Taylor ran with a steady, purposeful pace that ate up cracked asphalt and broken pavement as she moved deeper into the docks. Smoke still lingered faintly in the air from last night's fire, mixing with the briny scent of the bay.
She spread her awareness outward as she ran, bugs fanning through alleys and clinging to warehouse walls, giving her perception of the streets around her for two blocks. It let her get around the rare clusters of civilians and the even rarer patrol cars.
The area was quiet. Fewer people willing to linger after what had happened last night.
That worked in her favor.
She didn't want to be seen climbing. That would invite questions or investigation.
After a few minutes, she spotted what she needed—a loading bay with an exterior ladder that led to a narrow metal platform. From there, a series of jutting vents and rusted pipes climbed toward the roofline.
She scaled the structure quickly, boots and gloved hands finding purchase with ease. It wasn't a graceful climb by any metric of the imagination, but with a final pull she rolled onto the rooftop.
Wind brushed lightly against her costume as she stood.
From up here, the nearby docks looked scarred. Blackened sections of pavement, collapsed buildings, everything you'd expect after a fire breathing dragon passed through.
Taylor crossed to the edge and crouched, scanning the skyline. With what she estimated to be a little over eight minutes remaining until the pickup time, a thought accrued to her.
Had she been too vague?
On PHO, she'd said the docks. A rooftop near where the fight happened.
That felt specific enough at the time. Now, standing alone with nothing but the distant cry of gulls and the hum of traffic miles away, it felt… broad.
What if they couldn't find her? What if they picked up the wrong person?
She pushed the thought away as soon as it formed. Ten-Zero had tinker tech drones like Shade, sci-fi armour, and was able to track the most elusive S-Class threat in the country. If they wanted to find her, they would.
With that worry pushed aside, her thoughts drifted—not to anything specific at first, just the day as a whole.
It felt strange. Almost unreal.
She'd made her first friend since Emma betrayed her. Then she'd sat at a lunch table surrounded by people who might become her allies—maybe even her friends. Other students who were bullied and overlooked just like her.
Lookout.
Her lips twitched into a faint smile at the name. The one she had suggested. The one Isaac had backed without hesitation. Even if it was only a placeholder, she felt a quiet pride in it.
The bus ride, however, she could have done without.
She had come dangerously close to breaking her rule about using her powers on normal people. All because those two idiots Isaac called friends had apparently decided she needed to hear their entire discussion about his possible attraction to her.
"I'm telling ya, dude's got it bad."
"You see how he looks at her?"
"Maybe tall girls with long hair are his type?"
"Well, he did get pretty up close and personal with tall, dark, and mean in the principal's office."
It had been mortifying. Still, unlike Emma and her circle, Nate and Brandon had shut up when she told them to. That alone put them leagues above her usual tormentors.
Trying to distance herself from that embarrassment, she forced her thoughts somewhere more productive.
The interview.
What would it actually look like?
She'd tried to find information before messaging Ordis, but Ten-Zero was a black hole. No internal leaks. No credible anonymous posts. No former members speaking out. All anyone knew was what they chose to show—and that was usually just footage of them dismantling criminals or doing PR stunts. One thread on PHO had claimed the PRT possessed information about them, but that part of their partnership supposedly required silence.
Still, If they were recruiting, someone should have noticed.
Heroes didn't just disappear without turning up dead, switching sides, or announcing retirement.
Unless Ten-Zero specifically targeted relatively unknown capes like her. Recruited them quietly. Outfitted them with Warframe armor. Then let them operate as if they'd always been part of the team. Their members were also spread across the USA and never seen in the same place for long, so trying to puzzle out who they could've recruited by location alone would be pointless.
A thought struck her then.
If she was accepted… would she be expected to travel?
Her heart thudded at the idea.
For a brief moment, she imagined it—the adventure, the missions, the sense of purpose. A sleek, metallic armor wrapped around her frame, shielding her from bullets and energy blasts. Maybe something designed to amplify her range or strengthen her connection to her swarm. Alter them in ways she hadn't even considered.
Taylor snapped out her day dream when her nearby bugs started giving her weird feedback.
Odd in a way she couldn't find a word for.
She stiffened and looked up but she saw nothing.
Slowly, she straightened and turned in place, pulse climbing as she searched for the source of that distorted sensation.
When she completed the rotation—
Umbra stood there.
Suspended in the air just beyond the edge of the rooftop, as if gravity had simply decided not to apply to him.
In an embarrassing repeat of the night before, Taylor yelped and fell over. She hit the rooftop hard on her side, more startled than hurt. For half a second, she just lay there, mortified, before forcing herself up onto her elbows.
Umbra hadn't moved.
And he wasn't standing on air.
A narrow ramp extended from nothing, leading into a darker distortion behind him.
An invisible ship.
The Liset. It had to be.
Heat crept up her neck beneath the mask as she scrambled to her feet, painfully aware of how unheroic that must have looked. Just as she straightened, Umbra stepped forward and, with an effortless hop, descended the ramp to the rooftop. He landed silently in front of her.
Then he leaned forward and offered her a hand.
For a split second, she considered refusing, just to preserve what little dignity she had left. But that would be childish—and rude.
So she took it.
His grip was strong and metallic, yet warm and careful as he helped her up without comment or visible judgment.
Not that he had a face for her to read.
She brushed herself off quickly. "Hi. I, uh… didn't see you."
Umbra gave a small nod, then gestured toward the invisible ship behind him.
Right. Moving on.
She followed as he turned and ascended the ramp. The moment they crossed the threshold, the hatch sealed behind her with a soft, seamless hiss.
The interior of the Liset unfolded around her.
Curved metal panels flowed smoothly into one another, the surfaces clean and seamless. At the front of the craft, a wide panoramic viewport framed Brockton Bay below.
The ship was more science fiction than she'd imagined.
And somehow less.
There were no blinking consoles. No clusters of switches or levers. No pilot's chair. In fact, there weren't any chairs at all.
The open space at the center of the cabin dipped slightly into a circular platform, subtly elevated from the surrounding floor.
Umbra turned toward her. He raised his palm and light flickered above it, forming a small holographic display.
Text scrolled into view.
Welcome aboard the Liset, Entoma.
A second line appeared beneath it.
It was impressive that you detected the Liset's presence. The only other entity to accomplish that here was the Simurgh.
Taylor's stomach dropped.
The Simurgh.
She wasn't sure whether to feel complimented or deeply unsettled by that comparison. Her bugs had sensed something off, yes—but being mentioned in the same sentence as an Endbringer for it wasn't something she'd ever imagined would be given as praise.
"…Thanks?" she said carefully.
Umbra gave a single nod, as if that was the appropriate response.
You may take a seat near the front if you are not comfortable standing for the ride.
The hologram dissolved, and Umbra moved toward the slightly raised circular platform. He lowered himself into a kneeling posture. It looked vaguely traditional, though she couldn't place where from.
She watched, confused, until a glowing holographic sphere bloomed into existence in front of him.
Earth.
Rendered in miniature, rotating slowly. Faint lines and markers crisscrossed its surface. Umbra reached out and tapped a node along the eastern seaboard. The hologram zoomed in smoothly, resolving into the image of a sleek tower rising above Manhattan.
Ten-Zero Tower. She had seen pictures online and read some blogs on the experience people had inside it, but she was looking forward to seeing the futuristic skyscraper in person.
The view outside shifted seamlessly as the ship tilted upward.
The skyline began to fall away as the Liset angled toward the clouds. The strangest part was the absence of sensation. She could see the docks shrinking below them. See the horizon curve slightly as they climbed.
But she didn't feel acceleration or even feel like she was standing at an angle.
If she didn't know better, she might have thought the viewport was just a screen.
Not comfortable standing when the ship was moving at high speed, she lowered herself to the floor beside Umbra, bracing instinctively as the Liset pierced the cloud layer in utter silence.
Clouds swallowed the viewport in white for a few seconds—then thinned. Then broke apart entirely.
Blue deepened to indigo.
Indigo darkened to velvet black.
And suddenly, the sky wasn't sky anymore.
It was space.
Taylor's breath caught as she stared, completely absorbed by the view.
Earth in its quiet majesty. Blue oceans stretching outward in impossible curves. White cloud systems spiraling in patterns so vast they no longer looked like weather, but art. Thin ribbons of coastline she couldn't immediately place.
It was grand. Overwhelming. Beautiful in a way that felt almost unreal.
And above it—
Stars.
Thousands of them.
Not the faint pinpricks she saw from her backyard, fighting through light pollution and haze. These were sharp and bright. Some burned white. Others shimmered faintly blue or gold. A few pulsed red at the edges of perception. The black between them wasn't empty either; it was deep, layered with distant light and faint nebulous streaks that suggested more beyond what she could name.
A misted band cut across the void—the galaxy itself, a river of pale light stretching on and on, so vast it made her chest ache.
For a moment, the scale of it pushed everything else aside.
The interview.
Her doubts.
The Trio.
All of it felt small.
She was above them.
Above Brockton Bay, school hallways, gangs, and the endless, suffocating weight of the city.
Up here, none of it could touch her.
Up here, she was free.
Her gloved hand lifted toward the viewport without her meaning it to. Reaching toward something infinite as if she could grasp even a fraction of it.
She couldn't of course, and that made what came next hurt more than she expected.
The Liset banked gently.
The stars shifted across the glass, sliding away from her as the ship angled downward. The Earth swelled in the viewport, growing from distant sphere to dominating horizon in seconds.
She almost cried out to Umbra to stop. She didn't want this to end.
But she caught herself before she could do something that would embarrass her.
They pierced the upper atmosphere without fire or turbulence, cutting through air at impossible speeds. The edge of space bled back into blue, the velvet black fading into indigo once more.
Clouds rushed up to meet them, thick and blinding—
Then swallowed the viewport in white again.
This time, she knew what waited on the other side when they passed through again.
New York City.
Skyscrapers rose in sharp lines, metal and glass catching the late afternoon light, looking vibrant in a way Brockton Bay hadn't been in years. The river reflected sunlight in wide bands, bridges arching cleanly across it. Central park was green and sticking out easily compared to the rest of the city from up here.
Then she saw it.
Ten-Zero Tower.
It rose like a blade driven point-first into the skyline.
Its structure was smooth and seamless, all gray metal and clean lines, the surface broken only by faint bands of blue light that ran vertically along its length. The shape narrowed as it climbed, tapering into a spire crowned with a subtle glow. Midway up, the Tenno sigil was set into the façade in luminous blue.
At its base, the metal flared outward in curved supports that framed a recessed entrance. The doors were nearly invisible—part of the structure itself—outlined only by thin lines of light.
It was a marvel of engineering that she couldn't properly appreciate after the somber mood leaving space put her in.
As they approached the upper right side of the tower, its wall shimmered.
A faint hexagonal pattern rippled across its surface, barely visible unless you were looking for it. As they approached, the air itself distorted—like heat rising off pavement.
For a moment, it seemed like they were going to crash.
But then—
The Liset phased through the structure as if the building wasn't solid at all.
They emerged into a vast interior chamber—clean, metallic, brightly lit. Structured platforms and mechanical support arms lined the upper walls.
The ship lowered smoothly onto a designated pad, and the faint hum of the Liset softened rather than completely vanish like it was shut off. It didn't seem to touch down in the traditional sense; it looked to her more like a passive hover above the platform.
Umbra rose from his kneeling position first. Taylor pushed herself up beside him. Together they walked down the ramp and out into the tower's interior hangar.
The moment her boots touched the metal floor, a headache lanced through her skull.
It wasn't sharp at first. Just pressure. Then it spiked, sudden, painful, and blinding, making her vision swim.
For a heartbeat, she saw something that wasn't the room around her. Something vast. Indescribably massive. A shape moving through darkness between stars, large enough that scale itself stopped making sense. It spoke, but the sound wasn't sound, and yet she understood it in a way.
The meaning pressed against her mind.
She grasped at it, feeling as if this was important.
Then it was gone as if it had never been there at all. The memory of the event disappeared as the world snapped back into place. At the same time, something else flooded in.
Her swarm sense.
The insects outside the tower. In garbage, alleys, sewers, and many more places. She could feel them again. Taylor hadn't even realized the connection had gone quiet when in the Liset, but its sudden return was a much welcome distraction to the headache.
She swayed, and Umbra was there immediately.
His arm came up, giving her something to lean against as the headache receded almost as quickly as it had struck, leaving behind a faint ache and a deep weariness she had accumulated from all her activity last night and today.
When she opened her eyes fully, a small holographic display hovered in front of her face.
Are you okay? Do you require medical attention?
The text glowed softly in blue.
Taylor swallowed and straightened as much as she could. "No. I'm… I'm alright."
The words came out steady enough, and even though she was exhausted, she wasn't lying.
Umbra studied her for another moment before nodding once. A second line of text formed in the air.
After the interview, we would like to conduct a medical examination. The Liset's cloaking system appears to have had an unknown effect on you.
That made her stomach tighten with worry, but she forced herself not to jump to any terrible conclusion and just nodded.
Everything she had seen so far—the ship, the holographic systems, the seamless architecture—suggested technology far beyond anything she understood.
If their medical technology was just as advanced, it was probably safer than a hospital visit and put her less at risk of her parahuman nature being exposed to regular people. There was even a flicker of absurd optimism that maybe, just maybe, they'd fix her eyesight by accident.
Umbra did not immediately step away. He watched her carefully, as if expecting her knees to buckle again. When she remained upright, he turned and began walking toward the far wall of the chamber.
Taylor followed.
As they moved, she let her awareness sink into the swarm again, trying to find any insects she could in the building tower. She found some on what she assumed was the first floor but past that, there was nothing. The structure was nearly sterile.
For a place this large, that absence was unsettling.
They reached a tall seam in the wall that she hadn't recognized as a door until it responded to their approach. The surface split into three segments that slid apart with a mechanical hiss, opening wide enough for both of them to enter side by side.
Taylor braced herself for anything.
A crowd of armored figures trying to see what the new recruit was. A line of silent observers judging her every move. Maybe even just staff members going about their day.
Instead, the space beyond was vast and quiet.
The ceiling arched high overhead, smooth and metallic. Several other doorways were spaced evenly along the perimeter walls, identical and unmarked. At the center of the room stood a narrow spire rising from the floor, its surface dark except for a small blue-lit interface panel.
The place was grand in scale, but empty.
She had read rumors that the tower was just a tourist trap, something meant more for appearance than actual operation. Standing there, she couldn't help the flicker of disappointment that those rumors might be true, despite also being glad that she didn't have dozens of eyes on her.
Umbra led her towards a wide central column. As they approached, the blue interface brightened in response. He tapped it, and a soft chime echoed through the empty room.
An elevator, she assumed.
"Umbra. Do you have any advice for the interview." she asked quietly.
Umbra raised his hand again, and the holographic display flickered into existence between them.
Be honest and be yourself.
Then he added more.
As long as you do not lie, your induction into our ranks is guaranteed.
The elevator doors slid open with a muted hum.
Taylor stepped inside beside him, not sure how to feel about such simple advice but showing gratitude regardless. "Thanks Umbra, I appreciate it."
The doors closed, and the platform began to rise. Umbra nodded and lowered his hand before facing forward. She wanted to say more, maybe ask why the place was so empty, but he seemed to prefer silence to the point he communicated with messages instead of his voice.
The elevator slowed and came to a smooth stop. When the doors parted, Taylor stepped forward—and nearly forgot she was inside a skyscraper at all.
The space beyond wasn't metallic like the levels below. It opened into a garden as though someone had carved out a pocket of autumn and sealed it away inside steel walls.
Narrow streams wound through the room in deliberate paths, their water clear and shallow. Small wooden bridges arched over them at measured intervals, dark polished planks contrasting against pale stone paths that curved between clusters of short trees. Their leaves were a deep autumn orange, caught somewhere between gold and ember, drifting occasionally into the water to be carried along in lazy spirals.
Small, luminous wisps floated lazily through the air. They pulsed faintly with blue-white light, drifting between branches or hovering over the streams like living lanterns.
At the center of the garden stood a pavilion constructed from dark wood and pale stone, open on all sides. Inside, seated at a low table set with a simple tea service, was another figure in armor.
He was different from Umbra but had a similar design philosophy.
His armor bore black and deep bronze plating arranged in sweeping lines. A hooded mantle framed his helmet, giving him a bulkier silhouette than Umbra. The faceplate was narrow and mask-like with a long beard-like thing attached to it that stretched past his chest. It gave him a sort of robot Gandalf look.
He wasn't sitting in a chair. He floated above the ground, posture composed and perfectly upright, as though seated on something invisible. One hand rested lightly on the table while the other held a… book?
It barely looked like one but for reasons she couldn't explain, looking at it made goosebumps rise along her arms.
Umbra stepped forward just enough to remain in her peripheral vision. A brief line of holographic text appeared beside him.
This is as far as I take you. You must proceed alone from here.
Taylor nodded, though her throat felt slightly dry from her nervousness.
She walked along the path toward the pavilion. The closer she came, the more aware she became of the book. She made a conscious effort not to stare.
When she stepped onto the pavilion floor, the figure closed the book and it simply… wasn't there anymore.
"Welcome," he said. His voice was calm and distinctly British, possibly late thirties. "You must be Ms. Entoma."
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, not sure how to introduce herself, before deciding on just nodding.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"Welcome to Ten-Zero Tower. My name is Dante," he continued. "I appreciate you making the journey."
He gestured toward the lone chair across from him.
"Please. Have a seat."
Taylor stepped forward and sat, trying not to be overly aware of the fact that he remained floating rather than seated. Up close, the details of his armor were even more intricate—etched lines layered into gold and bronze plating, subtle blue luminescence threading through narrow seams.
Dante reached for the tea set and poured smoothly into the cup nearest her and steam rose in thin spirals.
It smelled herbal.
"I trust your trip was… illuminating," he said mildly.
"It was," she admitted.
There wasn't really another word for seeing the Earth and the sprawl of stars beyond it.
"I am glad to hear it. I was informed that you experienced some distress upon exiting the Liset's cloaking field, but it appears you have recovered quite well. Mental fortitude is both valued and necessary in our line of work. To see you display it so effortlessly is admirable."
He was laying it on a bit thick but she appreciated the complement.
"Thank you, Mr. Dante. I've heard great things about your people as well, and Umbra has been nice to me."
"I'm pleased to hear that. But please, just call me Dante. 'Mister' is far too formal for my liking." His tone was light and friendly. "Now, before we begin, allow me to reassure you of something. This is not an interrogation. You are here because we wish to understand you better. Thus you are free to decline any question, and you may take as long as you need to consider your answers."
Taylor straightened unconsciously and nodded.
Dante laced his fingers together in front of him. The motion drew attention to his hands—specifically his pointer and middle fingers on his left hand, which tapered into quill-like forms. Given the book from earlier, she could piece together that it was part of his power.
"Excellent," he said. "Now that the parameters of this interview have been established… tell me, Ms. Entoma—how old are you?"
"I'm fifteen," Taylor answered.
Dante inclined his head slightly. "And when did your abilities manifest?"
Her fingers curled faintly against her knees. The memory wasn't one she liked revisiting.
"A few months ago," she answer. "Late spring."
"Circumstances," he inquired.
She hesitated. He hadn't said she had to answer everything, but she'd already decided honesty was the safest route.
"Stress," she said finally. "Severe stress."
It wasn't a proper answer but it was the easiest to say.
Dante did not press immediately; he seemed to read her uneasy body language. "Do you wish to elaborate?"
She weighed it. The locker. The smell. The isolation. The humiliation. Her jaw tightened.
"No," she said quietly. "I'd rather not."
"That is your prerogative."
He paused to pour himself a cup and drink, though where the liquid went when he had no visible mouth, she couldn't tell.
He let out a content sigh before looking up at her again. "Do your parents or guardians, if you have them, know you are a cape?"
"No," Taylor said immediately, then slowed as she realized how fast she'd answered. "Just… no."
"Is that because you cannot trust them," Dante asked, "or because you are trying to protect them?"
Her first instinct was to shut down. The second was to correct him. She ignored both.
"My dad's not the problem," she answered. "He's just… he's been through enough. I don't want to add more stress to him."
Dante nodded once, as though that had been the expected answer. "Understood."
He set his cup down with a soft click and folded his hands together. The quill-like shape of two fingers drew her eyes there again despite herself.
"Tell me about your abilities as you understand them."
Taylor took a deep breath, grateful for a question that was simpler and far less personal.
"I control bugs. Insects, spiders… most of the small crawling things. I can give them specific commands, coordinate them individually, or move them like a swarm. I can also sort of sense through them."
"Sort of?" Dante repeated gently, leaning forward as if genuinely fascinated.
"It's not like I can use their senses perfectly," she explained, choosing her words carefully. "It's more like… impressions. Movement. Shapes. If I focus, I can get more detail, but it's still limited, and it's… a lot. I don't do it constantly."
He hummed at that. "And how far does your range extend?"
Taylor paused and nudged the bugs outside the building to the edge of her range to double-check. It felt slightly wider than usual, though not by much.
"Two blocks. It varies sometimes, but that's usually my max."
"And your control," Dante asked, "is it absolute?"
"Yes."
"Is there an upper limit to the number of insects you can control?"
"If there is, I haven't found it. One or a thousand, I can control them all easily, even when I make them all do different things."
"Marvelous. Such precise multitasking is usually beyond even parahumans with master-type abilities like yours." He reached for the tea set again and poured himself a little more before continuing. "Did you make your costume yourself? It's very well constructed for a new hero."
Taylor felt heat creep up her neck beneath the mask, though she wasn't sure whether it was embarrassment or pride at her homemade costume being given attention.
"…Yeah," she admitted.
"Impressive," Dante praised.
"Not really," she denied. "It's basically bug materials, spider silk, and padding. I'm not a tinker."
"Regardless," Dante replied mildly, "its design is quite sophisticated. It speaks to your utility and creativity with your powers."
That tipped the balance fully toward pride.
"Thanks," she murmured. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but she couldn't quite stop the small smile forming under the mask. "I wish I could've made it look less villainous though."
Dante made a subtle gesture behind her. She turned to see Umbra telekinetically guiding a sword through slow, precise movements, light trailing faintly along its edge. Though she had a biased view of the man, the message was clear. Umbra's armor was just dark and even more imposing, plus he had summoning lethal light swords as a power.
If he weren't with Ten-Zero, it would be easy to label him as villainous-looking.
When Taylor turned back to refocus on the interview, Dante shifted topics.
"Why have you not approached the PRT?" he asked. "You've had your abilities for a while now, and the Wards are the standard path for a young hero like yourself."
Taylor almost laughed, but it came out as a short, humorless breath.
"The Wards sound like pure drama. I want none of that." Realizing how blunt and childish that sounded, she added quickly, "And… from what I understand, they won't let me do real hero work unless it's an emergency, and they'd limit my power."
"Do you fear control," Dante pressed evenly, "or is it simply distrust of authority?"
Taylor stared at him, then down at her cup. This wasn't meant to be a trap, but it felt like one. No matter how she answered—honestly, dishonestly, or not at all—it would reflect something negative about her willingness to work within a structure.
But in the end, there wasn't much point in pretending.
"Both," she admitted.
Dante didn't pounce on that. He simply nodded, as though she hadn't just confessed to something that could disqualify her.
"Very well," he said calmly. "Let us move to hypotheticals. These are not traps, Entoma. They are methods of understanding what you will do under pressure."
She nodded for him to continue, but she was a little unnerved by how he seemed to read her thoughts.
"Scenario one," Dante said evenly. "You encounter a villain. They are armed. They are not currently attacking anyone, but you have strong reason to believe they will hurt civilians if allowed to leave. You can stop them only by killing them. What do you do?"
Taylor's mind immediately connected the situation to her patrol, the answer coming easily.
"I don't kill them," she said. "If they're not actively hurting someone in that moment, I track them and call for help."
Dante regarded her for a few seconds, his head tilting slightly. Then he gave a low, thoughtful hum that carried a note of quiet approval—almost satisfied. "I see," he said.
"Scenario two," he continued. "A villain is actively attempting to kill a civilian. You have one opportunity to intervene. If you act non-lethally, there are high chances the civilian dies. If you act lethally, the villain dies and the civilian lives."
Taylor's mouth went dry. Not out of nervousness but because the answer came to her more easily than she would like to admit.
"I… I don't want to," she said, voice quieter. "But if there's no other option? Then I save the civilians."
She thought about how helpless she was on that roof, how she had balled up waiting to die by Lungs fire. She knew with certainty that if she had the option to kill him during that moment, she would have. And she wouldn't have blamed Umbra if he had outright killed the gang leader to save her.
Dante hummed but he didn't seem satisfied or disappointed. It was hard to tell when the armour that made up his face didn't express any emotion.
"And you can live with that?" he asked..
Taylor nodded. "I'd have to. I don't think I'd ever feel okay about it. But I could live with not letting an innocent person die when I could stop it."
Dante nodded slowly. "Good. You understand that doing the right thing does not always feel clean. The life of a hero, while glamorous to the public, is full of hard choices. You'll have to make many in the field. The innocent life vs the guilty. Your life or a villain's life."
He paused, then went again.
"Scenario three. Your teammate is in danger. The villain offers a trade: you leave now and they let your teammate live. However, if you take the deal and they escape, they may go on to kill others later. If you refuse, your teammate dies. What do you do?"
If he had asked this question yesterday, it probably would have been difficult for her to even imagine what a good teammate even looked like. But now, she thought about Isaac and his speech.
She tried to picture it—him being that teammate. What would he want? What choice would he tell her to make?
He seemed to prefer being the target. His actions said he was someone who would draw fire so others could have even a moment's reprieve. But could she sacrifice someone like that? A friend? Even if they wanted her to? Even if it saved many more lives.
Taylor's mind snagged on that.
"I…" she started, then stopped.
Dante didn't speak, so she forced herself to think it through.
"If I can mark the villain with my bugs," she said slowly, "then I take the deal—follow them after they release my teammate, call for backup, or take them down when no one else is in danger."
"And if you cannot mark them?" Dante asked.
Taylor's jaw tightened, she knew her answer, but she had to force the next words out. "Then I'd make sure his sacrifice was worth it and take the villain down."
"Interesting." Dante hummed softly, his quill-like fingers tapping together once. "Conviction like yours is very rare."
Taylor wasn't sure she liked that assessment. It sounded like a compliment. Something she didn't want after admitting—if only in her head— that she would be willing to sacrifice a friend.
The questions continued after that.
Some were straightforward—how she trained, what she knew about local gangs, how she would feel about leadership. Others were uncomfortable—what she feared most, what would make her quit, what would she do if she found out her friend was a traitor. And few made her feel like he was trying to look under her skin.
Eventually, after what felt like far too long and not long enough at the same time, Dante leaned back slightly in the air, hands folding again.
"One final question," he said. "Why did you decide to be a hero?"
Taylor's first instinct was to give the easy answer.
Because it's right.
It was true—but it wasn't the whole truth. And given how pointed some of his questions had been throughout the interview, it was obvious to her that Dante had a strong read on her character.
Lying to him had probably become impossible halfway through this conversation.
She stared at the tea in her cup for a moment before answering quietly.
"I was tired," she admitted. "Of being helpless. Of being… nothing. Someone people could hurt, and nobody would care about."
She looked up at him through her mask.
"And then last night, I knew… if I walked away, I'd be exactly what I hate. Someone who sees trouble happening and tells themselves it's not their problem."
Her voice shook a little, but she didn't stop.
"So I guess…" Taylor finished, meeting his eyes, "I want to be the kind of person who doesn't look away."
--------------------------------------------------------------
The Operator watched through Dante's eyes and felt something settle inside him as Taylor's answer came in.
Satisfaction.
Not just with her responses—though those had been solid—but with himself. He hadn't misjudged her. Not in the docks, and not at school.
Her answers revealed more than she likely intended. She was thoughtful under pressure. Deliberate. Capable of hesitation without paralysis. She understood consequences, and more importantly, she accepted them. She was not naive about violence, nor eager for it. And she would kill if forced—but she would not seek it.
A great mindset for a future Tenno Operative.
She wasn't perfect though.
Her answer also revealed she was angry, lonely, and (understandably) held a distrust of authority. Her heart carried scars that had yet to heal and could be exploited. But more than that, she was more willing to hurt the world than even she realized, and willing to step across lines if convinced it was necessary. That edge would need guidance.
Still, she was anchored. Anchored by her morality. Anchored by her father. Anchored by a desire not to become the very thing she despised.
It made him glad he chose this simple format for the meeting instead of the original plan.
He had wanted to conduct the interview while moving—a go-along interview, as people on this earth called it. He would have given her a tour of the tower, walked her through the gardens, the operational floors, the observation decks. Let the scale of it all settle in while he questioned her.
He had abandoned that plan the moment he saw her in the Liset.
He had seen it clearly, even through her mask. The way she had gone completely still when the clouds parted. The way her hand had lifted toward the viewport without conscious thought. The way her posture had softened in the face of something vast and beautiful.
It had said one thing.
She was completely awestruck.
The realization had caught him off guard. It took him a moment to understand why, until he remembered the failed moon base and realized once more—
These people had not even colonized their own moon.
Of course she had been overwhelmed.
To her, that view had not been routine. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime sight that not even one hundred people on this planet could claim to have experienced.
He felt faintly foolish for how much thought he had put into planning when the answer all along was to keep it simple.
But that hardly mattered now.
It was time to give his answer.
"Congratulations, Entoma," Dante said evenly, though the Tenno made sure you could hear the smile in his voice. "You have passed the interview. From this point forward, you may ask any questions you have about our organization and your future role within it before deciding whether you wish to formally commit to joining our ranks."
Taylor didn't respond immediately.
"I pass?" she repeated, a touch of disbelief slipping through despite her composure.
"Yes," he assured her.
She let out a slow breath. Then, instead of asking about training or responsibilities or armor, she asked something else.
"My first question is, what is Ten-Zero?"
That wasn't the question he expected first but it still made the Operator smile. Seems even after all this, she wasn't so taken in as to ignore the mysterious nature of his organization.
Good instinct.
However, it wouldn't do to start talking without narrowing the scope of her question down.
Dante's helmet tilted slightly, the motion almost avian. "I beg your pardon?"
Taylor leaned forward slightly, fingers curling around the untouched teacup. "I mean—what are you? Really. As much as you've done, your group is still a huge mystery. You just show up, dismantle criminals, then disappear. Even the PRT barely says anything about you." She paused, then added, more directly, "So I want to know what you are and what your goals are too."
Dante hummed as if considering her question but it was really just so the Operator could buy time to think of how much to reveal. The Origin System and the Void were automatically out for now, but otherwise he'd have to freestyle a bit since he couldn't completely know what other questions she'd ask.
"I will not give you the entire truth," he finally said after a short while.
Her shoulders stiffened slightly.
"Not because you have yet to commit," he clarified. "But because, at this stage, even if you did join, certain aspects would not concern you. And you would neither believe nor fully understand them."
Taylor didn't seem offended but she definitely looked more wary.
"That's not very reassuring," she said.
"It is honest," he replied easily. "Do not worry though, you may not get the unfiltered truth just yet but you will be given more than even the PRT knows."
Her attention sharpened immediately.
"Ten-Zero," he continued, "is a hero team currently comprised of only three true members. Ordis. Umbra. And myself. We're hoping to make you the fourth."
She stared at him, frozen in place.
"…That's not possible."
The Tenno chuckled at the disbelief in her voice, finding it amusing. He wished she had her mask off to see her reactions.
"You think I'm lying?"
"Yes," she admitted bluntly.
"It is the truth," he said while stretching out his arms. "Every other 'member' you have seen operating under our banner would be classified, by your understanding, as robotics. Drones. But they are not, we call them Specters. They are sophisticated constructs made in the likeness of true Warframe armour like what me and Umbra wear."
Her gaze flicked toward the garden, towards Umbra, as if recalculating every sighting she had ever reviewed.
"You're saying all those deployments across the country…" she began slowly, "that's just three of you and these… Specters?"
"Correct."
"That's insane."
"If you think that's insane, trust me when I say you can't handle the full truth."
She let out a short, disbelieving huff of air. "And the PRT doesn't know that most of your members are robots?"
"They suspect much. They confirm little."
She fell quiet for a moment.
"And your goal?" she pressed.
Dante put his fingers back together.
"Our goal. Our true goal," he leaned forward as if there would be some world shaking secret, and in a way, it was. "Is to go home."
He could feel Taylor's confusion emanating from beneath the mask. His words made no sense to her.
"Where in the world could your home be that the Liset couldn't take you," she questioned skeptically.
The Operator let the silence hang just long enough to give the next words weight.
"Another world. See, the reason we don't have a history here is because we are not from Earth Bet. And not from Aleph. We are not from any world catalogued by the PRT."
Taylor got halfway out of her seat.
"That's…" She stopped, then restarted. "You're saying… you're saying you're ALIENS?!"
"Yes…" Dante said automatically. Then he replayed what she said in his head. "What? No!"
He was lying now, because he was pretty sure he hadn't been born on Earth—his earliest memories were the Zariman—but revealing his "alien" nature would complicate things far too much when he was trying to keep the explanation simple. Besides, he was still technically—even if by the loosest definition of the word—human.
"We came from an undiscovered Earth," he said with a sigh. "Your imagination is very strong Ms. Entoma, or maybe you've been reading too many internet theories."
Taylor's posture froze, then she sat back down hard, mortified.
"T-that makes more sense," She muttered, shoulders tight with embarrassment. She cleared her throat. "So you came here… how?"
"That," Dante said calmly, "falls into the category of truths that do not concern you yet. What is relevant is that we didn't come here on purpose and we have no way back at the moment."
She went quiet at that. She clearly didn't like the information being withheld from her, but she didn't push.
"And you formed Ten-Zero… because?" she asked instead.
"One of the ways we found to get back that doesn't require us to dishonor ourselves is to take up the mantle of heroes. It's slow progress but it's also quite lucrative," he explained.
"So Ten-Zero is… what? A cover?"
"Its a true heroic organization," he corrected. "We're not refugees pretending to be heroes. We're heroes who are refugees."
She absorbed that slowly, eyes fixed on him through her mask.
"And if you do find your way back?" she asked. "What happens then?"
"We go home," Dante said simply.
"What about everything here?"
"Ten-Zero will remain. I have no intention of letting our work collapse if, for whatever reason, I can't return to Earth-Bet. That is why we started recruiting. In time, Ten-Zero will grow and we'll replace Specters with people and pass the reins to those we recruited."
A subtle beat passed before he added.
"To individuals like yourself."
Silence settled over the pavilion.
The Tenno had purposely made the implication that she could be the future leader of Ten-Zero and he was sure it was not lost on her. She was someone who wanted control, and from what he understood of her character, if she developed more and gained experience she would actually make a great leader.
He bet she wasn't thinking about all the paper work she would have to do without Ordis though.
"Let me get this all straight," she said slowly. "You're stranded. You built a peacekeeping organization to stabilize yourselves here while you work on a way back. And in the meantime, you're improving the place."
"That is a charitable interpretation," Dante replied.
It really was, given his only improvement plan would be to kill all the current S-class threats—which, while great for civilization as a whole, wouldn't change the general parahuman situation unless he started slaughtering villains.
"It's not wrong," she pressed. "You could've just hidden. Stolen what you needed. Been on your way back home."
"The Simurgh took the stealth option out of our hands," he countered. "But yes. We could have remained an unconfirmed rumor."
She studied him carefully. The suspicion didn't vanish, but it softened the more they talked. Then she suddenly sighed.
"So Ivara?" she asked, sounding dejected. "She's just a puppet."
Was Taylor a fan of his?
"Not exactly," Dante answered. "When we were first establishing Ten-Zero, I was using the original armor and speaking through her. So If you're a fan of her you're a fan of me."
"I guess, but I kind of liked her more because I thought you were a woman," she admitted.
"Who says I'm not?" The Operator countered for no other reason but to be a contrarian. Taylor looked ready to bluster something, maybe an apology, but he cut her off with a chuckle. "I'm joking. I am male."
She blew out a sigh of relief and then a realization seemed to hit her.
"Wait, your power as Dante is part of that book right?" she asked slowly and he nodded. "So the armor being able to enhance a parahuman's abilities was a lie, wasn't it?"
Oh, did she just realize that?
"Only partly." He corrected. "It augments my abilities. But anyone who 'wears' the armour would just get the abilities already built into it."
Truth was, he didn't know how it would work with parahumans. He suspected they wouldn't be able to use their powers through them though.
She leaned back in her chair. "But the PRT said… Right they don't know. How haven't you been caught? A thinker or even a regular person could notice certain members act exactly the same."
"They came close a few times," Dante admitted. "But their thinkers are easier to misdirect because the power source of my armor interferes with their abilities. Their other analysts don't have that problem. So I began presenting a distinct personality and body language for each armor to throw them off."
He paused to consider revealing this next tid bit, chuckled, then added, "Just last night, with Lung, I played the role of a sadistic and arrogant dominatrix in a different armour than this."
Taylor's shoulders jolted like she'd choked on air, more shocked about how I acted as Khora than the revelation of me being there that night.
"I can't believe what I'm hearing," she said, half horrified, half incredulous.
Dante laughed. "It's effective and necessary."
Taylor exhaled through her nose, forcing herself back on track. "So what's your plan for me in all this? Why recruit me first? I'm sure there are stronger heroes you could get."
"We discovered you by chance," Dante revealed. "The idea of expanding was still fresh, and then you appeared. Young and new to the cape scene with a versatile ability and strong morality."
"So you recruited me first because I'm more… pliable," she said, eyes definitely narrowing behind the mask, "and it's less believable if I blow the whistle on your whole super robot army."
"Not untrue," Dante said evenly, "but not the intent. You wouldn't have made it to the interview phase if we believed you would 'blow the whistle.'"
He folded his hands neatly atop the table.
"More importantly, the purpose we're recruiting you for right now is to serve as our unofficial operative in Brockton Bay."
"Unofficial operative?" Taylor repeated, wary again.
"Indeed," Dante said. "We cannot publicly claim you as one of ours. As a member without Warframe armor—and the only one permanently stationed in a specific city—you would be the most vulnerable to attack. The perfect target for our enemies to strike, either for revenge or leverage."
Taylor went very still. The Operator took that as a sign she fully grasped the implications.
"That does not mean you would be defenseless," Dante continued. "You would receive training, equipment, and direct lines of communication to us. However, the level of security required to keep you alive if you were publicly branded as 'Ten-Zero' would be… intrusive."
Taylor sighed.
"So you're saying I'd lose my privacy," she said flatly.
"I am saying," Dante replied calmly, "that the necessary measures would be unappreciated by someone who values autonomy. Which I know you do."
She nodded slowly.
"Alright," she pressed, "but if I'm 'unofficial,' does that mean I can't be a hero publicly? Like—make my own name and image?"
Dante answered without hesitation. "You can. In fact, it is encouraged."
"Really?" she asked, suspicion giving way to surprise.
"Don't look so startled," he chuckled. "If all we wanted were individuals to punch faces in the shadows, we would rely on specters. What we truly want is influence and resources. Ideally, your civilian identity would one day be someone who possesses both—governor, CEO, public figure, even a pop star."
"But… you're Ten-Zero," she said, confused. "You already have all of that in spades."
"That is true," Dante conceded. "But imagine this: the secret of the specters leaks. A Thinker finally pieces it together. The government panics. The PRT attempts to shut us down. They leverage their public trust to demonize us."
He leaned back slightly.
"As Ten-Zero, we could respond with our own reputation and public relations. But unless we began slaughtering Endbringers, we would likely lose that battle. The PRT just has too much public trust to compete with."
Taylor nodded in agreement at that.
"Unless," Dante continued smoothly, "a number of seemingly independent yet well-loved heroes, entertainers, and officials begin publicly supporting us. Rallying public opinion in our favor."
"That sounds like you're trying to build some kind of conspiracy," Taylor said, unease creeping into her tone. "I don't know how I feel about that."
Dante regarded her without offense, because that's exactly what the Operator was trying to do. He didn't personally need it. He could go kill those Endbringers and gain sainthood in the eyes of the world. But goodwill didn't last forever. When he's gone, and the Endbringers are dead, it'll be up to the future members who don't have a Tenno and Cephalon's prowess to keep the organization afloat.
But the Tenno wouldn't say all of that, she would figure it out on her own. Instead he decided it was time to seal the deal on her membership.
"We are a force of good, but If you are concerned," he said evenly, "that is all the more reason to join."
Taylor head tilted slightly.
"Consider it," he went on. "If you walk away now, you lose access to information about what our 'secret little cabal' is doing. If you join, you become one of its earliest members. Senior to those who follow. And as a senior, you gain the ability to influence how Ten-Zero operates."
He let that settle before stretching a hand across the table casually.
"So which would you prefer, Ms. Entoma? Watching from the outside… or shaping it from within?"
Taylor stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment. Then she sighed. But instead of taking it, she reached up with both hands and pulled off her mask. She set it carefully in her lap.
The consternated and tired face of Taylor Hebert was revealed in full.
"Last question," she said. "Can you show me your face? Your real one."
The Operator felt a grin tug at his lips.
Fair. He knew a lot about the real her. She should at least know a little about the real him.
He let transference go.
The Operator slipped free of the Warframe in a pulse of light and appeared perched casually on Dante's lap, leaning back against the armored frame's stretched arm like it was a lounge chair. The Warframe didn't so much as dip under the added weight.
"Nice to meet you," he said in his real body, offering his hand again.
Taylor's eyes widened in surprise. "...You're my age?!"
He laughed again, her expression too funny not too.
"Yes and no," he replied through his fit of giggles.
Her eyes narrowed as she scowled a little. "What does that even mean?"
"It means I'm older than I look." He explained.
She stared at him harder, disbelief clear on her face now.
"So this whole time," she said slowly, "I've been interviewed by someone who looks like they should be in my math class."
It took great force of will to hold in his laughter this time.
"I doubt a highschooler could run an operation as large and clandestine as mine," he replied dryly.
Despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched.
She looked at his hand again, hesitated, and sighed. "You're serious about this. About me having a say."
"I am," he said seriously.
Silence lingered between them as her dark eyes searched his glowing pair for lies.
He didn't lower his hand though, instead he shook it playfully.
Eventually, she reached out and clasped it.
Her grip was firm, smooth and warm.
"Alright," Taylor said, holding his gaze. "I'm in."
He tightened his grip and shook once in confirmation. "Welcome to Ten-Zero."