Summary: Taylor unlocks a strange ability within the locker...not one of overwhelming power...nor one of overwhelming knowledge...just one of a hundred tales. What is a story but a vehicle for hopes, dreams, and desires?

Authors Statement:It's yet another "Taylor Triggers an odd power in the Locker" Story. I'm quite fond of them if done well, and so here's my first take on it…


Notes 1-1

I screamed, pounding the inside of the locker door with all my might. I was trapped within what had been my locker, and was now a sickening mess of garbage, old tampons, and insects.

I was trapped. I couldn't escape. It was dark, cramped and reeking beyond anything I had ever experienced, and I couldn't escape. The stench of old blood and rot was all infusing, and I gagged once again, my stomach threatening to turn itself inside out again even as I shivered at the sensation of the filth around my ankles, and the insects that crawled over…everything.

How long had I been here? Minutes? Hours? Days?

My hands tingled unpleasantly from scratches and scrapes from when I tried to beat down the door, or at the very least draw the attention of someone who would get me out. There had been no response. Perhaps worse than that, it hadn't just been me and my bullies in the hall when they shoved me in here. Everyone else had watched…and laughed.

I finally slumped in exhaustion. I was tiring…I had tired. I could barely shout and my throat was dry. The beating on the locker door to escape or get attention had been for naught, and I was positive all the cuts that littered my hands were infected. I could even swear my vision had started swimming and dimming. Did that mean…was I dying?

Panic erupted, and I spent minutes more beating against the locker with everything I had, earning only more cuts and bruises. I didn't want to die! I wanted to live! I didn't want to disappear…just being a victim in a cruel story. I didn't want to have my life's story end here.

Tears leaked as I slumped again, and laughed bitterly as no one came, and nothing gave. It was sad…pathetic. They had really left me to die in here. Because of them, my life was a sad pathetic story, and now because of them…it would come to an unsatisfactory conclusion.

Anyone could have had a better story...made a better story. Anyone…everyone...except m-

[TREJECTORY]

Everything was dark…and yet, not. The void was littered with stars, distant and gleaming, but those only served as a backlight and scale to the two titanic entities that twisted before them.

They were big, large, huge…larger then continents, then worlds, then hundreds of worlds. In their twisting, they shed lights as they rampaged...hundreds? Thousands? Millions?

[DESTINATION]

Somehow, each of the uncountable number of lights left the impression of power, of heroes, villains, and rogues…of adventures, and battles, and secrets, and all the little details in between.

So many shards…so many stories…

One particular grew larger and larger engulfing the lights, the entities, everything…

I wondered what my story would be…

[AGREEMENT]

-me.

I sobbed, then avoided the temptation to wipe the tears away…knowing in the back and front of my mind that tears were better than the infectious agents coating my arms and hands.

If I could just get out, everything would be fine. Everything. But the Locker had a…well, it had a lock, and I could only bloody my hands against the metal.

If only if it weren't for the lock, I could have been out of here hours ago.

A feeling…a whim…an idea bubbled up from the depths of my mind. It was all the Lock's fault. If it weren't there…if it wasn't keeping me in…then I wouldn't be trapped here, being a victim that needed rescue.

The word rescue brought to mind capes, my heroes when the world seemed to forsake me. If only a cape knew where I was. Armsmaster probably had a gadget or five to break me out. Miss Militia likely had hundreds of weapons that could do the same. Alexandria? She could easily just tear the lock off, or skip that and simply tear the door off. Legend? Eidolean? Lung? Oni Lee?

I stopped when I realized I had started thinking of villains, and then reconsidered. While it was wishful thinking to be found by a hero, a villain or rogue might be more likely. Who else would come to the school in the depth of night?

I purposefully avoided thinking about the holes in that logic in desperation as my thoughts sped on.

What kind of Villain would save someone? What kind of Villain would save me, a pathetic girl trapped in a locker…by a lock…

Almost unbidden, I felt myself start thinking out loud as I followed that thought, eager to escape the locker even if only in my thoughts. "A Lockmaster…a specialists with locks who can open any lock", I mused, nodding to myself. A lockmaster was what I needed, but why would he save me?

"A kind grandfatherly man who wants to leave his mark on the world…He…"

I paused, feeling almost foolish at the building story…but what else could I do? Perhaps someone else would hear it and get help…except no one had come when I had cried out and beat against the locker before.

I could only wait and hope, and what was a story but wishes; hope incarnate?

"He wanders, his crimes minor, just advertisements of his own skills. His obsession with locks leads him to hunt down locks of all types to switch out with those of his own designs…"

I again paused, feeling that one last line or group of lines would allow the story to be complete. But what? What should he do? What did I need?

"In his most whimsical moments, he likes to switch locks with those of his own design, his most horrible crimes only when he switches out locks of great importance.", I heard myself say, "It was in this mood he visited a school, and in the middle of his work found a girl in a locker…"

Yes. This was it. This was what I needed. Just a little bit more…just a little bit…

"He found a girl in a locker and couldn't just leave her there to suffer and die. He broke the lock open and saved me. That is the tale of the Lock…Master. Yes, the Lock Master", I finished, somewhat lamely, and somewhat ashamed at how hope surged, expecting something to happen.

I shouldn't really be surprised. It was just a story, one to take my mind off the situation for a little while. Just a stupid story, by a desperate stupid girl…

That didn't stop me from hoping it would be true more than anything. Wanting more than anything…and fearing more than anything it wasn't.

Minutes passed and the anticipation slowly drained into despair.

What was I doing? Why did I think a story would help me? Why did it hurt so much when it didn't?

It was then the hope truly died, and I was truly trapped in the locker again, unable to escape, unable to even hope of escape, dying in the filth and insects that surrounded me…

Then there was a small noise outside, followed by the lock suddenly clattering to the ground, and the door being flung open. Outside was far brighter than I thought it would be, and I couldn't help but cry out, blinded, as a large warm hand reached in and gently pulled me out.

"There, There Lassie", said a warm elderly voice, "Ah've got you. You're safe now"

He embraced me in a comforting hug, and I felt…warm…safe…secure again. It felt like…how dad's hugs used to feel, back when we still had mom. I was out of the locker…I was saved…I was all these things.

I was…at peace.


End of Chapter

Story Word count: 1261/1261

Page count: 4

This story was originally sort of planned to be a cross over with Nurarihyon No Mago, but the adjustments to the Ability Taylor Triggers with have led it to only have a loose semblance to the clan/game that inspired it.

I do recommend that manga, by the way.

Feel free to leaves comments, suggestions, omakes, or whatever. So long as it's not completely negative, I will try to take what is said into account. Also feel free to ask questions about the story.

Finally…I am considering Space Battles of sufficient velocity if and when I overcome my horrific writing habits. Thoughts about this course of action?