OnAHiatus
patreon
(SHATTERPOINT) NOT-SO HEROIC
🕑 Added 2025-09-19 08:32:00 +0000 UTCBattery’s world was quickly falling apart in real time, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. For all her training, all her years of experience, all the hours spent mastering her ability until she could trust herself not to hurt anyone by accident, none of it had prepared her for the paralyzing weight of this moment.
She had expected trouble, yes. Brockton Bay was built on it, and she had come to accept that. Or maybe a fight, maybe another criminal with delusions of carving out territory in a city already strangled by its gangs. She hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected someone who didn't need powers to look straight through her, past the mask, past the alignment, past the carefully maintained facade she had built around herself, and speak the one truth she could never afford anyone to know.
Her throat tightened, dry, the silence stretching between them until it felt unbearable. A question hung in the air—his question—and it pressed down on her harder than anything ever had recently.
Should she just tell him? Should she hand him the truth and let Cauldron deal with him, make him their problem instead of hers? The thought tempted her. She wanted, more than anything, to be rid of the burden she’d carried alone for so long. To shove it onto anyone else, just to stop living with the constant dread that someday, somehow, the wrong person would put the pieces together and the world would know.
But not like this, and not to him.
At least, not before telling Ethan.
Her husband, who believed in her. Who had held her in his arms, happily telling her how she was still one of the good ones left in a city that was running out of them. To give the truth to a stranger—an admittedly intimidating stranger with calculating eyes and a calmness that felt ingrained—before confessing it to the man who had shared her bed, who had trusted her wholeheartedly for years? That would be betrayal of their marriage vows.
And yet, silence wasn’t an option either.
Anakin already knew she was hiding something. He’d caught the cracks in her composure—tells usually too small for anyone else to notice, and one she had spent years training to suppress—and worse, he understood them. If he walked out of this building and went straight to Director Piggot, she would listen. She wanted him in the Protectorate, that much was clear. If he claimed Battery knew something about a secret organization that sold powers, Piggot wouldn’t dismiss it outright. She would press, she would dig, and sooner or later, after pressing hard enough, Battery’s entire life would come apart.
Because the truth was damning.
Yes, she had come to love the work, to love being a hero and doing good. But she hadn’t joined the Protectorate out of some noble calling. She’d joined because of Cauldron. Because she owed them. She’d even been their mule once, carrying one of their precious vials where they needed it to go. A favor paid that, even till today, she didn't regret.
And deeper still—beneath the veneer of heroism and good intentions—lay the existence of the vial she had taken for herself. The one that had shaped who she was now and what she could do. The one that made her Battery.
If that came out, if anyone ever proved it, everything she had built would collapse. Every step of her career, every victory she had fought for, every moment she’d held Ethan’s hand and seen pride in his eyes would crumble under the truth.
And then her thoughts darkened.
There was one option she had refused to give voice to until now. The option that lived in the darkest corners of her pragmatism:
Killing him.
The idea made her stomach twist, but the sheer simplicity of it was undeniable. Anakin Skywalker wasn’t a cape. He wasn’t untouchable. She could move faster than he could blink, faster than he could draw whatever weapon he might have hidden away, faster than he could draw breath, or even open his mouth to speak. A burst of speed, a single strike to the throat, and the problem would vanish. The secret would stay buried.
The horror wasn’t that the thought came to her. The horror was how easy it seemed.
Her hand twitched near her side. Seven seconds was all she needed.
She concentrated, the lines on her costume glowing, until—
“Battery.”
Miss Militia’s voice cut through her concentration, unintentionally causing her to release her hold over her charge. The glow faded at once, and she blinked, sucking in a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Hannah stood at the end of the hall, now in full costume, rifle cradled casually but her eyes narrowed just above the green scarf. And unbidden, relief crashed through Battery, so strong it made her knees weak.
She didn’t have to kill anyone yet.
“Everything under control?” Miss Militia asked. Her voice was mild, almost conversational, but the warning beneath it was unmistakable: you’re not alone here.
Battery straightened, forcing her composure back into place, though with visible effort. “Yes,” she said, a little too quickly. “Questioning in progress.”
But her heart was still racing because she knew Skywalker had seen it. He had seen the glow of the lines on her costume, seen her hand twitch, and seen her weigh the possibility of killing him and coming to a decision. He knew the ugly truth of what she had been about to do,
And that wasn’t even the worst part.
Miss Militia might have saved him in the nick of time, spared her from the choice she had been about to make, but in doing so, she had damned Battery instead. Others might have stayed silent, let suspicion fade, and bought time for her to decide when or how to confess. But Battery knew Anakin wouldn’t give her that chance. There was no doubt in her mind that Anakin Skywalker would take full advantage of this situation. He would extract the entire truth about Cauldron, and in doing so, ruin her in the process.
He seemed the type of man who would be merciless to anyone he counted as an enemy.
