disclaimer: THIS IS THE TASTE OF [A LIAR] A NEW CHAPTER!
Also, I had already finished this chapter some time ago, I just couldn't be assed to post it due to various obligations. Second snippet of chapter 5 is already being worked on.
Anyway here's more Jodeci.
The Endless Pursuit of Perfection
Chapter Four: Ultimate Life Form
Everything happened in an instant. I grabbed Lisa, jumped out the window, and a pair of wings sprouted from my back, slowing down my fall.
I need to get Lisa out of here, I thought while I heard Armsmaster and the Dragon suits preparing for the chase.
As soon as we hit the ground, I started running, ripple-enhanced footsteps mixed with flea-based musculature ensuring I take long, leaping strides and making effective distance before they even realize what's going on.
I sneak a look down and see Lisa looking up at me in a confused sort of way as I continue running forward, my brain locking into a specific point: Stronghold Industries, the former Fortress Construction and now running under another one of Lisa's aliases.
Halfway through our escape, I tap Lisa's clothing and give it chameleon DNA, to hide us in plain sight. I slow down in an alley and she alights, clutching her head.
"Are you okay, Lisa?" I ask.
"Not right now, Kath," she replies, biting her lip so hard it draws blood. "Having the mother of all migraines right now."
"Okay. But we have to get going soon, who knows why Dragon and Armsmaster are... hunting... me... down?"
Lisa just collapsed in a heap, and a female figure materialized in front of me, a perfect copy of Auguste Rodin's "The Thinker", except female, and outfitted and armored like an Amazon, with a gladiator's helmet emblazoned with a question mark in front.
You've got to be shitting me, I tell myself as the figure stands up and gestures at me in sign language.
"Five minutes until Lisa wakes up?"
The figure nods.
"Okay, I'll hold the fort here. What can you do?"
She brandishes a pair of flails and collapses a dumpster with a mere swing of one, and I see her smile underneath her helmet.
True to form, Lisa rouses in five minutes, and the figure went back to her previous pose as Lisa stood up.
"Sorry about that, Kath. Never had a thinker headache that bad be... who the heck is this ch—oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."
"No time to explain," I say. "Let's blow this joint. We need to get to safety before anything."
She gave me the barest of nods before jumping onto my back, the figure giving me a smile before disappearing.
We emerged from the alley onto the dockyards, and made quick strides towards the hideout under the Stronghold headquarters, where Lisa moved the Undersiders' main hideout to.
"We've managed to push Hookwolf and the other E88 parahumans back," Acacia told me over the neural link just as I get Lisa home safe.
"Good," I say. "Keep out of trouble for now, the PRT's hunting us down. Don't give them anything that would link you to me."
"Roger that."
I open my eyes and the Undersiders are gathered before me, right after I bring Lisa there.
"So what's the plan now?" Lisa asked Brian. "The PRT saw me with Katherine, they'll no doubt revise their ratings on her."
"Not really," I reply. "We should lie low and gather information, first, about why this happened. Also, Lisa... there's something you need to know about the Thinker behind you – I can still see her."
"Yeah, about that..." Lisa said to her fellows. "Apparently, Katherine here was leaking out so much of her powers that I had this gigantic Thinker headache, and when I woke up, there was this Thinker ghost standing behind me and following me around."
"You'll have to contact the Speedwagon Foundation about that," I say. "They know more about that phenomenon more than I do."
"Will do," Lisa replied. "You guys don't see it?"
Her fellows shook their heads no.
"Well, when the heat dies down, get it looked at by someone from the foundation," I say as I turn to leave.
"Where are you going?" Brian asks me, and I smile.
"Straighten out the mess with the PRT," I reply. "While I still have the momentum on my side, best to explain what's going on."
The other Undersiders returned to their daily activities, and Lisa made a beeline for the computer.
"Wait, Katherine," she tells me. "My back door into the PRT mainframe says that your location was leaked by a Speedwagon Foundation employee."
"That helps a lot," I say. "Thanks, Lisa."
"Don't mention it," the blonde replies. "I'm going to see what this thinker ghost of mine can do, while I'm laying low."
I was walking on the Boardwalk and processing what just happened, talking to the odd voice in my head all the while.
We really need to get some answers from Speedwagon.
That's true, I answer. It seems I've become a blip in their radar, for a very good reason. First, it was Alice with that bomb ghost. Now it's Lisa with the thinker ghost.
Isn't that why you're out in the open and waiting for Dragon and/or Armsmaster to come and give you a nice, friendly chat?
It's more important to engage on my terms rather than theirs. Judging by the way they barged in, they were itching for a brawl.
Maybe the Foundation told them something about us?
Such as...?
You are the definition of perfected potential, the voice in my head explains. The instant mastery of the ripple, the ability to incorporate abilities from various life forms seamlessly into your own... why, I'd wager that your use of our powers has already eclipsed mine. But for argument's sake, call yourself an ultimate life form for now. The details can come later.
I see. So that's why I can parkour: fly precognition, flea movement, dragonfly larvae grip strength...
...I also notice that you primarily employ the abilities of arthopods; I suppose it is a vestige of the part of your brain that allows you to be Taylor Hebert, comatose in Brockton Bay general; Katherine Arsenault here, and Acacia D'Castro with the Travelers.
Yeah, we need to look into that as well.
The phone on our person rings, and strangely enough, it's the PRT Director calling.
"Miss Arsenault."
"Ma'am? I'm on the boardwalk and waiting for your subordinates to come pick me up. Or would you rather I go to the Rig and explain all this?"
"Your presence here would shed some light into a few... bizarre events that have been happening as of late. Have you heard about the crossbow attack on Winslow High School?"
Uh-oh.
"...Not really, no."
"Well, come on in, because there have been a lot of inconsistencies that you might be able to help unravel."
"All right. Expect me there in... ten minutes. No, make that fifteen, ma'am."
"Okay. To avoid making a scene, use the passwords 'antipode' when conversing with the guard at the entrance."
"Roger that, ma'am."
As soon as I replace my phone in my pocket, I break into a dead sprint. Fifteen minutes – I should be able to make it there in time.
As soon as I get to within a kilometer of the rig, I suppress all my abilities save one: my disguise.
Getting there wasn't a problem at all.
However, when the automated doors opened for me, there were several people with those ghosts standing behind them at the lobby, talking.
I head to the counter as inconspicuously as possible, hand over the note, wait a few moments for my guest card, and head to the elevator with no one the wiser – the people with ghosts didn't notice.
Thank goodness for small blessings.
"Well, to be honest, the imposition on your domicile was more of Dragon's initiative than Armsmaster," Director Piggot said, several minutes into our meeting. "I'm not completely sure as to what brought this about, but it's clear they both went in with more firepower than bringing you here to clarify some things warranted."
"I'd like to know what made Dragon that way," I reply magnanimously. "I'd rather straighten out this matter than resort to hostilities, if only because of Dragon's reputation and that this incident has been kept under wraps."
"Parahuman or not, I do know how to keep my friends close, as the quote goes," the director admitted. "I would like to know the cause of Taylor Hebert's death... or disintegration, as the rapporteur from the Speedwagon Foundation indicated."
Well. That's new.
"I will give you a sufficient explanation, Madame Director, if you would allow me a moment to skim through this... Speedwagon Foundation report," I say, and she picks up on my body language before handing me a small folder.
Five seconds in, I see what happened. Figures.
"Okay, this might surprise you a bit," I declare after handing the Director the folder back, and I step up from the chair, move back a bit… and transform to my actual look.
Director Piggot's reaction showed no surprise; she even had a nice grin on her face. Apparently, my transformation solved a puzzle in her mind.
"Well, there is some surprise, but overall, I think it answers a lot of questions," the Director replies, smiling at me. "And for that matter—"
The door is blown open and two people with yellow lightning on their arms stand in the doorway.
"Director! We detected a powerful P-reading! Are you all right?" one of them said.
"That's the girl who disintegrated! Did she become a zombie?" the other one asked.
Several tense moments passed. I couldn't transform nor use my armor or Ripple, and the Director was close by. That was too big a risk. Nor could I call on animal traits to help me, as it would probably goad them to attack further. What to do, what to do...
Director Emily Piggot sighed loudly, breaking the standoff.
"Mr. Joestar, Mr. Zeppeli, I can assure you that Miss Hebert is not the cause for concern you deem her as. And what is with your branding her a Teacher-level parahuman criminal?"
"You, well, and her... uh"
"She uses the Ripple even better and she teaches others, and..."
The sound of the PRT Director's hand smacking on the table shuts them up instantly.
"The two of you have not made a good enough entrance to justify me calling a meeting and straightening this matter out with everyone involved. Since you have called this an S-level alert, isn't it important that we cool our heads first instead of taking action so impulsively?"
The two men nodded.
"We'll speak later. For now, go to Armsmaster and say that Ms. Hebert and Ms. Arsenault will turn themselves in for a meeting at a properly-scheduled time, so we can talk things over like proper adults. Am I understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Joestar and Zeppeli answered.
"Now leave my office."
As soon as they went, I turned to the Director.
"S-Rank?"
"They showed me records of their battles with an entity that called itself an Ultimate Life Form. You've shown abilities that were similar to that, so I had Armsmaster talk to you. Unfortunately, those two got to Dragon first, and here we are."
"My apologies."
"Don't be," the Director said. "You, at least, have the good sense not to mess up my office. Good doors are so hard to find these days... but no matter. How soon are you available for a meeting with the Speedwagon Foundation to explain things?"
"Maybe this coming weekend," I reply.
"All right. Oh, and one final thing," the Director said. "I've done some investigation into your trigger event and the incident at Winslow, Miss Hebert. Our PR department has also swept the matter of the Foundation under the rug: official story is, they brought you here, you woke up here, Arsenault is in the wind."
"Thank you very much, ma'am," I say.
"I think it is you we should thank more," the Director admitted. "You'll understand more in time. For now, let us meet again on the weekend."
"Roger that," and I walk up to her and shake her hand, using a bit of my Ripple to flush out the toxins from her body before I leave.
I'm back to being Taylor Hebert.
Katherine is on the back burner for now.
Didn't know getting rid of idiots in the PRT would end up paying me dividends in the long run.
Anyway, with the advent of the Travelers and Undersiders going legit and strengthening Brockton Bay's hero population, the gangs have all lain low, and from what I heard, Kenta and Alice are sweeping their own unsavory elements out of the association altogether.
Alice called me complaining about the work load, but she said that the ABB will also be shifting from villainous to neutral when they were finished cleaning up.
At any rate, I was halfway home on my bus ride when a little girl entered and took up a seat next to me.
"Hi," she said, extending a hand when the bus started to move. "I'm Dinah."
"Taylor," I reply, taking it and shaking it.
"I knew it," she whispered, "you're that hero who saved me."
I get over my surprise immediately.
"The person who tried to kidnap you won't be a problem anymore," I reply quietly.
"That's not why I'm here," Dinah replied. "I'll tell you when you get home."
All of my thinking cause the bus ride to pass by in a veritable blur, and when Dinah and I alight at our stop, she nods, and what looks like a gigantic bundle of purple muscle materializes from behind her.
"Not too long after we met, I fell ill," Dinah replied. "When my fever broke, I found this guy hovering close to me. You can see him, can't you?"
I nod dumbly.
"Say hello to 'Everlong'," Dinah says, and the muscular purple [Stand] nods at me before taking a very fabulous pose.
Well crud, she even has the poses down right.
I am vaguely reminded of the strange things that have been going on in town since my awakening as something more than just a parahuman, and that this is just the beginning. Crazier... no, more bizarre events are due from here on out, I just know it.
But first, I need to introduce Dinah to my dad, who has missed me these couple weeks due to the crossbow attack on Winslow.
Is there something wrong with me that the fear I had when going to school is now... gone?
All of the things that have been happening to me lately all look like they took place in a blur.
Which is why when I found myself waking up to my alarm clock, in my room, I found myself severely disoriented.
I padded to the bathroom, wiped the mist from the mirror, and took a good look at myself.
I was once again in my original form: Taylor Hebert.
But the girl looking back at me wasn't the same Taylor that was doing this very same thing the day of the locker. Instead of hiding within myself, I was looking out at the world with a calm confidence, unashamed of who or what I was.
Ironic since I could use my powers to transform into an armored fighter that threw Ripple-powered blows, and I also could use the traits of any living being as I pleased, even modifying them on the fly.
Since the locker, I had helped several parahumans, fought several others, foiled a kidnapping attempt, took care of some outside context problems, went to another country to rescue a soon-to-be-brainwashed parahuman, and met the nice people from the Speedwagon Foundation, which appears to have more information about me than I know myself.
But that business would be done in the weekend. Today is a Tuesday. And memorable things happen on Tuesdays, even if one of them doesn't remember it.
I step out of the shower and dry myself off before opening my wardrobe, and my eyebrows furrow before I let out a snort of annoyance.
This was me then.
This isn't me now.
I wrap myself up with a towel and make my way to the guest room, where Mom's outfits were kept. Despite remembering her as a reliable and run-of-the-mill parent, those photographs of her and my Dad back in her college days indicated otherwise.
The smell of moth balls permeated my nostrils as I opened the chest of drawers, revealing old shirts and jeans that my mother used to wear, when she was still young, impressionable, and ran with a parahuman villain named Lustrum.
It takes me less than a minute to pick out an ensemble I like, and I go back to my room and fish out some of the accessories I had from a few years ago.
I look at the mirror once I apply the finishing touches to my outfit, and I smile.
It is everything I am now; an expression of just how fabulous the past few months of my life have been.
Dad naturally gapes when I descend the stairs for breakfast, and wordlessly passes a plate with bacon and eggs to me, and I dig in as soon as I thank him and say grace.
Today is going to be magnificent.
No, it's going to be fabulous.
I was accustomed to jogging to school then, and I haven't changed that habit now.
It seems that once my body has made contact with an item of clothing, it catalogs and stores it when not in use, for me to put on at a later time. So it is with a lot of ease that I jog the distance from home to Winslow in my usual pants-and-hoodie combo, taking long and easy strides while finding the stark beauty in the parahuman-ravaged city of Brockton Bay.
You'll rise again, some day. Even if I have to be the one to drag you out of this morass myself.
My thoughts about Brockton Bay come to an end when I enter the halls of Winslow without breaking my stride, moving to my locker and opening it to see its contents ravaged by what looks like some sort of acid.
I don't have time to deal with this, so I just procure the pen and notebook I brought, head over to one of the bathrooms, into a stall, and emerge in my actual outfit: a ruffled shirt in black that's supposed to be midriff-baring but is over a three-quarter length-sleeved skintight shirt in white up top, stripped jeans over stockings, and worn but comfortable sneakers.
Don't bother counting the accessories I have on or thinking how much they cost, they're just gold-painted.
As soon as I exit the bathroom and hear the bell ring, I don't walk to my classroom.
I swagger.
And students look.
Oh yes, they indeed look at me.
Because whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother you're staying alive.
I part the sea of Winslow students like I'm a prophet from legend as I stride to my destination, the sneakers drawing attention from the way I swing my legs when I walk, now.
It's refreshing.
In a way, it's like I'm making the statement "I got shoved in a locker and got three crossbow bolts in center mass, and I'm still here, looking better than ever!"
I spot one of the trio gawking at me: Madison Clements, and I raise my ridiculous heart-shaped glasses to my forehead so she can see me wink at her before concealing my eyes once more and turn to the classroom where the first period of the school day will be held.
Although I project an aura of cool indifference and confidence, I am quite wary that the Trio will strike sometime within this school day.
Nearly all of the day passes by, and just as everyone is dismissed, I find three girls awaiting my classroom exit. Predictable, really.
"Well, look who the cat dragged in."
"She's really gone off her rocker this time."
"They should have dragged you to the Principal, Hebert. You've gone insane."
They see one of my eyebrows inch above my sunglasses.
I smile at them.
"You know, being away from Winslow for a while helped me out a bit. I mean, even then, I didn't care much about what the three of you keep saying. Now, though? I don't care at all."
Sophia steps into my personal space, but with a quick twist on the balls of my feet, she ends up nearly smacking her head onto one of the lockers, only stopping at the last moment.
"I mean, really, I asked myself if I wanted to spend the rest of my time here hanging onto your every word? And surprisingly, the answer came out 'no'."
"You're prey, Taylor. Always have been, always will be," Emma replied, though I could sense her beginning to sweat and her heart beating faster. For that matter, the other two are, as well. It looked like I was the one being cornered, but no, I'm not the one in fight or flight mode.
"See, that's the thing," I say. "For predators, you three seem woefully incompetent. Bully me for the good part of a year? Got through it. Shove me in a locker full of gunk? Got through it. Take three bolts in the chest?"
My smile widens as they take a step back from me.
"I'm still here. And for all your predatory rhetoric, you fail to account for one thing."
My voice drops down to a whisper.
"I'm fucking invincible."
I don't bother to see how they react, because I turn and walk away, waving to them as I leave Winslow and head home; Lisa, Noelle and Alice need to hear about this.
I step out of school knowing that I've thrown down the gauntlet. Either they realize what they're doing is [useless], or one of them does something really stupid – even more stupid than shooting at me with a crossbow in school in broad fucking daylight.
When I hear Sophia screaming in the background, I chuckle to myself. Not my fault you're using the rope I'm giving you to make a noose. It's your choice to climb out of the hole you've dug yourselves into.
Despite my grand return to Winslow as Taylor Hebert, I am still able to live a double life as Acacia, and I can change to Katherine if the need arises, not counting our armored forms as Knight Blazer and Obelisk, respectively.
What's even funnier is that Uber and Leet decided to join forces with the Travelers – who, despite their name, have already done quite a good job settling into Brockton Bay as independent heroes of their own.
If they're not defending the Dockyards, the two previously-thought-of low-tier supervillains spent their time choreographing fight scenes, directing action sequences, and having the Travelers either act out or assist – their independent film works are beginning to make waves nationwide.
Or maybe it was because they were smitten with Acacia the Knight Blazer, and would often team up with her on patrols (this was actually how they joined the Travelers, funnily enough).
Dinah still lives with her parents, and she says that since acquiring Everlong, the intensity and duration of her headaches has gone down drastically. After dinner with Dad, she made her offer: if I were to put together a group of independent parahumans, she would be the first one in line to join.
I reluctantly gave her my consent, but advised her to wait a few weeks so that she could go to the PRT and/or the Speedwagon Foundation to get her and Everlong looked at.
Since scaring the Undersiders straight, they – Lisa, mostly – took control over Coil's mercenaries and are now working as an independent PMC.
I write down my thoughts on the last page of my diary: the smoking gun I planned to pass to prove the things Emma and the others were doing to me.
I shut the diary and think: it doesn't matter anymore. I'm free.
All this good happening in so short a time; the other shoe's bound to drop anytime soon, the crossbow attack on me notwithstanding.
And sure enough, it does, the moment a crossbow bolt crashes into my bedroom window. I am out of our house in moments, only to be confronted by the Ward Shadow Stalker, standing on the street and itching for a fight.
"You've got a lot of guts pulling this shit off, Sophia," I say, Ripple crackling across my body as I assume my armored form. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat you to within two inches of your life, drag you to Amy, and have her heal you only for me to beat you within one."
She lowers the crossbow to the ground and raises her arms in surrender.
"I didn't shoot you back then."
I snort, the vents in my helmet causing a small gust of wind to blow out.
"Maybe, but that was your crossbow. Besides," I ask, the blade from my arm emerging, "there's this old saying: never bullshit a bullshitter. Not very predatory of you, throwing whoever shot me under the bus."
"It was Emma. She knows where I stash my weapons."
My retort to her admission was a humorless laugh.
"And you're going to me instead of the PRT. Once again, not very… predatory of you, Sophia. Is that little hitch in your voice the first hints of… fear I'm hearing?"
I take a step forward, and I can see her knees beginning to shake.
"Or are you... dare I say this, asking for my help?"
She couldn't move.
"I'm going to give you the one-word answer: no. Why would I go out of my way to help out one of the three people who took it upon themselves to fuck me over?"
Shadow Stalker took a hissing breath before she replied.
"I was the one who turned Emma against you," she grit out, the words feeling like ashes in her mouth she just had to get rid of, "And I'm sorry, all right? It's just that this is a matter of life and death!"
The helmet comes off.
"Just like the locker, and the crossbow…" I reply, my Ripple-saturated eyes seeing through her. "Pretty sure you wouldn't come out of it unscathed like I did, so... sucks to be you, I guess. Now why don't you run to the good people of the PRT and tell them about your predicament? Pretty sure prey doesn't protect predators."
I gathered Ripple into my hands and smacked my palm with my fist, remembering the note I palmed on Sophia when she tried to tackle me earlier in the day: "I still have the bolts, Sophia", and I was expecting vindication to come with a giant parade and confetti, not a nighttime discussion with someone who already knows who you are under the mask.
"You have a better shot throwing your lot in with them than me... now get lost."
She picked up her crossbow and left.
I never saw her again after that.
Emma and Madison didn't show up to school the day after, too.
I never really bothered to figure out what happened to them... let what is past stay in the past.
Besides, with them out of the way, it's one – no, three – less worries on my mind.
I would only find out their fate much, much later.
Of course, given my luck, three days into their disappearance, I was sent to Blackwell's office, where I was placed in a veritable Spanish Inquisition as to where three of their fine and upstanding students went.
They called my entire suite of acquaintances: Dad, Greg, other classmates, even Emma's family, trying to figure out where their "precious daughter" ended up in, and it kind of disturbed me that I could not honestly answer their questions, because I really didn't know.
And given that I already know the connection between Sophia Hess and Shadow Stalker, before I was due to meet with the Speedwagon Foundation, I was brought to a meeting room and subjected to the same thing, but instead of a straitlaced high school principal, it was the head of the Protectorate asking me about the last time I saw Shadow Stalker.
I give them the abridged version of the midnight encounter, saying that I warned Shadow Stalker off, and that she crossed a line going after my civilian identity, even if it was to ask for help.
"That wasn't very heroic of you," Armsmaster said after I give my account.
"Not every hero is Dudley-Do-Right. I have issues with Shadow Stalker, and driving her away was the most I could do without actually escalating to violence," I explain. "I DO have history with the missing girls too, you know."
"You haven't gone after them? Not once?" Armsmaster asked, and I shake my head.
"It would be so easy to," I reply, taking a deep breath before maneuvering the conversation towards my trigger event. "But I made my choice to carry on despite the three of them continuing to harass me after that incident in January."
I could sense the hero's surprise at how forthright and detached my admission was. The question though, was this because I did not want to be the Taylor before I triggered, or because was I already so much more than the Taylor before, that something like this was beneath me completely?
The Protectorate hero sensed my apprehension.
"If they do show up again, contact us immediately," he says. "You have my card."
"...Am I free to go?"
"For now," Armsmaster answers. "This has been quite difficult for you, so if you wish to reschedule your appointment with the Foundation..."
I stand up and smile at the hero. "I'm tougher than most. Don't worry too much."
With that, I make for the door, and the guards let me through, guiding me towards the temporary office of the Speedwagon Foundation where my interview about my odd powers would lead me to understand a bit more about who and what I really was.
"Taylor Hebert," I say, extending my hand to the same two gentlemen who had knocked over Director Piggot's office door.
"John James Joestar," the dark-haired one says, his movements limited by the fancy suit being worn as he shakes my hand. "Call me JJ, but Mr. Joestar is fine, too."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Joestar," I say before holding out my hand towards the blond.
"Nero Claudius Zepelli," he says, moving stiffly as well due to the suit as he shakes my hand. "Hmm. My old man Tiberius is the Mr. Zepelli back at the main office, so just call me Nero."
"All right then, Nero," I say, and we are seated in one of the smaller conference rooms. The two men exchange a look before turning back to me.
"All right, first things first," JJ begins, gesturing towards the projector, where a series of images in the Mexican rainforest were displayed. "The first time the Foundation ran into something we called a Pillar Man was around just before the Second World War. These were humans who had the capability of hibernating in a rock-like state for centuries or even millennia at a time."
More slides, showing a trio of muscular men. "These were the Pillar Men we fought against: Extreme, Alias, and Velvet Revolver. Their objective was to remove their weakness to sunlight..."
The slides continued, and more pictures were shown.
"…and we barely managed to succeed, because the device they needed ultimately malfunctioned," JJ finished, returning to his chair and fixing his eyes on me. "Which brings us to you."
Nero showed some video of me assisting the Travelers.
"Based on what we deciphered from the documents of Niju Matchbox – the last Pillar Man – their completed form not only lost the weakness to sunlight, but also unparalleled and near-instantaneous learning ability and mastery over life itself, to the point where their theorized Ultimate Life Form can take on the abilities of multiple living creatures and use them quickly, flawlessly, and innovatively."
He took a deep breath.
"My grandfather Augustus gave his very life to ensure the Pillar Men would not endanger humankind. But with what we've seen from you... you check all the boxes required for an Ultimate Life Form. However, we at the Foundation are at a very strange junction: your character is nowhere near that of the Pillar Men – you are heroic, though a bit unscrupulous. Tell us: how did you gain this power?"
I smile coquettishly at the two.
"It would be very bad form for me to decline, because you have implied that we shall have an equivalent exchange of information, do we not?"
They look a bit confused.
"I've gained a lot of insight from your story. Courtesy says I should give you mine; so I shall answer your question. I have to wonder, though, given your understanding of trigger events..."
JJ was quick to smile at me, while Nero gave me a thoughtful look.
"That's unprecedented," he admits. "You gained ultimate power during what parahuman research calls a trigger event?"
"Pardon me if I am loath to discuss the details with you," I say, nodding and confirming his suspicions.
"All right, then," Nero continued. "According to our notes here, trigger events often come with a psychedelic vision. If you can tell us what you remember seeing in the vision – and only in the vision – that will be really helpful to us."
"I'll do my best," I say, and when I turn my head to the side, JJ is holding a sketchbook and color pencils.
Seriously?
The voice inside me laughs at how the interview is going.
Thirty mind-boggling minutes later, JJ and Nero take me to one of the rooms they use for power testing, and a man in a lab coat walks over to us – I can see the faint outline of a pink humanoid hovering behind him.
"You've made good timing," the man declared. "We just finished setting up the Ripple reading equipment for testing Miss Hebert."
"Okay...?" I ask, and upon seeing my confusion, JJ steps back and takes off his suit jacket, placing it on a chair while he pulls the tie off and undoes the top button on his shirt to breathe easier.
"Right, Taylor, this is something we made to measure Ripple aptitude for people. Everyone in the Foundation can use the Ripple, so we train them regularly to maximize what they can do. This glass dome contains and quantifies the potency of the Ripple you use. Let me demonstrate."
JJ breathes, and thrusts an empty palm forward to the glass dome. Yellow lightning crackles, and the machinery displays a graph, showing medium power but very high control.
"Your turn," he says, and guides me to the machine.
"Just do what feels natural, this isn't a combat test, some of our fighters have dented the machine by going all-out, which made the final reading inaccurate, so they had to do it again," Nero notes to me.
"All right, here I go," I say, and I copy JJ's stance, breathe...
...and I push my palm forward, my own Ripple crackling along my hand.
"That's… that's unheard of," Nero gasps, and I see the machinery displaying a graph showing astronomical power and surgical control, "she really IS an ultimate life form!"
"Uh... Sorry?" I ask, and the man in the lab coat laughs.
"Don't be!" he says. "Until now, Ultimate Life Forms were thought to be a myth by our researchers. You just confirmed what we were all thinking. So nice and humble, too, unlike those delinquents I have to work with!"
"Taylor Hebert," I say.
"I already know," he says, and eyes my hand for a good few seconds before shaking it. "Kira. Yoshikage Kira. Before you make a comment, my mother and that girl Alice's mother are cousins."
The pink humanoid behind him snaps its fingers because of its wielder's joy.
"By the way, before you leave, could you return here?"
"Sure thing," I say, bewildered, before an equally dumbfounded JJ and Nero motion me back to their office.
"First of all, we're going to start by apologizing," JJ begins when we are again seated in the Foundation office. "The only encounters we had with Pillar Men were hostile, so we were a bit on guard. Imagine our shock when the Pillar Man and/or Ultimate Life Form we run into is actually a teenage girl who moonlights as a hero! Guess all our fears were for nothing."
"What this oaf said," Nero continues, "and more. The caretakers of the Kujo estate were the ones who first vouched for your character when the news broke that you helped the family heiress Alice from her own parahuman problem."
My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets in surprise. "Heiress?!"
JJ nodded. "The Speedwagon Foundation is a close-knit business; a lot of us here are related by blood or by battle. Alice Imai is the last of the Kujo bloodline. Nero and I are second-born, so we're not tasked to throw out our wild oats just like my grandfather did. Another thing about your status as an Ultimate Life Form – which you need to keep a secret, no ifs, ands or buts – is that you can share our proprietary knowledge of the Ripple with others. Haven't you noticed that the Ripple comes to you as easily as breathing?"
Nero jabs his fellow in the side with an elbow, getting him to yelp and me to chuckle.
"Sorry, that was unintentional. Anyway," he continues, "there won't be any problems with the Foundation if you have a discerning eye as to who you will teach the Ripple to. It's also a perk of being an Ultimate Life Form – your intelligence and perception will allow you to mentally digest difficult concepts and rephrase them in a way that ordinary people can handle. It won't just be the Ripple, but other things as well. By the way, have you been noticing ghostly people hovering behind some of us?"
I nod warily.
"Another theory confirmed," Nero says with a smile. "We've yet to complete the association between the Ripple and Stands, and you've helped us yet again."
"Stands? What are those?"
"You've already seen them. They are spiritual manifestations of their wielder, often with their own powers. It's a long story to explain; we've already briefed Alice on the basics, she can get you up to speed on what we already know."
"But be warned," JJ says, his jovial tone becoming serious, "that Stands and Stand users tend to converge. You can sense them, don't you? They are awakening here in Brockton Bay."
"Which is why we're going to give you probationary membership in the Foundation, so that if you spot a rogue Stand user within this city, you can communicate with this Stand user on our behalf and possibly add to our roster of investigators of stand-related phenomena," Nero continues. "And we'd also love an Ultimate Life Form on our team, I won't lie. So... are you in?"
"Never thought you'd ask," I say, and shake their hands.
After signing the necessary paperwork, I remember my appointment with Yoshikage Kira, and pass by his laboratory for a while.
"Dr. Yoshikage?"
I open the office to see him with a generous amount of molding clay in his hands.
"Ah, I thought you'd never come," he said. "I have but a small favor to ask."
"What kind of favor is it?"
"When I am not doing work for the Foundation, I run a horror-themed shop. Fake masks, rubber hands, Halloween costumes, the works. I see you have a very pretty set of hands – do you mind if I make a mold them to make a rubber copy of, for my shop?"
I flash the doctor a thousand-watt smile.
"Go right ahead, Dr. Yoshikage."
I notice that he has the smile of a Bodhisattva during the entire time he encases both my hands in molding clay, and when he finishes his molding of each of my hands, it looks like his consciousness took a trip to seventh heaven and returned with a t-shirt.
"Thank you," he says, his voice quavering with unexpected veneration. "Thank you very much."
"Will I see you around here again, Doctor?" I ask.
"The Foundation has need for my... special talents, especially now, in a city like this. I am not quite convinced that the phenomenon here is the same as the Stands we catalog... there needs to be more research done. Anyway, thank you again, Miss Hebert."
He guides me out of his office in a very dignified manner, and I am left wondering the cause of this even as I start the long bus ride home.
When I do, it is already dark, and Dad has not yet returned from his Docks job. I check our answering machine, and am quite surprised to hear a forwarded message to me from Alice.
"Heya, Kath. Turns out my Stand's name isn't Pentacle Page after all – it's Explosions in the Sky," her message began. "Anyway, Mr. Takahashi is keeping me busy until I can go back to school. I've got a free day tomorrow at the Boardwalk, so I'll be waiting for you at the corner of Parian's boutique from ten to ten-thirty tomorrow morning. Hope to see you there!"
Click.
Though I am at peace with today's revelations, something else bothers me: is the sudden rise of Stands and the disappearance of the trio related?
Those thoughts carry me to a fitful sleep, and I don't bother waiting for Dad to come home.
As soon as I alight from the Boardwalk bus, I am expecting to have a quiet day talking with Alice, but all that is rent asunder when a beam of light blows up Parian's shop.
I see Alice out of the corner of my eye, with her Stand Explosions carrying an unconscious Parian, and sweep my vision upward to see a woman of light hovering above the chaos she created.
It looks like a heroine's job is never over, I tell myself as I dash to the shadows and emerge as Katherine, Alice spotting me immediately and making her way to my location.
In the meantime, I'm already using my flea modifications on my legs to leap up, the armor around my body forming as the panicking townsfolk ignore me.
The glowing woman finds me too late as I tackle her out of the sky and onto the ground, but before I can get a good hit in, she blasts me away. I recover at the same time she does, and as I hold my arm blade at the ready, I can't help but ask the question.
"What's all this about?"
"You wouldn't understand, Obelisk," the woman of light replies.
She doesn't see me smirk under the mask.
"All right," I say, "Try and make me."
I dodge the first blast, and I'm on my way towards her, fists wound up for a punch…
Chapter 4 - END
Author's notes: For those curious about Taylor's new outfit, google "tsurumaki kokoro happy happy revolution", now visualize adding a three-quarter-length sleeve skintight undershirt to it - that's it.
Also, if you're wondering how Taylor remembers the trigger vision with clarity, it's because of the mental improvement given to her by becoming an Ultimate Life Form.
Have an omake to tide you over until I cough out Chapter 5, most likely over the holidays.
"...you don't understand. Our business group depends on my son and my partner's daughter..."
"Shut up," Taylor cut her off with enough venom and deadly intent in her voice that the businesswoman became quiet immediately. "Instead of going to the Foundation to try and work something out, you use your child as a bargaining piece, and belittle his choice as a 'gold digger' or 'someone without class', when the person in front of me is the very definition of classless: someone who loves things and uses people. Not just people, I might add, her only son, too. And don't bother going after him. I took him to the Foundation with a copy of all your business transactions and recordings showing just how much of a heartless bitch you are. And yes, he's with that girl, too. Far away from you."
She smacked her fist onto her open palm.
"I'm no angel, but I can be content with knowing I'm not as disgusting a human being as you. And being a good person..."
A blue man in Aztec-inspired finery burst forth from behind her.
"...ISN'T SOMETHING YOU CAN BUY WITH MONEY!"
The next thirty seconds became pain for the former CEO of the Domyouji group as Star Platinum pummeled her in a constant barrage of punches, all the while shouting "ORA ORA ORA ORA!"
The final punch embedded her in the wall, and Taylor took a sheet of paper, writing on it before letting it float away, towards the woman she just beat to an inch of her life using Star Platinum.
"Here's your [receipt]."
Taylor Hebert