(AV) GOING AGAINST EXPECTATION

Taylor blinked hard, vision still swimming, but she felt the rooftop shudder beneath her boots from the thing that had struck Shielder, its final step grinding tar into fine dust as it came to a stop.

For a moment, there was only the settling of dust and Shielder’s ragged wheeze as he rolled onto his back with a pained groan. Then the dust fully parted, and the shape became clear.

It was no ordinary beast.

A hulking silhouette crouched under the moon, massive shoulders heaving, and breath huffing out from its chest in pale wisps. Its body was a grotesque marriage of exposed muscles and bony plates, with spikes bristling between calcified flesh. Its head lowered, cavernous jaws dripping with glistening threads of drool that caught the silver glow above.

And its eyes—burning with an alien awareness, yet unmistakably canine—flicked from her to the side, locking toward the distance as a piercing whistle cut through the night.

The beast itself had clued her on who she had to thank for the rescue, but that sound clicked something in place and only confirmed it.  

The Undersiders.

Her stomach twisted.

Of course it would be a villain team and not the PRT that would appear.

She’d only ever heard about them in passing, names whispered in hushed school gossip, but she had done her research on every local group: Grue, Tattletale, Regent, and Hellhound. A gang of small-time villains with middling notoriety in Brockton Bay. She wasn’t naive enough to think they were harmless, but compared to the ABB or the Empire, they were practically background noise as they usually stuck to petty theft. 

And yet, here they were, saving her.

Saving her from Shielder.

The thought sent a wave of foreign emotions coursing through her.

She could already picture what they assumed was happening: a new villain, overpowered, bloodied, and left at the mercy of the oft-forgotten member of New Wave.The narrative they’d spin was obvious, and she could tell they had the expectation that she’d be thankful for their timely intervention and fall in line, that she’d help them put the earnest teen hero down.

They’d think they’d gained an ally tonight.  

But no.

No.

That wasn’t who she was.

She wasn’t going to fall into their narrative. She wasn’t going to throw away the fragile, desperate thing she was clinging to—that dream of being a hero—just because circumstances lined up badly against her. If anything, this was her chance to set things straight, to prove to Shielder, to the PRT, and to herself, that she wasn’t what they painted her as.

She wanted to be a hero, and heroes didn’t abandon each other. It might be foolish, or a display of naivety, but even though he thought she was the enemy, she wouldn’t leave him.

Her body screamed in protest as she pushed herself upright, her head still ringing from the earlier blow, and her knees trembling beneath her weight. She staggered, caught herself, and forced her eyes open wide despite the slight dizziness remaining.

Across the rooftop, Shielder was still down, gloved hands clawing at the space beside him as he tried to sit up. He looked particularly vulnerable; it seemed his costume didn't offer as much protection as hers. 

And between her and him, descending on two more monstrous beasts, the Undersiders arrived.

Grue, broad-shouldered and clad in leather, was impossible to miss. Behind him clung Tattletale, blonde hair spilling free, and arms wrapped loosely around his waist as she leaned forward. The second beast bore Hellhound and Regent; the former focused more on the first beast and making sure it was okay, while the latter toyed idly with his scepter, as though this rooftop scene was nothing more than mild entertainment.

Still, she could feel their eyes on her, and Taylor’s pulse hammered in her throat.

They thought she was one of them. They had to. Why else would they intervene? Why else would they look at her with that quiet expectation, as if her next move should be gratitude and obedience?

She clenched her fists. “No.”

The word was out before she’d even realized she’d said it.

She staggered forward until she stood between the Undersiders and Shielder, planting herself like a shield despite the faint trembling in her legs.

Behind her, Shielder looked up at her, and through the break in the casing, his confusion peeked through. Maybe he was wondering if he’d hit his head too hard as he fell, or if the world had turned upside down. Either way, she paid him no further mind, and kept her focus on the villains in front of her.

“You don’t touch him.” Her voice threatened to crack, but she forced it steady with a will she didn't even know she had. “He’s mine.”

Out of the four, only Grue and Tattletale gave her their full attention. Regent still twirled his scepter lazily, and Hellhound had bent to the side to scratch encouragingly at the bone-plated beast.

Grue spoke first, his voice deep and reverberating slightly. “He was about to take you down, so we evened the odds. But it’s your call, and we will understand if you don’t want us stepping in again. Just figured we should have each other’s backs, seeing as we’re all on the same side.”

Taylor’s breath caught. 

She could nod, pretend, fall into the role he’d already handed her, and no one would question it. She could keep her cover intact, maybe even use them to her advantage.

But the cost would be agreeing with the label the PRT tacked on her. She’d be accepting what they thought she was. 

And, regardless of how easy it would be to just go along with it—she could even delude herself by saying it was to stop this mess from escalating further—she really didn't want that. 

Her hands shook violently, but she stretched her arms wide, standing tall despite the bodily ache, and raised her voice until it carried across the rooftop.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me.”

The rooftop went still at her declaration, and everyone stared at her like she’d grown another head. Regent even finally lowered his scepter, and Shielder froze behind her, his disbelief almost palpable.

Taylor’s heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest, but she held her ground. This was it: the moment. No matter how badly everything had gone so far, no matter the bruises and aches and the sting of humiliation, this was where she could turn it around. This was where she would make it publicly known that she wasn’t going to be the villain they thought she was.

She was going to be the hero, even if that meant fighting off her rescuers.