Welcome to Immersion! Yet another Alt Powered Trump Taylor Story!

I hope I do it interesting enough to get your attention, if not oh well. I'm excited to get back to this idea as I actually have this story planned out! It even has an (Non-Scion) ending I hope to reach and the possibility of a sequel!

Special thanks to Auks, scriviner , Inkling and drvash for helping me work on the notes for this story and special credit to Auks for helping me edit the first chapter.

Immersion
Chapter 1: Prologue

The warehouse district of Brockton Bay was a surprisingly lively place for a city whose shipping had dried up. Though, perhaps, that wasn't so shocking. The old concrete buildings were spacious and though a bit drafty protected many from the elements when they had nowhere else to call home.

it had practically become a small town unto itself. They were a headache that the police couldn't be bothered with unless they got into buildings that businesses were actually using.

But vagrants and the homeless weren't the only residents of the area. No, there were far more fantastical occupants who made their homes away from homes within the forgotten buildings.

Parahumans. Capes. People with near unbelievable powers who operated on either side of the law made their homes bases in the empty walls of the district even as they presented themselves in costumes both awe-inspiring and frightening. Or, in the case of the two parahumans currently running through the back alleys of the district, dressed in the most ridiculous things imaginable.

The taller of the pair wore a gold-tan mask that made his face appear to elongate into a long muzzle with a cartoonish grin and eyes above the nose. Atop his head was a blonde wig was stylized to appear almost like a rabbit's ears. Around his neck, he wore a bright red scarf that rested on top of a purple tank top with a large white O painted at its center.

The other man… the other man was dressed as a giant blue frog. It's too long arms flapped as the man struggled to keep up with his friend, his face sweating as the material turned out to be less breathable than he had hoped.

"Are, are we almost there?" The question struggled to come out, the man's breath catching in his throat as he tried to regain control of his lungs.

"We really need to get you running out more bro." The other teen's voice came out through a broad grin in a cheery baritone, "You've been spending way too much time in the lab."

The frog man, better known to most of Brockton Bay as the villain Leet, gave his friend a half-hearted glare, "It's because I spend so much time in the lab that we got away." He had created a line of sight teleportation device that had helped them escape the back of the transport. Like he had thought it had made for an amazing escape. Unfortunately, it had proven to have a short shelf life.

Like a number of his latest inventions. At least it didn't explode too bad. He could probably salvage some bits of it.

"We still had to run miles man. With Vista on our tails." Uber, his partner, and overall bro, said with an exaggerated shudder. "She's a vicious little thing man, I don't care how the Heroes try to market her."

"Stop being a baby."

"You can't make me!" He proclaimed loudly, getting a laugh out of his friend. "C'mon man, just another block or two before we get home. And my fingers are sore from getting out of those PRT cuffs. Trickier than they look."

Leet groaned but flopped after his friend at an easier pace now that they were all but home free. Home, in this case, being a rundown warehouse that they had renovated with quick made walls and generators. It wasn't much but it had room for his lab and for Uber to practice so it was home.

It also had a decently concealed security system that made sure the homeless couldn't get in and try squatting, again.

"Still, overall I think we had a good show." Uber said, typing in the code to open their 'front door'. "Especially the last bit, that escape was fun. Very GTA."

"Hey! Maybe that can be out next show. It'd be pretty easy to do too. Steal a car, get into a… car… chase…" His voice began to trail off as he took in the sight of his home.

The furniture was flipped, the TV was missing along with all of their game systems, and the most telling thing about the scene were the seven sets of rabbit costumes that laid discarded on the floor. It didn't take long for them to put the clues together but he felt more numb than angry.

Wasn't he supposed to be angry?

"They took the VR system." He heard someone say in a small voice, belatedly recognizing it was his voice. He couldn't wrap his head around the idea of the guys doing this to them. They had done at least half a dozen jobs together, did that not warrant some form of comradery? An honor among thieves? "I was going to see if I could salvage the neural interface from it…"

He didn't know how long he stood there for, frozen and staring at his disturbed property, but it was long enough for Uber to search the rest of the building. "Dave" He called out Leet's real name, enough to snap him out of his stupor, "You should come see this."

Something about the tone of his voice made his legs freeze up and his stomach to drop. He felt as if he were moving through molasses as he finally moved, tracking his friend's voice to the back of their home. What he saw drained what little blood he had left in his face.

The door to his lab was open.

The steel door was still in one piece and the advanced lock was still in place but the wall next to it was ripped apart. Drywall caking the hall, leaving wooden paneling and studs plain to see.

A movie line played in his head, "Secure lock, sturdy lock, completely unbreakable. The walls? Not so much." He couldn't place it and he didn't care to. He all but stumbled forward, dread firmly setting in as he crossed the threshold.

The room was empty, or damn near close. Most of the heavy machinery was still there but it seemed that anything that wasn't bolted down or weighed less than a hundred pounds was gone.

His legs shook and gave out at the sight.

He was ruined.

Dave had an amazing power, one that made him more than what he used to be. It's what made him a part of the elite. He could build anything. If you could dream it he could make it.

Freeze ray? Done. Flight belt? First week easy. Transforming car? Tell him what you wanted it to change into.

But he could only build each of these miracles once. And the closer he came to a previous invention the more likely it was going to fail, explosively. He needed his old machines to work around the limitations of his power. So that he could jerry rig something new from the old.

But if he didn't have the old how could he create something new? If he couldn't create something new then what was he?

A hand landed on his shoulder and didn't bother to look up. The reassuring squeeze did nothing for his spirits. "We'll find it, Davey, we know where most of these guys live. They should have thought of that before stealing from us." There was a menace in his voice that David tried to take comfort in but he couldn't bring himself to.

Especially when he thought of what was taken. "They took the Medigun Eric." He vaguely realized that he was trembling. "How am I supposed to make anything without that? What if something goes wrong?"

"We'll get it back David, we'll get it all back. Don't you worry."

-0-0-0-0-0-

Danny Hebert often found that he was stretching the definition of a dockworker. Dredging up jobs and contracts out of prospective employers for simply being near the oceanfront. Sometimes he half joked that they were a union of security guards and salvagers.

The joke didn't make it any less true or any less difficult.

The Construction Union fought them on a number of jobs and the city was becoming increasingly stingy with their contracts. There was a full grown tree of bitterness in the local government aimed at the Dockworkers Association. Planted, with admitted justness, due to the actions of the rioters in the 90s.

Poor Matt hadn't even been involved with the riots, he had begged for cooler heads to preveil. But no one listened and Matt ended up taking the blame, stepping down as the Association President with the birth of the Boat Graveyard.

City hall's resentment was likely fanned from all of Danny's numerous attempts at revitalization. But, as his late wife often said, he was a pig headed man and wouldn't give up. Not while he still believed that his city could get better, that it could truly live again instead of just going through the motions.

So, despite the likely rejection coming his way he still worked on. Throwing his all behind each project and problem put in front of him. How could he not when it felt like if he stopped that everything would fall apart.

A knock came at his door, dragging him away from the proposed contract with the storage chain taking over some of the beachfront, "Come in." He called, half distractedly with his eyes still skimming the paper and his teeth gnawing at the end of a pen.

Dorothy, the office secretary, was a stout woman with a smiling face that seemed to have never seen a frown. She wore a simple skirt and blouse with a color scheme that could only be called 'bright'. But what really caught his attention about her was the cup of steaming coffee in her hand.

"Door, you're a lifesaver." He praised, setting aside the contract for the first time in nearly an hour to accept the cup.

"Well, someone has to make sure you boy's don't fall asleep at your desk."

"That was one time!"

Her lips took an amused twist, "Oh, really? Then it must have been someone else I saw napping here the other day."

"That was my lunch break and I just pulled an all nighter"

"Then a chewing out would serve you right." She said with hands on her hips, "Leaving your poor daughter home alone like that."

Danny took a long sip of his coffee, not meeting the woman's eyes as she squinted at him. Guilt easily rising once again as she stared down at him and he remembered just how many times he had done just that to his daughter, "Taylor's fourteen, old enough to stay home alone for a night."

Dorothy gave a snort, "If only I could have trusted my boys like that at her age. I don't think I would have come home to a house if I did." Danny gave a small chuckle at that, remembering all the exasperated stories Dorothy had regaled to the office about her boys over the years.

The woman suddenly snapped her fingers, "Ah, before I forget, Jared wanted to know if you had time tomorrow to go over itinerary for the Union meeting."

"Alight, give me a sec," Danny had to brush aside a good tower's worth of paper to find his calendar book, "Alright, according to this I'll be free on the ninth around 2 and Thursday around the same time. Can you see if he's fine with either?" Something about those dates was bugging him. He couldn't place his finger on it but there was something at the back of his skull nagging at him.

"Can I walk all of ten feet? Why yes, yes I can." She gave him a wave he absently returned, studying his calendar book like it was a piece of new age art that Anne used to love and he didn't quite get. He hemmed and hawed over it, trying to puzzle his way through to a discovery.

He hummed at the date for a good minute before flipping the page, thinking that maybe he had forgotten a meeting later in the week. It was until the date of that Friday was staring him in the face did he realize what he had forgotten.

He had somehow lost his balance while sitting completely still, barely keeping himself in his chair and the calendar in his hand. His stomach had dropped as the room spun and a cold sweat threatened to break across his back.

How could he have forgotten about June 11th? How could he forget what was literally the most important day of his life?

How could he have possibly forgotten Taylor's birthday?

Not only the date but he had forgotten to get her anything. No gift, no cake, he didn't even bother asking her if she wanted to have Emma over for a birthday dinner. God, he had never felt so low.

What would Annette say if she saw this?

He stood with that thought, his legs easily carrying him out the door. He had to fix this. It was fixable. There was time to repair his stupidity.

Taylor used to love that sushi place off of the Boardwalk, it was a bit expensive but it would be worth it. And maybe he could call Alan, see if Emma wanted to join them. Then he could finish the day with ice cream at that new place off of Third.

"Danny? Where you off to?"

"I've got to pick something up Dor. I'll be back soon."

That just left a gift.

What should he get? A gift card seemed too impersonal. Was she too old for stuffed animals now? Probably. Clothes? No, he didn't think his daughter was into fashion. Besides, he didn't want a repeat of the training bra incident.

Shaking the memory out of his head Danny decided he would think of something when he got to the mall. That place was basically designed with the idea of last minute gift shopping.

-0-0-0-0-

Taylor let out a scream as soon as she got home, the frustrated sound echoing through the row house's halls. Her dad wasn't home and wouldn't be for another good few hours. Which was just as well. She needed time to decompress, not a barrage of questions.

She slammed her backpack onto the foyer floor and stomped her way to the kitchen. It was all a bit dramatic but she had a long day so she felt justified in her childish behavior. Especially since she was alone and no one could judge her.

As the kettle boiled and she searched the fridge for something to eat, she wondered what the hell could have happened to Emma to make her such a bitch.

Or maybe it was something she did? Something she did wrong? Something that could destroy a lifetime of friendship so thoroughly?

No, she couldn't believe it was that simple. And even if it was there was still no reason for Emma to target her so.

To ruin her textbooks before she turned them in, leaving her with several bills from the school for her dad to pay.

To have kept a piece of her broken flute, a precious memento from her mother that they had defiled earlier that year, to pierce it through several pictures of her her mother. Pictures that had crude and rude things added to them.

How they had gotten that into her locker she did not know. How she kept her temper was another mystery she wasn't sure she could ever solve. Emma just couldn't leave the memory of her mother alone.

Emma had said it was a belated birthday gift, claiming she had all but forgotten it until her dad tried to invite her to Taylor's birthday dinner. She had a good laugh over that, asking if Taylor had any real friends in the world and showed disgust at the very idea of spending time with her former friend.

A part of her wanted to show the "gift" to a teacher. To show physical proof to her claims so that maybe she could get something more then offers of mediation.

But she couldn't bear even the idea of showing those pictures to anyone else. Her teeth clenched just at the thought of them. She couldn't have thrown them out fast enough, keeping only the piece of the flute in hopes to fix what was broken.

The flute still laid in her room, cleaned as best as she could make it but still unplayable. Nothing but a useless piece of wood and metal kept only out of sentimentality.

She tried not to think about it. She tried to focus on the smell of Earl Grey brewing in honeyed water, to think of how relaxing it would be. But in the end her teeth ended up gnashing and another scream worked its way up from her belly as her hand slammed to the counter, tea splashing out of its cup.

She consoled herself with the knowledge that they were in the last week of school and that she would soon have months worth of reprieve. That almost calmed her down.

Still, as she set down a plate of birthday sushi and teas down in the living room, she wished that she had let her temper and fist fly. It would have been worth any punishment to wipe that smug, condescending, look off of Emma's face.

But she rose above the impulse as her mother taught her to. Someone had to honor her mother's teachings and memory, especially if Emma was so insistent on defiling it all.

She was reaching for the remote, hoping to drown out her day with mindless distraction, when something caught her eye. Her birthday present from her dad.

Her only gift that hadn't been a cruel joke.

She wasn't sure if she liked it or not, honestly. She appreciated that her dad had tried but she had never been one for video games. She had always thought that they were a mindless time sink for violent behavior.

But damn if mindless violence didn't sound exactly what she needed.

The game system, a Bridge according to the side of the box, still laid unopened since it's unwrapping and took her a moment to set up. She briefly struggled with the wires but she must have done it right as the screen easily lit up and asked for a disk.

That gave Taylor another pause, after all, she had options. He father said the store clerk recommended them to give Taylor a sample of "different styles of gameplay". Taylor and her dad agreed he probably got swindled but Taylor was now feeling just a bit more grateful for that greedy employee.

The first game she picked up she decided against immediately, basketball really didn't seem like it was going to give her what she was looking for. The opportunity for some cathartic violence.

The same went for the puzzle game with a guy falling through a hole on the cover and what she assumed was a life simulator next two games looked to be more promising. Much more promising.

The first one had a blonde man and a wolf on the cover. The back of the case showed the man swinging the sword at various monsters and the wolf jumping at them. It also looked to have fishing? But the second game won the competition for one very simple reason.

It was rated M for Mature.

She didn't know much about video games but she knew that meant violent. And violent was what she was looking for.

She slid the game in and took her seat, popping in a piece of dynamite roll as she waited for everything to load. The system asked her a few questions for the game, the brightness, the difficulty, the interface. In the end, she just set everything to default and pressed start.

That was when everything went wrong.

A great jolt rushed up from her controller, tingling through her spine and slamming into her brain. She was sure her breath caught in her throat as the sensation began to overwhelm her.

And then she blinked. She blinked and she was no longer in her living room. Instead, she sat in a smoke filled room lined with chairs. An intercom dinged as the room shook periodically and a woman in a blue stewardess uniform walked down the aisle.

Was she on an airplane?

She blinked again and her ears were greeted to the sound of screams. Her lungs strained, her body felt weightless, and her ears rang as she suddenly found herself submerged in frigid water.

Luggage and wreckage sank rapidly around her as she struggled to the surface, every inch of her screaming for air. She broke the surface with what she was sure was the greatest gasp of air she had ever taken in her life, the air tainted by the smell of smoke.

Near everywhere she looked there was fire. Plane wreckage surrounded her and she did not hear a single cry for help.

Was she the only survivor? How did she even get there? Was she in the middle of the ocean?

These questions had to wait for when she wasn't at the risk of drowning or burning alive. So she swam to the only area that wasn't covered in debris and fire, a lighthouse that had remained miraculously untouched.

She called out, asking if anyone was there but she wasn't sure if her voice carried very far with how she was shivering. The door was open though and, hopefully, they wouldn't mind her going in where it wasn't raining and she could get warm.

The first thing she noticed when she entered the lighthouse was the giant statue looking down on her with grim features molded onto its bronze face. Beneath the man's face was a large red banner with golden letters.

'No Gods or Kings, Only Man'

The second thing she noticed was how the door slammed behind in her. She hoped it was just the wind.

She called out again, still shivering and unsure if she was heard. But she must have as a light had flared to life in the back of the building, leading to a staircase and what looked like a fancy elevator.

Were they leading her somewhere because they noticed what had happened? Or did they have other plans? They wouldn't bring her to them just to kill her, right?

Her hand near moved on its own, pulling the lever and jolting the room to life as it began trekking downwards. Outside the elevators window, she could see that she was actually sinking, fish swimming by carefully carved numbers telling her how far down she was going.

An old timey video began playing, taking up the view of the window. A man's voices spoke in smooth and impassioned tones as he decried the government and religion. Shaming them for holding back the artist and industrialist.

Taylor thought he was a bit full of himself but when she saw what he chose she couldn't help but feel awed. A great city, a metropolis, shined bright in neon underneath ocean waves. The elevator, or submarine, or whatever it was, was taking her on a long tour between buildings letting her witness great statues that rivaled the whales that swam between what would have been city lanes and jellyfish that glowed nearly as bright as the neon signs surrounding them.

She could hear other people talking now, on the radio that had apparently been next to her the entire time but she could barely find it in herself to pay attention to their words, too caught up within the great sights before her.

Her ride was pulling into a stop just then, gravitating to a series of rings that led into a building. She found herself excited, wondering just what lay within the wonder before her.

The first thing she saw was a man begging for his life as a woman gutted him alive.

-0-0-0-0-

Danny had gotten home late that night, nearing nine as he walked through the door. Not even a week and he was already breaking his promise to himself to not do that anymore, or at least not as much.

He hoped that Taylor wouldn't mind too much.

But as he walked in he found he didn't have to worry. Taylor seemed to have finally cracked open her gift and was having a grand time with it going by how intently she was looking at the screen.

He winced as the screen was covered in blood as her character seemed to die from what looked like impalement by drill. Maybe that game hadn't been such a great pick, it seemed way too violent. But Taylor didn't seem to mind as her character stepped out of the room it was transported to and came rushing out.

Well, at least she was enjoying it. He was worried that he had made a bad pick, and wasted a decent amount of money on the game system but now he felt better.

He yawned as he went up the stairs, "Try not to stay up too late, honey. You still got school tomorrow." Not that he minded too much, the school year was almost over and it wouldn't kill her to stay up a little past her bedtime.