Chapter Text
Madison hugged her jacket tighter against the salt-tinged wind cutting across the docks. The skeletal remains of cranes loomed like prehistoric beasts against the starless sky, their shadows stretching across abandoned shipping containers stacked like metallic building blocks.
"This is monumentally stupid," she muttered, stepping carefully around a puddle that reflected the distant glow of downtown Brockton Bay.
Emma's red hair caught the moonlight as she turned back with that familiar superior smile. "Scared, Mads?"
"Smart. There's a difference."
Sophia snorted, her athletic frame moving with predatory confidence through the industrial wasteland. "We confirmed Taylor was home doing homework with daddy dearest. This is just reconnaissance."
Madison's stomach churned. The notebook they'd lifted from Taylor's locker sat heavy in Emma's backpack—page after page of incomprehensible equations and diagrams that looked like they belonged in a graduate-level physics textbook, not the bag of some nobody sophomore.
"Even if she is a tinker," Madison said, side-stepping a coil of rusted chain, "breaking into her lab is basically suicide. Tinkers booby-trap everything."
"We're not breaking in," Emma said, pulling out her phone's flashlight as they approached the decrepit union building. "We're just confirming the location. Then we tip off the PRT with an anonymous call about suspicious tinker activity."
The Dockworkers Association building squatted like a concrete toad, its windows boarded up and covered in layers of graffiti. Years of salt air had stained the walls with rust streaks that looked disturbingly like dried blood in the pale light.
Madison watched Sophia examine the heavy metal door. "How do we even know this is the right place?"
"Process of elimination," Emma said, consulting something on her phone. "We've been tracking her movements after school for weeks. She disappears for hours, always in this general area, then shows up at home right before dinner like nothing happened."
Sophia grinned, producing a crowbar from her backpack. "And daddy thinks his little princess is at the library."
The door shrieked in protest as Sophia pried it open, the sound echoing off the empty containers around them. Madison flinched, half-expecting security guards or worse to come running.
Nothing.
"Not breaking in… right." Madison muttered.
The interior smelled of mildew and decades of neglect. Their phones' flashlight beams cut through darkness thick enough to choke on, revealing overturned chairs and filing cabinets with drawers hanging open like gaping mouths.
"Lovely," Madison said, playing her light across water stains that had formed abstract patterns on the ceiling. "Very atmospheric. I'm sure nothing horrible has ever happened here."
Emma moved deeper into the building, her beam sweeping methodically. "Stop being such a drama queen."
Madison bit back her response. Drama queen? She wasn't the one obsessed with proving Taylor Hebert was some secret villain. This whole vendetta had consumed Emma for months now, driven to new heights ever since that notebook had revealed equations that belonged in a university textbook.
Why couldn't Taylor have just... adapted? Found some loser friends to hang out with, joined the computer club or something equally pathetic, created some social buffer between herself and Emma's attention. Instead, she just took it. Day after day, month after month, like some kind of martyr complex.
Madison's flashlight beam swept across the far wall and stopped. "Guys."
The freight elevator stood against the back wall, its cage door slightly ajar. New cables snaked down from the ceiling, bypassing the building's dead electrical system and connecting to what looked like a car battery.
"Someone's been busy," Sophia said, approaching the elevator with the fearless stride that made Madison simultaneously admire and worry about her friend's survival instincts.
Emma's eyes lit up. "This has to be it. No one jury-rigs elevator power unless they're hiding something important."
Madison stared at the improvised electrical work. Whoever had done this knew what they were doing—the connections were clean, professional-looking. "Okay, we found evidence of tinker activity. Can we go now?"
"Not enough," Emma said, already moving toward the elevator. "We need proof she's building something dangerous."
"The fact that she's operating out of an abandoned building isn't suspicious enough?"
Sophia pulled the cage door open with a grinding shriek of metal. "Don't be a coward, Mads. We're just going to take a quick look."
Madison followed them into the elevator, her skin crawling as the cage door clanged shut. The platform swayed slightly under their combined weight, and she gripped the safety rail with white knuckles.
Emma pressed the down button. The elevator lurched, then began its descent with mechanical groaning that echoed in the shaft like the death rattle of some enormous beast.
"How deep does this go?" Madison whispered.
"Deeper than it should," Emma said, watching floor indicators that had been painted over years ago. "The building's only supposed to have a basement level."
The elevator shuddered to a stop, and Sophia yanked the door open to reveal a brick-lined corridor stretching beyond their flashlight beams. Electric bulbs hung from exposed wiring along the ceiling, currently dark but obviously functional.
Madison stepped out onto rough concrete, her sneakers crunching on scattered debris. "This isn't just a basement."
"Tunnels," Emma said, her voice carrying an excited edge. "During Prohibition, the dockworkers ran liquor through a whole network under the docks. Dad mentioned it once—said the city sealed most of them in the eighties."
Sophia played her light along the walls, revealing brickwork that belonged to another era. "Someone unsealed this section."
Madison hugged herself, fighting the urge to demand they leave immediately. The air down here felt wrong—too thick, too warm, carrying scents she couldn't identify but didn't want to. Her imagination painted pictures of what might be lurking in the darkness beyond their feeble lights.
A sound echoed from somewhere ahead—a rhythmic tapping like metal on stone.
"Did you hear that?" Madison whispered.
Emma and Sophia had already started down the main corridor, their voices bouncing off brick walls as they speculated about what Taylor might be building. Madison hurried to catch up, unwilling to be left alone in the elevator.
The tunnel branched in multiple directions, creating a maze that seemed to extend far beyond what should fit under the docks. Working lights hung at irregular intervals, their dark bulbs suggesting someone had wired the entire network with power that currently wasn't running.
"This is extensive," Emma said, consulting her phone again. "We could be walking under half the shipping district."
Madison caught movement in her peripheral vision—something large and dark shifting in the shadows beyond an intersection. She spun, flashlight beam cutting through empty air.
"What?" Sophia demanded.
"I thought I saw..." Madison swept her light back and forth. Nothing. Just brick walls and scattered refuse. "Never mind."
"Don't be such a scaredy-cat," Sophia said, but her voice carried an edge that suggested she'd felt it too—that sense of being watched from the darkness.
Emma turned back to them, her expression bright with the thrill of discovery. "We should split up. Cover more ground, look for her actual workspace."
Madison stared at her. "Split up."
"Yeah, these tunnels branch everywhere. We could spend hours walking in circles."
"You want three teenage girls to split up in creepy underground smuggler tunnels where a potentially dangerous tinker might be conducting experiments."
Emma rolled her eyes. "We're not in a horror movie, Mads."
"Really? Because this feels exactly like the setup to every horror movie ever made." Madison gestured around them. "Isolated location, check. No cell service, check. Ancient tunnels with dubious history, check. Unknown dangerous individual somewhere in the vicinity, check."
Sophia stepped forward, her athletic frame radiating impatience. "Shut up and just do it. We'll cover three times as much ground."
"Fine," Madison said, her voice flat with resignation. "But when we all die horribly, I'm going to spend eternity saying I told you so."
Emma pointed down the main corridor. "I'll take the central route. Sophia, you take the left branch. Madison—"
"I get the right branch. Of course." Madison sighed, already composing her last will and testament. "If I'm not back in twenty minutes, assume I've been murdered and call the police."
"Don't be so dramatic," Emma said, but her voice echo strangely in the enclosed space, making her sound farther away than she actually was.
Sophia had already disappeared down her chosen tunnel, her flashlight beam bouncing off distant walls. Emma headed into the main corridor, leaving Madison alone at the intersection.
Madison looked down her assigned tunnel—a narrow brick-lined passage that seemed to stretch forever into darkness. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped with metronomic persistence.
"This is how people die in movies," she muttered, but started walking anyway.
Her footsteps echoed strangely off the walls, creating rhythm patterns that seemed almost deliberate. The working lights overhead stayed dark, forcing her to rely on her phone's flashlight and pray the battery lasted.
The tunnel curved gradually to the right, then opened into a wider space that might once have been a storage chamber. Empty wooden crates sat stacked against the walls, their surfaces bearing shipping labels too faded to read.
Madison swept her light around the room, looking for any sign of recent activity. The dust patterns on the floor showed footprints—recent ones, leading deeper into the tunnel network.
She followed them reluctantly, each step taking her farther from the elevator and her escape route. The tunnel began to slope downward, and she realized with growing unease that she must be going deeper underground than should be possible.
Her phone buzz with a text message that made her jump. No signal bars, but the message had somehow gotten through—probably bounced off a cell tower somewhere above.
Emma: Found something. Metal workshop setup. Definitely tinker work.
Madison typed back quickly: Coming back. This is far enough.
No reply. Her message sat with a single gray checkmark—sent but not delivered.
She turned to retrace her steps and froze. Her flashlight beam illuminated the wall where she'd entered the chamber, but the tunnel opening wasn't there anymore.
Solid brick wall, unbroken and ancient-looking, as if no passage had ever existed.
Madison spun in a circle, playing her light across every surface. Four walls, no exits except the tunnel that continued deeper into the darkness.
"No," she whispered, then louder: "No, no, no."
She pressed her hands against the wall where the tunnel had been. Solid brick, cool to the touch, with mortar lines that looked decades old. Her fingers found no hidden switches, no concealed mechanisms.
The tunnel behind her stretched into blackness, offering the only way forward.
Madison tapped at her phone, hands shaking as she tried to call Emma. No signal. She tried Sophia. Nothing.
A sound echoed from somewhere ahead—machinery starting up, electric motors humming to life. The working lights in the chamber suddenly blazed to life, flooding the space with harsh illumination that made her phone's flashlight seem pathetic by comparison.
The lights continued activating in sequence down the tunnel ahead, creating a path of illumination that beckoned her forward into the depths.
Madison looked back at the impossible solid wall one more time, then at the tunnel that offered her only choice.
"Taylor Herbert," she whispered, "when I get out of this, I am going to kill you myself."
She started walking deeper into the tunnels, following the lit path and trying not to think about why the lights had suddenly decided to guide her somewhere specific.
***
Emma's phone camera clicked repeatedly as she documented the workshop, each flash illuminating another piece of evidence. A complex array of electronic components spread across multiple workbenches, circuit boards with configurations she'd never seen before, and tools that looked like they belonged in a sci-fi movie rather than some abandoned dock building.
"Gotcha, Taylor," she whispered, snapping another photo of what appeared to be some kind of energy cell. "Let's see you explain this away."
The workshop was well-lit and stretched larger than she'd initially realized, with multiple work stations arranged in a rough U-shape around the central space. Each station seemed dedicated to different projects—one focused on electronics, another on what looked like biological samples in sealed containers, and a third that held mechanical components she couldn't begin to identify.
Emma moved methodically through the space, documenting everything. This was exactly what they needed—concrete proof that Taylor Hebert had triggered into a tinker. The notebooks they'd stolen had been suspicious, but this workshop sealed the deal. Taylor wasn't just some pathetic victim anymore; she was a cape hiding in plain sight.
The irony wasn't lost on Emma. All those months of pushing Taylor, of making her life hell, and the whole time she'd been sitting on powers that could have changed everything. Typical Taylor—too weak and stupid to even use what she'd been given properly.
Emma paused at a workstation covered in biological samples. Glass containers held what looked like tissue samples suspended in clear fluid, each labeled with codes she couldn't decipher. Some of the samples seemed to pulse with their own internal light, casting weird shadows across the surrounding equipment.
"Definitely villain territory," she muttered, snapping photos of the entire setup. "Heroes don't usually go in for the mad scientist aesthetic."
A bank of monitors dominated one wall, all currently dark but showing signs of recent use. She tried activating them but found them password protected. No matter—the photos would be enough to bring the Protectorate down on Taylor's head.
Emma moved to the next station, where mechanical components were arranged in precise patterns. Some of the devices looked almost organic, with curved surfaces that reminded her uncomfortably of bone or chitin. She photographed everything, making sure to capture the strange hybrid nature of the technology.
The workshop had clearly been in use recently. No dust on the equipment, fresh coffee stains on one workbench, and the lingering scent of solder and electrical components. Taylor had been here within the last day or two, probably working on whatever villainous scheme she was planning.
As Emma documented the last workstation, she found herself grinning. This was perfect. Better than perfect. Not only would they expose Taylor as a tinker, but they'd be able to paint her as a clear threat to the city. The biological samples alone would be enough to raise serious questions about her intentions.
She was going to send another quick update to Sophia and Madison, but found no signal bars. The underground location must be interfering with cell coverage. No matter—they'd regroup at the elevator and she'd share everything then.
Emma turned back toward the workshop entrance, planning to retrace her steps, when every light in the space suddenly died.
Darkness slammed down like a physical weight, so complete that she couldn't see her own hands in front of her face. The sudden transition from bright fluorescent lighting to absolute blackness left her blinking uselessly, her eyes struggling to adjust.
"Madison!" she called out, her voice echoing strangely in the enclosed space. "Very funny! Turn the lights back on!"
Silence answered her, broken only by the distant hum of electrical equipment that must be running on backup power. Emma fumbled for her phone, the screen's glow providing a small circle of blue-white illumination in the oppressive darkness.
She tried calling Madison first, then Sophia. Both calls failed to connect, the phone showing no signal at all now. The lack of connection sent the first real spike of unease through her chest, but she pushed it aside. This was just Madison being dramatic, trying to prove some point about horror movie scenarios.
"This isn't funny!" she shouted into the darkness. "I got everything we need! Taylor's definitely a tinker!"
Something metallic rattled somewhere across the workshop, the sound sharp and deliberate in the silence. Emma spun toward it, her phone's flashlight app casting a narrow beam that barely penetrated a few feet into the blackness.
"Madison, seriously, knock it off." But her voice carried less conviction now. The sound had come from the wrong direction—not from the entrance she'd used, but from deeper in the workshop complex.
The beam of her phone light shook as her hands trembled slightly. She swept it across the workbenches, looking for any sign of movement or explanation for the sound. The biological samples in their containers seemed to glow more brightly in the darkness, casting an eerie green-blue radiance that made the shadows dance.
Another sound—definitely not random this time. Deliberate movement, something large shifting position among the equipment. Emma backed toward what she hoped was the exit, keeping her phone light trained on the workshop interior.
"Sophia?" she called out, hoping her friend had found another way into the space. "Is that you?"
A low growl answered her—deep, primal, and definitely not human.
Emma's blood turned to ice water in her veins. Her phone light wavered as her hands shook, the narrow beam darting frantically across the workshop as she tried to locate the source of the sound.
The growl came again, closer this time, with a predatory quality that raised every instinct screaming in her head. This wasn't Madison playing games or Sophia trying to scare her. This was something else entirely, something that had no business being in an abandoned building.
"Taylor," she whispered, the name coming out as half prayer, half curse. "What did you do?"
Movement exploded from the darkness—golden fur and flashing teeth and claws that caught her phone's light for just an instant before something massive slammed into her. Emma screamed, throwing her right arm up instinctively to protect herself as the creature's weight knocked her backward.
Pain exploded across her forearm as claws raked through fabric and skin, four parallel gouges that sent fire racing up her arm. She caught just a glimpse of the thing in her phone's strobing light—golden fur, too-large proportions, and eyes that reflected the light like a wild animal's. It hissed at her as the light caught it.
Then it was gone, bounding away into the darkness with fluid grace that seemed impossible for something that size. Emma crashed into a workbench, equipment scattering as she fought to keep her balance, her phone clattering across the floor and casting crazy shadows as it spun.
The lights blazed back to life without warning, fluorescent bulbs humming as they flickered to full brightness. Emma blinked against the sudden illumination, her right arm cradled against her chest as blood seeped through her torn sleeve.
She looked frantically around the workshop, but saw no sign of whatever had attacked her. The space looked exactly as it had before the lights had gone out—equipment in place, no obvious disturbances except where she'd knocked things over in her fall.
Emma grabbed her phone from where it had landed, her hands shaking as she tried to call Sophia. No signal. She tried Madison with the same result, then attempted to send text messages that showed as failed to deliver.
"This is not happening," she muttered, examining her right arm. Four distinct claw marks ran from just below her elbow to her wrist, deep enough to draw blood but thankfully not severe enough to require stitches. The wounds burned like fire, but the pain seemed to be fading even as she watched.
She looked around the workshop again, this time searching for something to treat her injuries. A first aid kit hung on the wall near one of the workstations, its red cross symbol partially faded but still visible. Emma grabbed it with her uninjured hand and found it well-stocked with basic medical supplies.
The antiseptic stung as she cleaned the claw marks, but the pain continued to fade more quickly than it should have. Emma wrapped her arm with gauze bandages, using tape to secure them in place. By the time she finished, the wounds had already stopped bleeding and felt more like old scratches than fresh injuries.
Whatever had attacked her was gone now, but Emma couldn't shake the image of golden fur and those reflected eyes. The creature had moved with intelligence, not like a wild animal that had wandered into the building by accident. It had been waiting, watching, and had known exactly when to strike.
"Taylor's pet project," she said aloud, testing the theory. "Some kind of bio-tinker creation."
It made sense, especially given the biological samples she'd photographed. Taylor had triggered with tinker powers and was creating some kind of hybrid creatures. The thing that had attacked her was probably a guard dog or security system, programmed to protect the workshop.
Emma felt her confidence returning as she worked through the logical explanation. She was a survivor—always had been. Emma Barnes didn't run from challenges, and she definitely didn't let some tinker freak and her pet monsters scare her off.
Emma swept her phone's flashlight across the workshop one more time, noting how the biological samples seemed to dim in the direct beam despite the lights being back on. The creature had definitely reacted to the light—hissing and retreating the moment her phone had illuminated it. Classic photophobic behavior, probably engineered that way as some kind of design flaw.
"Typical Taylor," she muttered, gathering her composure. "Can't even make a proper guard dog without giving it an obvious weakness."
The thought restored some of her earlier smugness. So what if Taylor had triggered? She was still the same pathetic loser who couldn't do anything right. Even with tinker powers, she'd managed to create something that ran away from a phone's LED light. Amateur hour bio-tinkering at its finest.
Emma checked her bandaged arm again. The wounds had stopped throbbing entirely now, feeling more like mild irritation than actual injury. Another sign of shoddy workmanship—if Taylor was going to make attack animals, the least she could do was give them proper claws.
"Probably scared of flashlights too," Emma said to the empty workshop. "What kind of guard dog runs from light? God, Taylor, you really are hopeless."
She headed toward the exit, confidence fully restored. Madison's paranoid horror movie theories were looking pretty ridiculous right about now.
She checked her phone again, but still had no signal. The attack had been designed to frighten her, to make her run without gathering the evidence they needed. But Emma had already gotten what they came for—dozens of photos proving Taylor was an active tinker with a secret workshop.
The creature was probably long gone now, retreating to whatever den Taylor had built for it deeper in the complex. Emma just needed to find her way back to Sophia and Madison, then they could regroup and get out of here.
She gathered her scattered equipment and took one last look around the workshop. The biological samples still glowed in their containers, and she made sure to get a few more photos of them with her phone. If Taylor was creating living weapons, the Protectorate needed to know about it immediately.
Emma headed for the exit, keeping her phone's flashlight ready despite the restored overhead lighting. Her right arm felt almost normal now, just a slight stiffness where the bandages pulled against her skin. The creature's claws had been sharp, but whatever they were made of seemed designed more for intimidation than serious injury.
The tunnel beyond the workshop stretched in both directions, lit by the same fluorescent fixtures that had just come back online. Emma tried to remember which way she'd entered, but the passages all looked identical in the harsh lighting.
She chose the direction that felt right and started walking, listening for any sound that might indicate Sophia or Madison's location. Her footsteps echoed off the brick walls, creating a rhythm that seemed to follow her no matter how she varied her pace.
The tunnels formed a maze beneath the building, branching and connecting in patterns that defied the simple layout she'd expected. Emma marked her path with small scratches on the wall using her house key, not wanting to get completely lost in the underground complex.
***
Sophia prowled through the narrow tunnels, her jaw clenched tight with growing irritation. Twenty minutes of searching and she'd found nothing but empty corridors and locked doors. Emma's dramatic text about "evidence" better be worth trudging through this dank underground maze.
The fluorescent lights above flickered to life with a harsh buzz, casting everything in sterile white. Sophia slipped her phone into her back pocket, grateful to preserve the battery. The Wards-issued device was her only reliable communication link down here, and she couldn't afford to waste its charge on makeshift lighting.
"Finally," she muttered, scanning the newly illuminated passage ahead.
The tunnel stretched out in both directions, lined with pipes and electrical conduits that had seen better decades. Rust stains streaked the brick walls like dried blood, and the air carried the musty smell of neglect mixed with something sharper—ozone and chemicals.
Sophia moved forward with predatory confidence, her athletic frame cutting silently through the shadows between light fixtures. This whole expedition felt like overkill. Taylor Hebert, a tinker? The girl couldn't manage basic social interaction, let alone construct advanced technology.
But Emma's photos had been compelling, and that notebook with its complex equations nagged at the back of Sophia's mind. If Hebert really had triggered with tinker powers, the implications were staggering. The same pathetic loser they'd been teaching life lessons for months, suddenly enhanced with parahuman capabilities?
A soft click echoed from beneath her foot.
Sophia's enhanced reflexes kicked in instantly. Her body dissolved into shadow just as a weighted net dropped from the ceiling, passing harmlessly through her incorporeal form. The mechanism reset with mechanical precision, retracting the net back into hidden alcoves above.
She reformed several feet away, heart pounding from the adrenaline spike. The trap had been perfectly positioned—if she'd been a normal human, she would have been caught completely off-guard.
"Son of a bitch."
Sophia examined the trigger mechanism embedded in the floor. Professional work, with concealed pressure plates and what looked like remote activation capabilities. This wasn't some garage tinkering project. This was sophisticated security equipment, the kind the PRT used in their own facilities.
Her worldview shifted with uncomfortable clarity. Taylor Hebert—mousy, stuttering Taylor—might actually be a real tinker. The same girl who couldn't string together a coherent sentence when confronted was apparently building advanced defensive systems in abandoned buildings.
The cognitive dissonance burned. How could someone so weak, so fundamentally prey-like, share anything in common with predators like herself? Powers were supposed to go to the strong, the survivors. Taylor represented everything Sophia despised about weakness and victimhood.
But if Hebert really was a parahuman, the situation required careful handling. Sophia's own activities as Shadow Stalker would come under scrutiny if Taylor made complaints about bullying. The PRT took inter-parahuman conflicts seriously, especially when one party was an unregistered cape operating without oversight.
She needed to control the narrative from the beginning. Paint Taylor as unstable, dangerous, someone who'd triggered and immediately gone villain instead of seeking proper channels. The traps supported that theory perfectly—what hero built concealed snares in abandoned buildings?
With the right spin, Sophia could probably get Taylor classified as a biotinker threat and shipped off to the Birdcage. Problem solved permanently, and her own status as a Ward would remain untouchable.
The lights cut out without warning.
Sophia dropped into a combat crouch, her senses straining against the sudden darkness. Her night vision was good, but the transition from bright fluorescents left her momentarily blind.
Something massive crashed into her from a side passage.
She threw herself sideways, shadows already starting to flow around her edges. Claws raked across her hip as she rolled, shredding through her jeans but only scratching skin. Her attacker bounded away before she could get a clear look, vanishing into the maze of tunnels with barely a sound.
Sophia pressed her back against the wall, breathing hard. Whatever had just hit her was big—human-sized at minimum, possibly larger. It moved with fluid grace despite its bulk, disappearing into the darkness like it belonged there.
She reached for her phone to call for backup.
Her pocket was empty.
"Fuck!"
The Wards phone must have fallen during the attack. Sophia dropped to her knees, running her hands across the tunnel floor in desperate sweeps. The device was military-grade, designed to maintain signal even in underground facilities. It was her lifeline to the outside world.
Nothing. Just cold concrete and scattered debris.
A warm trickle ran down her hip where the claws had connected. Sophia touched the wounds—three parallel scratches, shallow but already seeping blood through her torn jeans. The thing pack had been fast enough to tag her even while she was transitioning to shadow form.
But instead of panic, Sophia felt something else entirely. A predatory smile spread across her face as she absorbed the implications.
This changed everything. Taylor wasn't just building defensive traps—she was creating living weapons. Attack animals that could hunt in the dark, strike without warning, and disappear before their targets could respond. The kind of bioweapons that would get a tinker flagged as a clear and present danger.
The PRT didn't mess around with biotinkers. Too much potential for plague scenarios and uncontrolled mutation effects. Nilbog had seen to that policy personally. Even the slightest suspicion of biological warfare capabilities triggered immediate containment protocols.
Sophia's career as Shadow Stalker would be secure. More than secure—she'd be the hero who discovered and neutralized a rogue biotinker before they could threaten the city. Commendations, increased responsibilities, maybe even her pick of which Protectorate roster to join when she aged out of the Wards.
"You think you're hunting me?" Sophia whispered to the darkness.
She flowed into shadow form, becoming a living shadow that hugged the tunnel walls. Her incorporeal state made her effectively invisible in the darkness, and completely silent. If Taylor's creature wanted to play predator and prey, it would learn exactly who sat at the top of the food chain.
Sophia had been hunting parahumans since before she'd joined the Wards. Gang members, drug dealers, low-level villains—they all shared the same look of terror when they realized their prey had become their hunter. The same expression that would cross Taylor's face when Sophia dragged her out of whatever hole she was hiding in.
The scratch on her hip had already stopped bleeding. Such a minor wound hardly qualified as an injury, but it would serve as perfect evidence of an unprovoked attack. Self-defense statutes were very generous when dealing with rogue parahumans.
She began moving through the tunnels systematically, flowing along the walls like spilled ink. Her shadow form could fit through gaps barely an inch wide, giving her access to areas no normal human could reach. If Taylor thought her underground maze provided protection, she was about to learn otherwise.
The creature's scent lingered in the air—musky and animal-like, with undertones of something almost human. Sophia filed the information away for her eventual report. Hybrid biology, probably part of Taylor's experimentation with combining human and animal DNA. The PRT's bioweapons experts would want detailed descriptions.
A soft scratching echoed from somewhere ahead, like claws on concrete. Sophia adjusted her course toward the sound, moving with patient deliberation. Whatever Taylor had created, it was still bound by physical limitations. It needed to breathe, to see, to move through space. All weaknesses Sophia could exploit.
Her shadow form flowed around a corner into a wider chamber, and she immediately spotted her target.
The creature moved on all fours near the far wall, its golden fur barely visible in the dim emergency lighting. It was definitely human-sized, but built like nothing Sophia had ever encountered. Digitigrade legs ended in padded paws, while powerful shoulders suggested incredible upper body strength. A massive tail swayed behind it as it investigated something on the floor.
Her lost phone.
Sophia's corporeal body reformed silently in an alcove twenty feet away, muscles coiled for action. The creature was focused on the device, giving her a perfect opportunity to observe her opponent. Its movements were too fluid, too controlled for a simple animal. This wasn't just some bioweapon—it displayed clear signs of enhanced intelligence.
Which made it even more dangerous. Smart enough to set traps, fast enough to strike from ambush, and apparently strong enough to do serious damage if it connected properly. Taylor had created something genuinely threatening.
The creature's head turned in her direction.
Even in shadow form, Sophia had somehow been detected. Enhanced senses, probably smell or hearing beyond human ranges. The thing's eyes reflected what little light was available, giving them an unnatural golden glow.
It smiled at her, revealing rows of sharp teeth.
Then it deliberately crushed her phone under one massive paw, the military-grade case cracking like an eggshell.