workbench, mind already spinning with new ideas. She'd have to be more careful going forward, more subtle. But the potential was there, just waiting to be tapped.

  She thought of Madison's engagement, of the changes she'd seen in her friends and classmates. Most seemed happier, more focused. But was that justification enough?

  Taylor's musings were interrupted by a knock at the door. She looked up to see Theo standing there, a warm smile on his face.

  "Hey," he said, crossing the room to plant a kiss on her cheek. "You looked like you were a million miles away. Everything okay?"

  Taylor managed a small smile. "Just... thinking about things. The tech, the changes we're making. Sometimes I wonder if we're doing the right thing."

  Theo's expression grew serious. He pulled up a chair, sitting down beside her. "Having doubts?"

  Taylor nodded. "Tammi was just here. She's freaking out a bit about some of the effects. And with Madison getting engaged... I don't know. Maybe we're pushing too hard, too fast."

  Theo was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "You know," he said finally, "my father would say that doubt is weakness. That we should push forward, consequences be damned."

  Taylor tensed slightly, but Theo continued.

  "But I think... I think doubt can be a strength. It keeps us honest, makes us question our choices. As long as it doesn't paralyze us."

  He reached out, taking Taylor's hand in his. "We're trying to make the world better, Taylor. It's not always going to be easy, and we're bound to make some mistakes along the way. But I believe in what we're doing. And I believe in you."

  Taylor felt some of the tension leave her body. She squeezed Theo's hand, grateful for his steadying presence. "When did you get so wise?" she teased gently.

  Theo grinned. "Must be all those leadership seminars you're making me take."

  They shared a laugh, the heaviness of the moment dissipating. As they settled into a comfortable silence, Taylor's mind drifted to the upcoming spring break. A week off from school, a chance to focus on their plans for the city.

  "So," Theo said, breaking into her thoughts. "Any big plans for break?"

  Taylor smirked. "Oh, you know. The usual. Revolutionize society, reshape the political landscape of Brockton Bay. Maybe catch a movie if there's time."

  Theo chuckled. "Sounds like a packed schedule. Think you can pencil me in for a date night?"

  "I suppose I could clear my calendar," Taylor replied, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Did you have something in mind?"

  "Well," Theo said, a mischievous glint in his eye, "I heard there's this new Italian place downtown. Supposedly the owner has some... interesting connections. Might be worth checking out."

  Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Interesting connections, huh? You wouldn't happen to be mixing business with pleasure, would you?"

  Theo held up his hands in mock surrender. "Can't a guy take his girlfriend out for a nice dinner without ulterior motives?"

  "A guy, sure," Taylor teased. "You? I'm not so certain."

  Their banter was interrupted by the chime of Taylor's phone. She glanced at the screen, seeing a message from Emma.

  "Everything okay?" Theo asked, noting the slight furrow in Taylor's brow.

  "Yeah, it's fine," Taylor said. "Emma wants to meet up. Says she has some big news about her modeling career."

  Theo nodded. "You should go. We can finish planning our date later."

  Taylor hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks for understanding," she said, giving him a quick kiss before gathering her things.

  As she headed out to meet Emma, Taylor's mind was already racing with possibilities. What could her friend's news be? And how might it factor into their larger plans for Brockton Bay?

  The coffee shop was bustling when Taylor arrived, the late afternoon crowd filling the air with the hum of conversation and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. She spotted Emma immediately, her friend's vibrant red hair standing out even in the crowded space.

  "Taylor!" Emma waved enthusiastically, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Over here!"

  As Taylor made her way to the table, she couldn't help but notice the looks Emma was attracting. Her friend was wearing another piece from the new fashion line – a form-fitting top that, once again, seemed designed to emphasize Emma's... assets.

  "Hey, Em," Taylor said, sliding into the seat. "You're certainly turning heads today."

  Emma preened a bit at the observation. "That's kind of the point," she said with a wink. "But forget about that for a second. I have huge news!"

  Taylor leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "Alright, I'm all ears. What's going on?"

  Emma took a dramatic pause, clearly savoring the moment. "I," she announced, "have been chosen as the face of Parian's new line!"

  Taylor's eyes widened. Parian was a rogue cape, known for her incredible fabric manipulation and avant-garde designs. Landing a contract with her was a major coup for any model, let alone one still in high school.

  "Emma, that's amazing!" Taylor exclaimed. "How did this happen?"

  Emma launched into the story, her words tumbling out in an excited rush. Apparently, Parian had seen some of Emma's recent work and had been impressed by her ability to carry off bold, unconventional designs. A meeting had been arranged, and Emma had charmed the shy designer with her enthusiasm and professionalism.

  "It's going to be incredible, Taylor," Emma gushed. "Parian's stuff is like nothing else out there. And with my ideas for how to market it? We're going to take the fashion world by storm!"

  As Emma continued to outline her plans, Taylor found her mind racing. This could be a significant opportunity, not just for Emma, but for their larger goals. Parian was well-respected in the cape community, and having a connection to her could open up all sorts of possibilities.

  "I'm so happy for you, Emma," Taylor said warmly. "You've worked hard for this. You deserve it."

  Emma beamed at the praise. "Thanks, Taylor. I couldn't have done it without you, you know. Your study guides, your support... you've been amazing."

  A flicker of guilt passed through Taylor at the mention of her 'study guides,' but she pushed it aside. This was Emma's moment, and she wasn't going to let her doubts overshadow her friend's achievement.

  "So," Taylor said, leaning back in her chair. "When do you start? And more importantly, when do I get to see some of these amazing designs?"

  Emma's eyes lit up. "Well, funny you should ask..." She reached into her bag, pulling out a sleek portfolio. "Parian gave me some preliminary sketches. Want a sneak peek?"

  Taylor nodded eagerly, and Emma began to flip through the portfolio. The designs were stunning – intricate, otherworldly creations that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Taylor marveled at the way fabric twisted and flowed in impossible ways, creating silhouettes that were at once alien and breathtakingly beautiful.

  "These are incredible," Taylor breathed. "But... how is this even possible? Some of these designs look like they'd fall apart the moment someone tried to wear them."

  Emma grinned. "That's the beauty of working with a cape designer," she explained. "Parian's power lets her maintain the structure of the garments. They'll hold their shape perfectly, no matter what."

  As they continued to pore over the sketches, Taylor's mind was already spinning with possibilities. If Parian could manipulate fabric to this degree, what other applications might her power have? And how might they be able to incorporate some of her technology into the projects? Could she collaborate with Parian to create dresses that would reinforce roles. It was an interesting thought.

  "You know," Taylor said slowly, an idea forming. "I bet Theo would be really interested in seeing some of these designs. The Deer Lodge has been looking for ways to support local artists and entrepreneurs. Maybe we could set up some kind of showcase for Parian's work?"

  Emma's eyes widened. "That would be amazing! Do you really think Theo could make that happen?"

  Taylor nodded. "I'm sure he'd be on board. It's exactly the kind of positive community engagement we've been talking about. Plus, it could be a great way to bring some positive attention to the cape community."

  As they continued to discuss the possibilities, Taylor felt a renewed sense of purpose. This was why they were doing all of this – to create opportunities, to bring people together, to make Brockton Bay a better place. Yes, there were risks and ethical quandaries to navigate, but moments like this reminded her of the potential for good in their work.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a whirlwind of excited planning and catching up. As they finally said their goodbyes, Taylor found herself energized and optimistic about the future. Spring break was just around the corner, and with it, a chance to push their plans forward in exciting new ways.

  Miss Militia sat in her temporary office at Winslow High, tapping her fingers nervously on the desk as she waited for Armsmaster to pick up the secure line. When his gruff voice finally came through, she breathed a small sigh of relief.

  "Hannah. How's the undercover assignment going?" Armsmaster asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

  "So far, so good," she replied. "The students seem well-behaved and engaged in the material. It's actually quite impressive."

  There was a pause before Armsmaster spoke again, his tone laced with disapproval. "I still don't like the fact that you're there. We know Winslow is ground zero for Miss Stepford's operations. It's too risky."

  Hannah sighed. "Colin, we've been over this. Dauntless is under pressure from Piggot to get results, and I'm the one with the actual history degree. With the ABB practically gone, half the Empire going legit, and Coil and the Merchants laying low, they don't need me for regular patrols as much right now."

  "That doesn't mean you should be putting yourself in unnecessary danger," Armsmaster countered. "We have no idea the full extent of Miss Stepford's abilities or how far her influence has spread within the school."

  "I know, I know," Hannah said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. "But I've had the latest Master/Stranger training. I'm being careful, I promise."

  Armsmaster grumbled something unintelligible before speaking clearly again. "Just... don't take any unnecessary risks, alright? It's not worth it."

  "I'll be fine, Colin," Hannah assured him. "I'll see you on the weekend, okay?"

  After ending the call, Hannah took a deep breath and gathered her teaching materials. As she made her way to her first class of the day, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. Despite the potential dangers, there was something oddly thrilling about this undercover assignment.

  The students filed into the classroom, taking their seats without the usual chatter and restlessness Hannah had come to expect from teenagers. As she began her lecture on the Civil War, she was pleasantly surprised by how attentive and engaged the class seemed to be. They asked insightful questions and even engaged in thoughtful debates about the various factors that led to the conflict.

  After class, Hannah noticed Madison lingering by her desk, a sparkle catching her eye. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was an engagement ring.

  "That's a lovely ring, Madison," Hannah commented, curiosity getting the better of her. "Is there a special occasion?"

  Madison's face lit up with a bright smile. "Oh, yes! I just got engaged over the weekend. Greg proposed, and it was so romantic!"

  Hannah's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Madison couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen. "Wow, that's... quite a commitment at your age. Congratulations," she said, trying to keep her tone neutral. Then, as delicately as she could, she asked, "Are you... expecting?"

  Madison's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head. "Oh, no! Nothing like that. We're just in love and know we want to spend our lives together."

  Hannah felt a wave of relief wash over her, though she still had concerns about such a young couple getting engaged. However, she kept those thoughts to herself, simply nodding and offering Madison another congratulations before the girl left for her next class.

  The following day, Hannah decided to give a pop quiz to one of her other classes, curious to see how well they had retained the information from their recent lessons. To her amazement, nearly every student passed with flying colors. As she handed back the graded quizzes, she couldn't help but praise one particularly high-scoring girl.

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  "Excellent work, Jessica," Hannah said, smiling at the student. "With scores like these, any college would be lucky to have you."

  Jessica's expression fell slightly. "Oh, I'm not planning on going to college, Ms. Washington."

  Hannah blinked in surprise. "Really? But you're such a bright student. May I ask why?"

  Jessica shrugged. "I'm going to be a housewife. That's always been my plan."

  To Hannah's shock, several other girls in the class murmured in agreement. She scanned the room, trying to find at least one student who seemed to disagree. Her eyes landed on a girl in the back who was remaining quiet.

  "What about you, Emily?" Hannah asked. "Do you have plans for college?"

  Emily nodded hesitantly. "Yes, I'm planning on going..."

  Hannah felt a small surge of relief, but it was short-lived as Emily continued.

  "But I'm mostly going to get my 'Mrs.' degree, you know? Find a good husband and start a family."

  Hannah frowned, unsure how to respond to this unexpected turn. Before she could gather her thoughts, one of the Asian students in the front row spoke up.

  "No offense, Ms. Washington, but we don't want to end up a Christmas cake like you."

  The comment stung, though Hannah wasn't entirely sure what it meant. She managed to maintain her composure and finish the class, but the interaction left her feeling unsettled.

  During her lunch break, Hannah sought out one of the other teachers, Ms. Chen, who she knew had an Asian background.

  "Excuse me, Lisa," Hannah said as she approached the other woman in the teacher's lounge. "I was hoping you could help me understand something a student said earlier."

  Ms. Chen looked up from her salad. "Of course, what's up?"

  Hannah explained the 'Christmas cake' comment, watching as understanding dawned on Ms. Chen's face.

  "Ah, I see," Ms. Chen said, setting down her fork. "It's a term that originated in Japan. Basically, it refers to the idea that a woman over 25 is considered too old to get married."

  Hannah's brow furrowed. "But what does that have to do with cake?"

  Ms. Chen explained further. "In Japan, cake is a traditional Christmas gift. But after December 25th, nobody wants Christmas cake anymore. So, a 'Christmas cake' became slang for an unmarried woman over 25 – supposedly past her prime and undesirable."

  Hannah absorbed this information, feeling a mix of indignation and concern. She was well past 25 herself, and the idea that these young girls viewed that as some kind of expiration date for women was deeply troubling.

  "I can't believe they're thinking like this," Hannah muttered, more to herself than to Ms. Chen. "They're so young, with so much potential. Why are they limiting themselves this way?"

  Ms. Chen shrugged, looking a touch uncomfortable. "I've noticed it too. It's like there's been a shift in the school culture over the past year or so. More and more girls seem to be embracing traditional gender roles. It's... a little old fashioned but it really has improved the school."

  Hannah was jolted from her thoughts by the afternoon announcements blaring over the loudspeakers. As the principal's voice droned on about upcoming events and announcements, Hannah found herself struggling to recall what she and Ms. Chen had been discussing.

  She vaguely remembered something about traditional gender roles and girls limiting themselves, but the details were quickly slipping away. By the time the announcements ended, her train of thought had been utterly derailed.

  As she made her way to her next class, Hannah couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was something off about the student culture at Winslow. The attitudes and aspirations she had encountered seemed so regressive, so at odds with the progressive ideals she had always embraced.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur, and as Hannah packed up her things to leave, that one offhand comment continued to echo in her mind.

  "Christmas cake..."

  She knew, logically, that she shouldn't let the ignorant remark of a teenager get to her. And yet, it stung in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. Was she really so old and undesirable in the eyes of these young people?

  Hannah had never been one to obsess over her age or looks. As a Ward, and later as a member of the Protectorate, her focus had always been on her duty, on being a hero. But now, as an undercover agent posing as a teacher, she found herself hyper-aware of the generational gap between herself and her students.

  She thought back to her days in the Wards, when she had been partnered with Chevalier. They had been close, perhaps even flirted with the idea of something more, but their careers had ultimately taken precedence. Hannah had never really dated anyone seriously since then.

  Was she really still young, as she had always considered herself to be? Or had she somehow missed the window of opportunity, dooming herself to be forever seen as a "Christmas cake" by the younger generation?

  Hannah shook her head, trying to dislodge the insidious thought. She was being ridiculous, letting the words of a misguided teenager get to her. She was a respected hero, a valued member of the Protectorate. Her worth wasn't defined by her relationship status or by some outdated, misogynistic ideology.

  And yet, as she made her way out of the school and towards her temporary living quarters, Hannah couldn't help but feel a twinge of self-doubt. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to start putting a little more effort into her personal life.

  Taylor hurried out of Winslow, her excitement barely contained. Today wasn't just another day at her "internship" - it was the day everything would change. As she made her way to Medhall, her mind raced with anticipation.

  Entering her lab, Taylor had barely settled in when there was a knock at the door. Max Anders stood there, a rare hint of eagerness in his eyes.

  "Come with me," he said. "We're watching from the security room."

  Taylor nodded, following him down the hallway. As they entered the security room, she was surprised to see Brad lounging in a chair, dressed in a security guard uniform and munching on a bowl of popcorn.

  Max's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

  Brad shrugged, not bothering to stand. "You won't let me be on standby, so I figured I'd enjoy the show. This is gonna be good."

  Max looked like he wanted to argue, but instead just sighed and turned to the bank of monitors. Taylor's eyes widened as she realized they weren't showing the usual Medhall security feeds. Instead, each screen displayed bodycam footage from various Empire foot soldiers. They were gearing up, checking weapons and equipment with a level of professionalism that made Taylor's chest swell with pride.

  "Krieg and Alabaster are officially in charge," Max explained, "but this is the real test of your tech, Taylor. Every non-cape has undergone multiple sessions in your pods. Their skills should equal or even exceed special forces at this point."

  Taylor nodded, her eyes flicking from screen to screen. She paid special attention to a handful of soldiers who seemed to move with an almost inhuman grace. Those were the ones who had used her newest, most experimental pod - the results of her… collaboration.

  The door opened again, and Theo slipped in. He moved to Taylor's side, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. This was a big step for both of them, the culmination of months of work and planning.

  "Too many Empire members are following the Deer Lodge example," Brad grumbled around a mouthful of popcorn. "It's gonna limit our operations with the reduced number of capes."

  Max waved a hand dismissively. "We can bring in more if needed. Speaking of which," he turned to Brad, "I hear you're considering joining the Lodge yourself."

  Brad shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yeah, well... Nessa's been making some pretty pointed statements lately. Keeps talking about rings and I think she is expecting one sooner rather then later."

  Taylor couldn't help but smile at that. She'd grown fond of Theo's older sister figure over the past few months. Nessa always had the best stories about Theo's childhood. Then Taylor frowned, realizing she actually hadn't had any sessions with Menja. They'd done some cooking lessons together, but those hadn't involved her tech at all.

  As Taylor pondered this, she felt a different swell of pride. One not in her own accomplishments but in confirming her worldview. Sure, she might have had to nudge some people in the right direction, but wasn't this the natural order of things? Once people saw the benefits, they moved towards it on their own, even without conditioning or assigned roles. It was good to see the proper order asserting itself.

  On the main screen, Krieg's face appeared. "We're in position, Kaiser. Awaiting your go-ahead."

  Max leaned forward, his voice firm and commanding. "You have a green light. Commence the operation."

  The screens exploded into action. Empire soldiers moved with coordinated precision, converging on what Taylor knew to be the Merchants' main hideout. Months of intelligence gathering and careful planning had led to this moment.

  "Look at them go," Brad said, leaning forward with genuine interest. "I gotta admit, Taylor, your tech has made a hell of a difference. These guys move like pros."

  Taylor beamed at the praise, her eyes fixed on the screens. She watched as the first team breached the perimeter of the Merchants' compound. Their movements were fluid, each soldier perfectly in sync with their teammates. It was like watching a well-oiled machine.

  "Team Alpha, in position," came a voice over the comms. "No resistance so far."

  "Team Beta, approaching from the east," another reported. "We've got eyes on two sentries. Taking them out now."

  Taylor held her breath as she watched the takedown. It was quick, efficient, and most importantly, non-lethal. The Empire soldiers used their enhanced skills and the non-lethal weapons to subdue the Merchants without unnecessary violence.

  "Excellent work," Max murmured, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "This is precisely what we needed to show the city. Precision, control, and minimal collateral damage."

  Through the communications link, Krieg announced, "Moving in to penetrate their central stronghold."

  Mush never thought he'd be thankful for an Endbringer attack, but here he was. The lull after Canberra had brought precious time. The Merchants would soon be ready to take center stage in Brockton Bay.

  He leaned back in his chair, a rare moment of quiet reflection. The past few months had been a whirlwind of activity - consolidating power, expanding operations, and most importantly, reshaping the Merchants into something... more. They weren't just some ragtag group of junkies anymore. No, Mush had grander visions.

  The Simurgh's attack had been a blessing in disguise. While the city's heroes and even some villains rushed off to Australia, the Merchants had time to lick their wounds and prepare. Squealer was back in fighting form, her vehicles more impressive than ever. The rank and file were getting organized, thanks in no small part to those study guides they'd acquired.

  Mush allowed himself a small smile. Their operations were running smoother, profits were up, and they were expanding into new territories with minimal resistance. All thanks to some tinker-tech paper and a little chemical enhancement.

  His thoughts drifted to the bigger picture. The landscape of Brockton Bay was shifting. The ABB was all but gone, reduced to scattered groups of street thugs without Lung's iron fist to keep them in line. The Empire was... evolving. This new "Deer Lodge" nonsense was an interesting development. Mush wasn't sure if it was brilliant or idiotic, but it opened up opportunities either way.

  Through the grimy window of his office, Mush could see Skidmark holding court in the warehouse below. The self-proclaimed "Dragonslayer" was shouting some nonsense to a group of wide-eyed recruits. Mush suppressed a sigh. Adam had been useful, no doubt about it. His vulgar charisma had drawn in countless desperate souls looking for escape, for belonging. But now...

  Mush considered, not for the first time, that Skidmark had outlived his usefulness. The man was a liability now. Unpredictable, prone to violent outbursts, and far too fond of sampling the merchandise. Most of the other capes and lieutenants reported directly to Mush these days anyway. The transition of power was already happening, whether Skidmark realized it or not.

  Still, it wouldn't do to be too obvious about it. There would be pushback, questions. Best to let nature take its course. Overdoses happened all the time in their line of work, after all. A tragic accident, nothing more.

  Sherrel would be upset, of course. She and Adam had history. But she'd get over it. Mush's eyes drifted to where Squealer was tinkering with one of her monstrous vehicles. Scapegoat's healing had done wonders for her. Gone was the strung-out mess she'd been before. Now she practically glowed with vitality.

  Mush allowed himself to imagine comforting her after the "accident." Being a shoulder to cry on, a strong presence to lean on in her time of grief. He smiled at the possibilities. Sherrel had always been a looker, but now? She was radiant. Wasted on a lowlife like Skidmark.

  Shaking off such pleasant daydreams, Mush forced himself to focus on the near future. They needed to make a show of force soon, remind the city that the Merchants were back in action. After that... well, there were some interesting possibilities.

  He'd been considering some back-channel discussions with both the Empire and the PRT. The Empire was clearly trying to clean up their image with this Deer Lodge business. They'd want to distance themselves from the seedier aspects of criminal enterprise. That left an opening.

  The Merchants could fill that role nicely. There would always be a market that needed serving, after all. They could be the designated villains of the Bay. Plenty of junkies for the PRT to round up, show the taxpayers they were earning their keep. Maybe even set up a gentleman's agreement with the Protectorate. Keep the violence down, make sure the right people got caught.

  Between the Empire and the Merchants, they could squeeze Coil out of the picture entirely. Let the E88 have their "Aryan paradise" or whatever bullshit they were peddling these days. The Merchants would handle all the areas they didn't want to touch. It was a win-win situation.

  Mush leaned back, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. Yes, the future was looking simply... perfect.

  So of course, that was when the shouting started.

  Hannah Washington, known to most as Miss Militia, glanced at the clock on the classroom wall. Thankful for her free period, she hurried to the principal's office. With a quick explanation about a family emergency, she was out the door.

  As she strode through the halls of Winslow High, her mind raced. The Empire was making a bold move against the Merchants, and she needed to be there. Mr. Gladly had graciously offered to cover her last class. She felt a twinge of guilt - he seemed like a decent guy, even if he did have some nebulous connection to the Empire. Probably just an unwitting pawn in their games.

  She'd only spoken to Gladly a handful of times since starting her undercover assignment. Once, a woman with a raspy voice had practically attached herself to his side, glaring daggers at Hannah. The possessiveness had been almost comical. Hannah had wanted to tell her to relax - she had no designs on Gladly or any other taken man.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, Hannah burst through the school's front doors. Her motorcycle waited in the parking lot, a sleek machine that could get her to the safe house in minutes. She swung her leg over the seat, peeling out out of the parking lot, narrowly missing a van entering. Glancing back, she saw the van careening into the lot, a scrawny guy shaking his fist at her while his burlier companion tried to calm him down.

  A pang of regret hit her - she shouldn't have been so reckless. But there was no time to dwell on it now. She had to get to the safe house a few blocks over, change into her costume, and rendezvous with the rest of the Protectorate.

  The wind whipped past as Hannah weaved through traffic. Her mind was already shifting gears, moving from her role as a substitute teacher to that of a seasoned hero. The Empire's attack on the Merchants was a significant escalation.

  She pulled into an alley behind a nondescript building. A quick glance around confirmed no one was watching as she dismounted and punched in the access code. The door slid open silently, revealing a small, utilitarian space.

  Hannah moved with practiced efficiency. Civilian clothes were shed, replaced by her iconic costume. She checked her weapons, more out of habit than necessity. Her power ensured she was never truly unarmed.

  As she prepared to head out, her comm unit crackled to life. Armsmaster's voice came through, terse and focused: "Miss Militia, what's your ETA?"

  "Five minutes out."

  "Make it three." Hannah heard a sound in the background of the call she knew too well. Was that a rocket launcher?

  Adam Mustain bellowed, his eyes inflamed. Did these goose-stepping Empire shitstains not know who they were fucking dealing with? He was the dragon-slaying, motherfucking Skidmark. The layers of his momentum fields repelled the rubber projectiles the thugs hurled his direction. His befuddled mind gradually grasped the situation was not going well. Burnout had already fallen, restrained face-down with zip ties. The girl had balked at unleashing her napalm breath against people. Idiotic bitch. Nazis weren't people.

  Mush and Trainwreck could shrug off the rubber bullets, but the soldiers confronting them seamlessly switched cartridges for more impactful munitions. Trainwreck soon had rents in his metallic appendages, and Mush suffered minor wounds. Whirligig's telekinetic vortex deflected shots like his fields, but they were already compensating, and within moments, Whirligig also fell.

  A bullet whizzed past his own ear. The bastards were compensating for his fields too. A crash shook the room as the Bookmobile partially caved in a wall by ramming it. Some merchants were struck by the rubble, but the Empire members possessed incredible reflexes and leaped clear.

  "Skids we gotta get out of here!" Squealer cried out from the cockpit set into the monstrosity of a library-mobile.

  'What the hell was his personal cumrag saying?!' Run like a cur with tail between his legs from Nazis? Hell no. He dove into the garage and made a bee-line for the Think Tank. Bust into his house would they? Well there was a toll for that and Skidmark intended to take it out of their hides. He hopped into the treaded vehicle and started it up, putting on a helmet that connected him to it. He took a hit of the good stuff. Now these fourth Reich wannabees were going to see the world through his eyes. He laughed.

  The Think Tank hummed to life around him, a cacophony of lights and sounds assaulting his already drug-addled senses. Skidmark grinned maniacally as he felt the machine's systems integrating with his own twisted perceptions. This was his personal ride, a vehicle designed to amplify his power and spread his unique brand of chaos.

  "You Nazi fucks want a piece of me?" he bellowed, his voice distorted through the Think Tank's speakers. "Come get some!"

  The vehicle lurched forward, crashing through the remaining walls of the garage. Empire soldiers scattered, their well-drilled formations breaking in the face of this new threat. Skidmark cackled as he saw fear replace the cold determination in their eyes.

  The Think Tank burst through the crumbling garage wall, a nightmarish amalgamation of steel and madness. Skidmark's drug-addled perceptions poured out of the vehicle in waves, warping reality for everyone in the vicinity. Empire soldiers staggered, their well-honed reflexes suddenly useless as the ground seemed to undulate beneath their feet and colors bled together in nauseating swirls.

  "Fuck yeah!" Skidmark cackled, his voice distorted through the Tank's speakers. "How you like me now, you goose-stepping shitstains?"

  The disorientation spread indiscriminately, affecting friend and foe alike. Mush stumbled, his carefully gathered detritus falling away as he struggled to maintain his form. Trainwreck's mechanical limbs jerked erratically, servos grinding as they tried to compensate for phantom movements.

  "Skids!" Squealer's voice crackled through the comms. "You gotta focus the broadcast! You're messing up our own people!"

  But Skidmark was beyond reason, lost in a haze of drugs and power. He yanked on the controls, sending the Think Tank careening through the battlefield. Empire soldiers dove for cover, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

  "Can't stop the Skidmark express, motherfuckers!" he howled, narrowly missing a group of his own Merchants who were retching on the ground.

  Through the kaleidoscopic chaos of his vision, Skidmark spotted a figure in white – Alabaster. The Nazi cape stood out like a beacon, his pristine form reset every few seconds, momentarily immune to the disorienting effects.

  "Got you now, bleach boy," Skidmark snarled, swinging the Think Tank's main turret around.

  He poured his power into the makeshift cannon, layering fields of momentum inside the barrel. With a thunderous crack, a stream of ball bearings erupted from the tube, accelerated to terrifying velocities.

  Alabaster didn't even have time to scream before the makeshift projectiles tore through him. His body shredded into a red mist, chunks of flesh and bone scattering across the pavement. But true to his power, four seconds later he stood whole again, clothes immaculate but eyes wide with shock.

  "Round two, bitch!" Skidmark yelled, gunning the Think Tank's engine.

  The massive vehicle surged forward, tires squealing. Alabaster tried to dive clear, but his movements were sluggish, still affected by the disorienting broadcast. The Think Tank slammed into him with a sickening crunch, leaving a streak of red across the pavement.

  Skidmark's maniacal laughter filled the air as he spun the tank around, searching for his next target. Through the haze, he spotted Krieg, the Nazi's hand outstretched as he used his power to deflect debris and errant gunfire.

  "Time to make some Nazi paste!" Skidmark growled, aiming the turret at Krieg.

  He fired another salvo of accelerated ball bearings, but Krieg's telekinetic field bent their trajectory. The projectiles whizzed harmlessly past, embedding themselves in a nearby building.

  "Fuck you and your Force bullshit!" Skidmark snarled, revving the Think Tank's engine. "Let's see how you like a face full of bumper!"

  He stomped on the accelerator, aiming the massive vehicle directly at Krieg. The Nazi cape's eyes widened as several tons of steel and madness barreled towards him.

  But Skidmark had tunnel vision, focused solely on turning Krieg into roadkill. He never saw the rocket streaking down from a nearby rooftop.

  The explosion rocked the Think Tank, shredding one of its treads. Skidmark was thrown against the controls, his head smacking painfully against the metal. The vehicle lurched, spinning out of control as sparks flew from the damaged tread.

  "What the fuck?!" he screamed, desperately trying to regain control.

  A second rocket slammed into the Think Tank's side, the impact amplified by Krieg's power. The vehicle flipped, tumbling end over end before crashing onto its roof. Inside the cockpit, Skidmark hung upside down, dazed and bleeding from a gash on his forehead.

  The disorienting broadcast cut out abruptly, leaving an eerie silence broken only by the sound of scattered gunfire and the groans of the injured. Empire soldiers began to regroup, their movements becoming more coordinated as the effects wore off.

  Skidmark fumbled with his harness, his drug-addled brain struggling to process what had just happened. He could hear shouting outside, the sound of boots approaching the downed Think Tank.

  "Squealer!" he yelled into the comms. "Get your ass over here and bust me out!"

  But there was no response. The Bookmobile was being swarmed over, Squealer being dragged out. Skidmark was on his own.

  Outside, Krieg's voice rang out. "Secure the vehicle! I want that degenerate brought out alive!"

  Skidmark's eyes darted around the cockpit, searching for a way out. But the hatch was jammed, and the disorientation from the crash and his drug use left him unable to focus his power effectively.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, panic rising in his chest.

  The sound of metal groaning filled the air as Empire soldiers began to pry open the Think Tank's hull. Skidmark could see their boots through the cracked viewscreen, drawing closer with each passing second.

  "You want me?" he screamed, more to psych himself up than anything else. "Come and fucking get me, you Nazi pricks!"

  But even as he shouted his defiance, Skidmark knew the battle was lost. The Think Tank, his ultimate weapon, lay in ruins around him. His fellow Merchants were scattered or captured. And now, trapped and alone, he faced the wrath of the Empire.

  The hatch above him creaked open, letting in a shaft of light. Skidmark squinted, trying to make out the figures silhouetted against the sky. He saw the barrel of a gun pointed directly at his face.

  "Skidmark," Krieg's accented voice rang out. "Your reign of filth ends today."

  Skidmark spat, a glob of blood and saliva landing on the Nazi cape's boot. "Fuck you," he snarled. "I'm the motherfucking dragon slayer. You can't—"

  His words were cut off as a rubber bullet slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. As he gasped for air, rough hands grabbed him, dragging him out of the wreckage of the Think Tank.

  Skidmark found himself face down on the pavement, his arms wrenched behind his back as zip ties bit into his wrists. He tried to gather his power, to create a field that would send these fascist fucks flying, but his concentration was shot.

  "Secure him properly," Krieg ordered. "We don't want any surprises when we present him to Kaiser."

  As Skidmark was hauled to his feet, he got his first clear look at the battlefield. The Merchant compound was in ruins, smoke rising from several buildings. Bodies littered the ground – mostly his own people, he realized with a sinking feeling.

  The Empire soldiers efficiently zip-tied and secured their captives. Skidmark continued hurling obscenities while Squealer remained oddly quiet, her eyes darting between her boyfriend and the wreckage of her vehicles. Whirligig struggled weakly against her restraints while Burnout had already given up, tears streaming down her face.

  "Sir, Mush and Trainwreck managed to slip away through the sewers," one of the soldiers reported to Krieg. "Should we pursue?"

  Krieg shook his head. "No. They're likely long gone by now. Besides, without their leadership and infrastructure, they're no real threat."

  He surveyed the captured Merchant capes with disdain. Skidmark had finally exhausted himself, slumping in his captors' grip. The Think Tank and Bookmobile lay in ruins, smoking hulks of twisted metal that would never run again.

  Krieg chuckled, a cold sound devoid of humor. "Your little gang is finished, Herr Skidmark. Those who weren't captured have fled like the cowards they are."

  Skidmark's mind raced, trying to process what had happened. How had it all gone so wrong? They were supposed to be on top, ready to carve out their place in the new Brockton Bay. Now...

  "Load him up," Krieg ordered, gesturing to a waiting van. "Kaiser will want to deal with this personally."

  As the Empire soldiers dragged him towards the vehicle, Skidmark caught sight of Alabaster. The white-clad cape was whole again, but his eyes burned with hatred as he stared at Skidmark.

  "You're gonna pay for what you did," Alabaster snarled. "I'm gonna make sure you feel every second of pain before we're done with you."

  Skidmark tried to summon up some of his usual bravado, but the words died in his throat. The reality of his situation was finally sinking in, cutting through even his drug-induced haze.

  He was thrown roughly into the back of the van, landing in a heap on the metal floor. The doors slammed shut, plunging him into darkness. As the engine roared to life, Skidmark felt a cold sweat break out across his skin.

  For the first time in years, Adam Mustain felt truly, deeply afraid.

  Brad munched on a handful of popcorn, his eyes glued to the security monitors displaying the Empire's raid on the Merchant compound. "This beats the hell out of The Young and the Restless," he said with a grin.

  Taylor, who had been intently watching the operation unfold, glanced at Brad with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't realize you were such a fan of daytime television. Though I suppose it's not as dramatic as Chloe's evil twin revealing herself at the charity gala last week."

  Brad's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? I thought for sure it was going to be Jack who—" He cut himself off abruptly, realizing what he'd just said. At the bemused looks from Theo and Max, Hookwolf shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "What? Nessa got me hooked on it. A man's allowed to have his guilty pleasures."

  Max opened his mouth as if to comment, then shook his head and decided against it. "Moving on," he said, redirecting their attention to the monitors. "This is a great victory for us. With the ABB effectively disbanded and now the Merchants crushed, only Coil remains as a significant criminal power within the Bay."

  Brad nodded in agreement but added, "Don't forget about those Undersider punks. That Hellhound bitch hit one of my rings just last week."

  Taylor's eyes narrowed, and she turned to face Hookwolf. Her voice was calm but carried a sharp edge as she spoke. "Excuse me, Mr. Meadows, but I was under the impression that you had agreed to shut down those deplorable dog fighting operations. Was I mistaken?"

  Hookwolf held up his hands defensively. "I am shutting them down, I swear! But it's not like I can just snap my fingers and make it happen overnight. You forbade me from, well, dealing with the dogs in the usual way. So where am I supposed to put them? These aren't fluffy little lapdogs – they're trained killers."

  Taylor's brow furrowed as she considered the problem. "I suppose I hadn't fully considered the logistics involved," she admitted. "Perhaps we could utilize some of my tech to pacify the animals? A modified version of the calming fields might work, or even a more targeted application of the role-assignment pods..." She trailed off, muttering to herself as she began to work through potential solutions.

  Max cleared his throat, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. "The Undersiders are a minor nuisance at best – thieves and opportunists. They'll be dealt with in due time, especially after their ill-advised attempt to infiltrate Medhall. For now, let's focus on our current success."

  Taylor watched the monitors as another group of Empire soldiers efficiently subdued a cluster of Merchant defenders. Their movements were precise, coordinated - beautiful, really. Like a well-choreographed dance. Her tech had elevated them far beyond common thugs into something approaching military precision.

  A small voice in the back of her mind tried to whisper that this wasn't right, that she was going too far. That voice questioned whether anyone should have this much power to reshape others. But those doubts dissolved like morning mist as her self-imposed conditioning kicked in. Of course this was right. She was helping create order from chaos, civilization from barbarism. The proper roles being filled by those best suited to them.

  Her smile grew wider as she watched a female Empire soldier efficiently zip-tie a struggling Merchant while reciting his rights. Even in combat, they maintained proper decorum. Everything was proceeding exactly as it should.

  The door burst open, causing Taylor to jump slightly. Alfred rushed in, his normally composed demeanor clearly rattled. "Sir, we have a situation that requires immediate attention," he said, addressing Kaiser directly but glancing meaningfully at Taylor.

  "What is it?" Max asked, turning away from the monitors.

  "There's been some concerning activity reported around Winslow High School," Alfred began, his words careful and measured despite his obvious urgency.

  Mush slammed his fist against the wall of the safehouse, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the plaster. His entire body trembled with rage, bits of debris falling from his form as he struggled to maintain coherence.

  "Everything," he snarled. "Everything we built, gone in a single fucking day!"

  Trainwreck stood silently nearby, his mechanical body creaking as he shifted uncomfortably. He'd never seen Mush this angry before.

  "How?" Mush continued, pacing furiously. "How did those Nazi fucks pull this off? Their soldiers moved like goddamn special forces! They barely brought any capes at all."

  His mind raced, piecing together the fragments. The Empire's sudden increase in effectiveness, the way their regular troops had outmaneuvered even the Merchant capes...

  "Miss Stepford," he growled, eyes narrowing. "That bitch must have enhanced them somehow. Far beyond anything she ever gave us."

  Mush's fists clenched, garbage and debris swirling around him as his power responded to his fury. "I'll make her pay," he hissed. "I'll chain that cunt in my basement and force her to churn out tinkertech for me. We'll rebuild, bigger and stronger than before. Then we'll crush the Empire and—"

  He was interrupted by Trainwreck thrusting a cell phone towards him. Mush blinked, momentarily thrown off his rant.

  "What?" he snapped, glaring at his subordinate.

  Trainwreck simply shook his head and gestured insistently with the phone. Confused and irritated, Mush snatched it from the tinker's mechanical hand.

  "Who the fuck is this?" he demanded.

  A smooth, cultured voice answered: "Mr. Mush. I am Coil, and I believe you and I need to come to an arrangement."

  Mush's eyes widened in surprise. He'd heard of Coil, of course – the mysterious crime lord who'd been steadily building power in the shadows of Brockton Bay. But for him to reach out now, of all times...

  "I'm listening," Mush said cautiously, his mind already racing with possibilities.

  Uber adjusted his headset as Leet fiddled with the camera. They were crouched behind some bushes near the entrance to Winslow High School, preparing for their latest streaming event.

  "We're live in 3...2...1..." Leet whispered, giving a thumbs up.

  Uber grinned at the camera. "Welcome, loyal viewers, to our most ambitious stream yet! Today, we're bringing the world of dating sims to life right here at Winslow High!"

  Leet panned the camera to show three girls standing near the school entrance - Emma, Sophia, and Madison. They were posed unnaturally, staring blankly ahead.

  "Our lovely 'dateable characters' are ready and waiting," Uber continued. "Using some... borrowed tech, we've set up the perfect scenario. Now it's time for you, our audience, to choose which lovely lady I'll be pursuing!"

  He gestured dramatically. "Will it be the fiery redhead? The athletic beauty? Or the cute bookworm? The choice is yours!"

  Leet zoomed in on each girl as Uber described them. Their eyes remained unfocused, clearly under some form of control.

  "Place your votes now in the chat," Uber said with a wink. "And remember - in the world of dating sims, there's always a happy ending if you play your cards right!"