It took only seconds for the scene to go from that of a calm park suburb to utter chaos. Bridget, huddled on a park bench and looking shiftily around while she tossed stale bread crumbs to birds, had been startled a little by the very sudden egress of the avians she'd been feeding. They'd all just flapped away, some screeching and some doing that weird throaty chirp that birds will do sometimes. It made her heart beat thirty times faster; she turned her head quickly this way and that in case anyone associated with a very certain corporation had come to collect her. None that she could tell, just people pushing strollers and walking their dogs.

And then the sirens started to wail.

Bridget looked toward the river, and a couple miles downstream, the nuclear power-plant that stood right next to it. Oh no. Oh, please, no.

To just about any passerby who was now fleeing as their smartphones and companions passed on warnings to flee from the police, it looked as if she'd fainted. What she was really doing was projecting: it was easier to investigate the power facility when she could phase through objects, was invisible, and wasn't tethered by the laws of physics. Unfortunately, she also couldn't feel differences in air temperature, and it took her a little while to find a thermometer. Alarm bells went off: it was steadily rising. Something or someone was aiming to cause a meltdown. Workers were evacuating. A few of the more senior staff were trying their best to shut down the reactors but to no avail.

No no no.

When Bridget woke in her body, she was on a stretcher headed toward an ambulance. She rolled off of it and ran, leaving one paramedic asking her to "please come back" and the other grumbling angrily and muttering something about stupid college-age fucks wasting their time. She got in her car and sped home, driving in a way that would get her a million dollars worth of tickets if the police weren't currently so occupied with a possible repeat of Chernobyl.

It was time to become Renegade.