INTERLUDE II: MOMENTUM

Taylor exhaled slowly, rolling out her shoulders.

The gym lights cast long shadows across the worn mats, the rhythmic sounds of impact against heavy bags and muffled conversation filling the air. Sweat clung to her skin, her muscles already aching from the earlier drills, but Keith wasn’t done with her yet.

“Alright,” Keith said, his voice cutting through the noise. He stood between Taylor and Brian, arms crossed, his expression as stern as ever. “Light sparring. Taylor, you attack, Brian, just focus on footwork and positioning—don’t hit back.”

Brian nodded, shifting into a loose stance. Calm, almost relaxed. Taylor mirrored him, though tension coiled in her shoulders.

They’d been paired together before—not enough to know each other well, but enough that she recognized the way he moved. Brian was light on his feet, practiced in a way she wasn’t, and it showed. Even without throwing a single punch, he was just better.

Still, she focused. Hands up. Chin tucked. Feet steady.

Keith clapped once. “Start.”

Taylor tested the distance, stepping in with a light jab. Brian didn’t flinch, shifting just enough that her fist came up short.

She reset, trying again.

Jab. Step. Miss.

Each time, he moved just out of reach—never more than an inch or two, never hurried, but always just barely avoiding contact.

Her frustration grew.

Taylor wasn’t sure if it was her timing, her positioning, or something else entirely, but the gap between them refused to close. It was maddening.

Keith made a noise, something between approval and critique. “Adjust your range, Taylor. Step in.”

She tried, but Brian still danced just outside of her reach, like the space between them stretched just enough to keep him safe.

A flicker of irritation sparked in her chest.

Taylor lunged.

She hadn’t meant to—at least, not like that. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more instinct than intent, a frustrated attempt to bridge the distance.

And yet, this time, she didn’t miss.

Her fist landed cleanly against his shoulder, the impact solid, undeniable.

Brian grunted, stepping back, blinking in surprise.

Taylor froze.

That didn’t feel right.

She hadn’t caught him; she hadn’t anticipated his movement or made some perfect adjustment. It was like… the space between them had simply disappeared.

Brian rolled his shoulder, shaking it off. “Nice one.”

Keith grunted. “Better. You’re starting to find your range.”

Was she?

Taylor swallowed, nodding as if she understood.

They reset. The drill continued.

But as they moved, the thought lingered—unsettling and intrusive.

Something had been off.

She just didn’t know what.

. . . . .

The rest of the session passed in a blur. Taylor threw jabs, stepped in, and tried to focus, but her mind kept circling back to that moment. The way her fist had connected with Brian’s shoulder—it hadn’t felt like skill or timing. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like something had shifted, just enough to make sure she landed the hit.

When Keith finally called an end to the drills, Taylor was drenched in sweat, her arms heavy, her breath uneven. She grabbed her water bottle and took a long drink, but the lukewarm liquid did little to settle the unease curling in her gut.

Brian walked over, unwrapping his hands. “Not bad for a beginner,” he said, his tone casual but sincere.

Taylor‘s smile didn't reach her eyes. “Thanks.”

He studied her for a second, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “You’ve got potential. Keep at it.”

She nodded, but the words barely registered. Her mind was still stuck on that moment.

As she packed up her gear and headed for the door, Keith reached out, but before his hand could land on her shoulder, Taylor shifted instinctively, stepping just out of reach. She wasn’t sure if Keith or Brian knew she was a cape, but she wasn’t ready to find out. Anonymity was a rare commodity, and she was selfish enough to hold onto what little she had left while she still could.

Thankfully, Keith didn’t comment on her reaction—something she was quietly grateful for. He just gave a slight nod. “You did good today,” he said, his voice as gruff as ever. “But don’t get cocky. You’ve got a long way to go.”

“I know,” Taylor said quietly.

Keith gave her another nod and turned back to the gym, leaving Taylor to step out into the cool night air.

The streets were quiet, Brockton Bay settling into its usual late-night rhythm. Taylor walked slowly, her thoughts churning.

That moment—it wasn’t just a fluke. She knew it. Something had happened. Something related to her power.

It had to be.

But how? Her powers were just enhanced vision and a force field—neither had anything to do with… what? Attraction? 

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. If her power was changing—if it was doing something new—she needed to understand it. She couldn’t afford not to.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.

This wasn’t something she could figure out in the gym.

She needed space.

And she needed answers.