Disclaimer: I do not own Worm or the Monster Hunter Series
First off, huge shout-out to Roffster (found on both SB and SV)for betaing and proofreading the chapters.
So, I've found a good cut-off point in the start of the new "arc" and thought people over here on FF wouldn't mind a "smaller" chapter.
gabe. .1997 her shard is acting as a dimensional conduit to the complete world monster hunter which, for the sake for this fic at least, is another parallel earth who had its divergence point quite early compared to earth Bet and Aleph. I've written a more complete explanation in the Spacebattles thread I've linked in the first chapter.
I would suggest that the impatient amongst you visit either Spacebattles or Sufficientvelocity anyway. It's where I first post the individual chapters due to the ease of correcting and the way how direct interaction with readers are possible.
One last thing, there's a fight scene in the middle with some mildly graphical imagery. Nothing too explicit or really bad in my eyes but I know everyone's tolerance is different. Thought it only fair to give the squeamish amongst you small heads-up.
Enjoy
Friday started out as an absolute rollercoaster after I had escaped Lung. Getting home and back into my bed without being noticed was easy enough. I even had a couple of dreams colored by happy anticipation over the Tinkering I could do for cheaper than Dad would have expected.
It wasn't the best armor I'd ever make by a long shot, but it was a start. I could simply handwave the sudden influx of extra raw materials to the felynes. Lying to him wouldn't feel great but, somehow, people not in my immediate area didn't seem to actually notice the cats as anything more than that, which was a bit strange. I haven't seen that many house tigers running around in - more or less - organized formations and at the very least equipped with a crude pickaxe. Maybe I simply hadn't gotten out enough and it had become a trend somehow. I saw more than a few bystanders cooing over the little guys without anyone being alarmed.
Anyhow, even though I didn't want to start my life as a Cape by keeping even more secrets from Dad, I knew that he would only get scared by what happened. He was finally on the mend. I would lie to keep it that way if necessary. The same if I were to go bankrupt due to my tinkering. It was my problem and it was my responsibility to deal with it.
Cats were a simple explanation that couldn't be disproven too easily. Well, not unless the cats started talking English.
I dreamt of riding on the back of an angry, thrashing, green dinosaur while stabbing it in the back repeatedly with my knife. It was a good dream.
Sadly, the good mood couldn't last.
Dad woke me up just as I was about to carve into the severed tail by practically storming in my room.
"Taylor," He said somewhat strained and. "I have Armsmaster on the line downstairs. He's asking for you. What has happened? He wouldn't tell me."
"whah?" Was all I could manage while carefully disentangling myself from underneath the sheets with only minimal tearing damage.
Why would the Tinker of Brockton Bay want to call me in the morning anyway? Did the Transpurrter cause some sort of mischief or something?
And why would he call on a landline if he could just…
Right, I knew I had forgotten something. Must have forgotten to charge my very first cell phone I had since Wednesday and then it died on me.
Oops.
To be fair, it should have lasted more than barely two days…
"Your hair," Dad whispered in shock, derailing my ideas of integrating an electro sac into the bloody thing when I could get my hand on one. "Why is your hair burned? Did you sneak out to forge something; but that wouldn't explain Armsmaster. Taylor, please say something."
What about my hair wha- Huh?
I gingerly touched my hair and was met by a frizzled strand of hair and traced the irregular ends of my hair around head. A couple of chunks were apparently burned away and more patches disintegrated under my touch.
That motherfucker.
For now, just run with the forge excuse and deal with the rest later. "Yep, I suddenly had a great idea and couldn't sleep so – "
"You didn't even warn me nor did you show your latest invention to me?" A vein on his forehead began to throb gently. "Bullshit. You've been way too proud of your knife to not show me your next invention and on Tuesday you were just fine handling molten metal near raging fires anyway. What really happened?"
It was time for plan B. "Well, the idea was actually for a forge of my own… design… with…" I petered off under the weight of his skeptical gaze.
"You fought someone or something, didn't you?"
"Yes," I admitted, defeated.
Hurt lanced through Dad. "And considering your reluctance it wasn't some monster or else you'd be showing me its wishbone or something. Who was it? Who tried to burn you?"
I thought that if I beat around the bushes long enough, I might think of a more palatable explanation than "I fought Lung, but only for a very short time, I swear!"
Why did the bastard have to go make it personal? I was a nobody and a couple of love taps was no reason to burn my hair which led to this situation where I had to either lie convincingly (something I failed at spectacularly) or scare the shit out of him.
… Would anyone miss Lung in the first place? He would provide some pretty nice materials if I could deal with him. The latter would be a bit of a problem, though…
I tore myself out of happy thoughts of potential murder and deployed plan BS. "Well, I wanted to collect enough metal to make my armor so I went to the Boat Graveyard – I made sure not to be spotted – and everything went okay at first but – "
Dad blanched, shocking realization clearly written on his face. "It was Lung wasn't it? Are you hurt? did you have enough Potion? We can drive to the hospital otherwise and have Panacea fix you up. Just let me – "
"Dad, I'm fine. Really. Please, calm down. He didn't hit me once. The hair probably happened from a dodge or, hell, I might have messed up getting the iron."
Dad crossed the distance between the door and me in two steps and tightly hugged my sitting and bewildered form. "Thank goodness. Don't scare me like that. Not again. Are you really sure you're all right?"
"Truly," I replied returning the hug, trying to take away some of the pain I had caused. Again.
"What did he want anyway and what madness came over you that made you fight him?"
"For one reason or another, he wanted me for ABB. I objected. He didn't take it well." I tried to shrug. It didn't work out that great in his embrace that ever so slightly resembled a death grip.
"How did you get away then? Isn't he the one who fought the entire Brockton Protectorate to a standstill?"
"Well, I knocked him on the head, threw a Dung Bomb in his face, blinded him, and ran away."
Dad winced. "Is this going to be a problem?"
"No? Maybe. Probably. I better start looking to ally myself with either the Wards or another group for added protection."
"And you haven't done so why? What is the matter with the Wards anyway? Why not join them? You seemed to like the ones you've met Wednesday well enough."
"I'll think about it but, in all likelihood, no. Like I've told you before I don't want to sully the investigation and will have to wait for -"
Dad pushed me away slightly and looked into my eyes becoming cold.
"I get that you're stubborn, how couldn't you be with the man who tries to keep the Dockworker's Union afloat these days, but you aren't stupid." His broiling anger made his hands tighten around my shoulders. "One of your tormentors was a Ward, wasn't she? It's the only reason I can think of why you'd still be so hesitant about it after facing Lung. Who you only encountered because you needed resources they could easily provide. You dreamt being a hero ever since you first saw Alexandria on TV. You still have that lunchbox Annette and I bought you."
"You know I can't talk about the details, Dad." I retorted weakly.
A snarl grew on Dad's face. "It was Shadow Stalker, wasn't it? It sure is convenient that she suddenly went rogue around the same time those monsters enacted their sick plan. Did Armsmaster know about this perversion of everything they're supposed to stand for?"
The vein on his forehead throbbed with barely contained rage. "I don't think he knew about it, Dad. He seemed far too angry for it to be anything other than an honest reaction."
"At least that's something," Dad grumbled as he began to calm down again.
"And I don't think the rest are bad or anything, but I just want…need this issue to be resolved before I'm ever going to feel comfortable joining the Wards."
"I understand," Dad said after taking a deep breath and pulling me back into a hug. "Just don't keep secrets from me anymore, all right?"
"I'll try." I felt his gaze bore into me with renewed vigor. "Well, I don't know when I'll come across the next bit of classified information. I didn't feel like making unkeepable promises."
Not telling him about the full extent of my powers felt bad enough already without it making me even more a liar.
Dad sighed. "Fine. I guess we'll have to look for other groups. Do you think the New Wave would take you?"
"If Glory Girl is any indication? I'd be in immediately as soon as I asked. I mean, I have the whole 'public Cape' thing down already." I chuckled imagining how much I'd stand out when compared with the light based independent hero group. Spikes of doom wouldn't really fit the white color motive they rocked, and neither would the vast majority of weapons I could make. Something about accountability, moderation of force, and all that good stuff.
We both remained silent and simply enjoying each other's embrace. We really had had a deficit of those.
It also gave me a bit time to think about the mysterious phone call from Armsmaster.
I was pretty sure he couldn't know about the fight.
Besides Lung at the end, very few people should have seen me. Considering the god-forsaken hour and the place, I really doubted that anyone could have put anything online that wouldn't be dismissed as wild rumors.
People would likely think I was still injured from the tail strike that maccao gave me anyway. It had been too dark for the encounter to be filmed from a distance I wouldn't notice and I severely doubted that Lung would want any of this online. So he or his flunkies would also be out of the equation.
I mean, getting literal, high-grade shit thrown into your face and then allowing a freshly triggered cape get away wasn't something a crime lord would want to advertise; respect and everything.
The rest of the potential eyewitness were likely addicts and I didn't think they'd have easy access to computers. At least not those who were out that god damned early.
I couldn't help but notice that dad still hadn't let me go.
"Uhm, Dad, isn't Armsmaster still on the line downstairs? Shouldn't I go talk to him like, ten minutes ago?"
"Screw him, I still need a bit more or else I fear I'll strangle someone for allowing all of this to happen. Likely multiple people. Starting with him if he dares to complain. I was this close to losing you without even knowing what happened. Again."
I patted his back. "I'd have been okay, Dad. The felynes would have managed to get me out no matter what. Besides, I'm sturdier than I look."
"That's no reason to be reckless. I saw the fight against those raptors. It almost looked like you didn't care about what could happen to you. Just like you didn't mind breaking your own damned arm just to make a point. It scares me.
"Fine, I'll try to be more careful in the future. This armor will be the first thing directly helping me to survive blows and stuff."
"I'm glad to hear that. Though, just so you know, you're hereby grounded." Wait, what?
"Why?" I managed to utter, disentangling myself from the prolonged hug.
"Besides the reckless endangerment behind my back?"
"But…"
"Don't make me install motion sensors covering all possible escape routes. I know people who'd happily lend them to me and am more than willing to ask them if that's what it takes to make you stay put."
Fuck. "Fine."
"Also did you really believe I'd be stupid enough to not notice whatever amount of steel you harvested? How did you see that work out, by the way?"
"I would have told you the felynes brought some extra," I admitted in a small voice.
"Also, I'm also retracting your internet privileges until further notice."
"What? How can I answer questions if they pop up? What if people find out about the whole Lung thing and have questions? I might even miss a recruitment offer!"
"I'll take care of all of that. Am I clear?"
"Fine. Anything else, Satan?"
He chuckled. "Just one thing, how did you harvest that metal and why would it burn your hair."
"I, uhm, simply bashed the side of some rusty boat with the gun hammer and there was some molten metal flying around so I thought that…" In hindsight, that really wasn't the best way to get metal.
Dad agreed with that assessment if his laughter was any indication.
"Yeah, I can imagine that that would burn some stuff. Now go, see what that supposed hero has to tell you."
I stomped off to the living room, dimly aware that Dad followed me and booted up the computer as if out of spite.
"Taylor," I spoke moments later after picking up the phone from the table. It was a corded one dad bought after the crappy wireless one we had earlier died on him one too many times during a phone call.
At least that what he told me then. I long since suspected that it simply reminded him too much of a cellphone. Either way, it didn't matter much. Neither of us really was a pacer and it wasn't like I received many calls.
Not after Emma.
The rhythmic and explosive exhales accompanied by a faint swooshing sound and muffled, padded hits coming from the other side stopped.
"Why couldn't we reach your phone, Wyverian?" Armsmaster asked in between breaths. He sounded irritated.
"About that," I replied hesitantly. "I may have forgotten to charge it. Sorry."
His disappointment charged the air.
"I'm not used to having one," I tried to explain. "I'll fix the problem as soon as I get the chance."
"What do you mean 'fix'?" I could almost hear the gear shift happening in the small pause following the question. "You mean you can add one of those sacs? How long would…" He took a deep breath. "That'll have to wait for later, Wyverian, and will need our approval. There are more pressing matters we have to discuss. Start charging your phone and call me back on it. Now."
"Can't we just… right security. On it."
Now I only had to find the stupid charger.
I spend the better part of ten minutes digging through my room to no avail and forced myself to swallow my dignity and actually ask Dad.
"You've left it near the fruit bowl in the kitchen," He answered, eyes transfixed on the screen before adding. "I think I know why he called you. Leet has filmed the whole thing and uploaded it on your dedicated thread. It has kind of exploded but the general feeling seems to be disbelief – with only a few exceptions."
"Oh," I replied as I grabbed the charger that was hiding in plain sight and made my way back upstairs.
It looked like Uber and Leet had suddenly jumped up my very recently created shit-list. Congratulations, their prize was my whole-hearted annoyance.
Seriously, if it wasn't for those jerks, I might have avoided everything that morning. I'd still have my Internet access without the cell phone.
But at least, now I knew why the Tinker hero wanted to talk to me. I think.
As soon as I had enough charge to turn on the bloody thing, I called Armsmaster. He had set himself up under speed dial and somehow I didn't think he'd appreciate the extra delay that going through Console would cause.
"I can't help it if Lung suddenly approaches me." I blurted out as soon as he picked up the phone.
Why did people around me have the urge to sigh?
"What took you so long? Did you have to make another charger? But that's the other thing I wanted to talk about." He really sounded tired. "How did you get the corpse in the Rig's cafeteria without anyone noticing?"
"I asked one of the felynes who specializes in transport to deliver it. Why? Did the transpurrter cause mischief?"
"That's one way to describe 'causing a full M/S lockdown until Miss Militia manages to convince everybody that it's a delivery of a foolish, young Cape and not a Godfather-style statement from a new super villain'. It wouldn't be my first choice. It took more than half a day before we could get operations up and running again to a sub-optimal degree. We wasted a lot of time and can count ourselves lucky nothing critical happened."
"oh, uhm." Shit. "I'm sorry? I only kinda wanted to give you a sample since I thought you'd be interested in that weird place where I ended up after Triggering. Since I already told you about the felynes, I didn't think much of it."
"That still doesn't explain how the…" There was a tiny pause. Armsmaster probably looked up the name in some bullshit, beyond high-tech manner. "… Transpurrter managed to bring the carcass onto the Rig undetected. Do these felynes have some sort of Master/Stranger powers?"
"No!" I began before adding. "Well, I haven't had any problems spotting the furballs but I've realized something, though."
"Continue."
"Well, after sleeping on it, I found it kinda strange that my audience – you know the idiots that didn't run from the maccao? – that they simply played with the felynes as if they were just cats. Even though every single one of them had at least a pickaxe or paw hammer. So I guess some Master/Stranger power would be logical. Explains how they manage to rescue hunters from under the noses of hungry monsters" I shrugged knowing full well nobody was there to see it.
"Do you control them?" Why did I get the feeling that people were getting headaches?
"No, they simply work for me but you could probably hire them if you'd offer something the felynes were interested in. Anyone could, actually."
"Anyone could?" I heard a strangled sound Armsmaster couldn't quite suppress. "Are you saying they could be hired as potential assassins?"
"Nah, that's just silly. I know those cats. They're far too sweet and playful for that." The hero didn't give a grunt to indicating that he'd believe me so I plowed right on through. "It would be bad for business as well. They do rescue missions, remember? Not many people would willingly let them near if they were slitting throats or something."
"Right. Could you hire them all or stop them from coming in the first place?" Brockton's mightiest Tinkerer apparently still had his doubts about the clumsy helpers.
"That would be too expensive for me. I think. I don't know what they'd ask for it but I'm afraid I wouldn't have anything left to Tinker with. Also, I'm not making them, or summoning them or anything. They just appear without me doing anything." I chuffed. "If I could control any inter-dimensional travel or whatever I'd be over there gathering resources instead of talking on the phone. No offense."
"None taken. I have far better things to do as well. I'll inform the Director about these felynes and a decision regarding them will likely be made then. Now, to the other elephant in the room." He seemed to be beyond irritated by now if the strain in his voice was any indication.
Oh, joy.
"What the hell were you thinking attacking Lung? Did you even realize how easily he could have killed you? We, the Protectorate, wouldn't simply attack him without an extremely good reason and even more planning to ensure everyone's safety."
"It wouldn't have been all that bad," I replied in what I hoped was a calm and reassuring voice. "The felynes would have gotten me out of there."
"And what then, Wyverian? Lung chasing you through Brockton Bay while most of the Protectorate is still dealing with the aftermath of that other stunt. Do you have any idea how many lives could have been lost in the process after you ramped him up that much?" His voice warped from strained to an angry almost-snarl in those few sentences.
"He didn't leave me much choice, Sir."
"Explain."
"Well, he tried to recruit me and made it pretty clear he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer," I did explain, carefully maintaining a neutral tone of voice and fidgeting with the charger cord. "I kinda noticed that he wanted to fight from the beginning. Dunno, something felt off with his body language. I didn't want to join his gang so just wanted to make sure I could get away."
"And so you attacked him with your hammer? Why didn't you just use the items straight away that allowed you to escape? You wouldn't have made him angry. What were those anyway?"
I honestly hadn't thought of that. "I was afraid he might stop me before I could throw the Dung and Flash Bombs."
Technically it wasn't lying, right? I didn't think that admitting to all-out attacks being your first resort was that great when trying to be a hero.
"Dung bomb?" Armsmaster choked. "You threw dung in Lung's face and then ran away?"
"Yeah, they can be used to scare big monster off so I thought it would be fitting when he didn't go down after my blows."
"I'll need you to send me samples – "
"But I need them myself and you didn't want to see my Flash bomb while I was at power testing." Seriously what was the deal?
" – like I said I need samples, or in this case multiples of both bombs and we'll increase security in your neighborhood as well as escorts if you do need to go out."
An uncomfortable silence laden with disappointment stretched between us as I really didn't like the idea of giving away even one of the few bombs I still had and that had actually proven useful to allow me to get out of trouble.
"Look, Wyverian, it's not like we want to obstruct you or force you into joining the Wards – that offer is still open, of course – but we simply don't want to lose you." An incredulous sound escaped my throat. "I actually wanted to call you before the corpse appeared. The preliminary tests on your potions are back. While still some extra tests are needed for long-term effects, they work without problems. As a Tinker myself I don't believe that problems will appear. We would hate to lose you to either the gangs that defile the city or to your own curiosity. Please keep low until this blows over and make sure you're protected one way or another. You're going to make a real difference."
I sighed in relief. "That's great."
"Wyverian, please, don't do anything stupid and sit tight. I'll contact you about news regarding the potions or when something's been decided about the felynes that you should know. I'm expecting the bombs at the latest tomorrow or else you'll have to contact me. Anything else you need?"
"I won't, thanks, I'll hand a few over to the next PRT agent I meet, and I'm fine, thanks again."
"In that case, I hope the next time we'll talk will be because of more positive reasons." And then the beeping tone of him having hung up.
Too bad, Dad then came and created another dip in Friday's emotional rollercoaster by confiscating both the cellphone and charger with a devious smile and a tap on his nose.
I couldn't even cheat my way onto the internet that way.
My mood worsened still when three unmarked PRT vans pulled over to escort me to Sig later in the evening. I found it wholly unnecessary and I kinda felt bad about hogging so many resources.
Maybe they just wanted to make sure I wouldn't go anywhere.
I couldn't stay that mad, though, when I realized those vans could just as easily be used to transport the metal plates I harvested.
Another thing in their favor was that they brought me to the absolute high point of that Friday when we finally visited Sig a second time. Dad had already informed the PRT last night and got Sig to stay longer as well so I could use his forge and didn't want to call everything off on such a short notice.
It probably helped that I'd be making a set of armor. I started drying the pieces of great maccao hide.
Luckily the, frankly excessive, escort was even forgotten while I tanned the larinoth and regular maccao hides in an Earth Crystal bath.
By the time I was melding the pieces of great maccao rawhide to the framework of larinoth leather and melting their scales to add to the molten, refined iron, I had pretty much forgotten anything else.
Red leather from the regular maccaos was used to make sleeves, quasi-stockings, and cover some other gaps between the metal pieces.
When I finally finished up by fusing the leather cape and skirt to the metal but still somewhat flexible metal cuirass and, it was already past midnight. Dad, Sig, and the agents had wanted to call it a night hours before but apparently weren't able to snap me out of it. Or I had told them that I couldn't stop without ruining everything. I didn't really remember and couldn't really care if I was completely honest.
I was far too happy with my armor.
It consisted of a short hooded cape made of the leather/rawhide hybrid with green feathers still attached that was fused to the breastplate of the main, steel body. The faulds were encircled by a knee-length, split skirt made of red leather and more, larger feathers on the side and some metal plates on top. Red leather sleeves disappeared into green leather gloves that ended just shy of my elbows. My head was adorned by a snazzy, triangular hat with a single yellow feather on top.
What excited me most, however, were the boots. Sure, they might be green, knee high boots and had a supple red leather extension that reached halfway to my thighs each. Sure, my toes and claws poked through the hole made for them and the folded over edge of the boot looked weird on my digitigrade legs but finally, I had shoes that fit me again. It hadn't been uncomfortable walking around everywhere barefoot in January but, still, it felt… weird. I'd take somewhat unconventional boots over that any day.
I couldn't even bring myself to care that much that it was the bare basics in terms of armors I could make nor that even this one hadn't reached its fullest potential. Though it was annoying that I was simply missing the materials to make that happen.
I was still practically bouncing when we got home and Dad tiredly told me to go to bed and sleep.
Saturday I took the difficult decision to cut my losses and cut out the burned parts of my hair. It was hard to see my hair reach barely past my shoulders. The rest of the morning was spent posing for a couple of photos in my armor which Dad uploaded for me while I expanded the insect box in the basement. He had also taken some pictures of us together to get himself verified on PHO. Much to my surprise, I found the cutest little beetle that must have emerged from his pupae during the night while working on the box. The little rascal imprinted on me and I couldn't bring myself to put him back in the box while I worked on various traps with him happily sitting on my head for the rest of the day.
Somewhere during the day, Dad descended into the basement to tell me that people seemed to like my armor and asked me whether or not I had some sort of C-formed mark on my body. I told him no but I didn't really think too much of it as I was cramming nets into spaces they really had no business fitting into.
On Sunday, Dad allowed me outside to tend to the garden and I took that time to install some of the pitfall traps I had made the day before. During that time, the beetle had found the different herbs I had planted and was happily feeding on the nectar that was somehow dripping from them in the winter. I let him. He looked too cute to stop him and I didn't think he'd destroy anything.
Dinner had almost returned to a normal affair as Dad seemed to believe I had almost suffered enough under his devilish punishment. I could still feel that he was worried about my safety and future but at the same time, he seemed to enjoy tormenting me a bit too much by dangling the internet just in front of my nose. I honestly didn't mind that much. I had plenty of other things to do, not the least the beetle, and I thought that it was only fair after scaring him so often after I had triggered.
But seriously, I couldn't wait to geek back out on the PHO forums with the full weight of "verified Cape" backing me up.
He did end up asking me whether it was really necessary for a bug to follow me everywhere. I couldn't see why he was worried about it. The beetle was very clean and barely spilled any nectar from his little cup while eating.
The Sunday night was a restless one. You'd think that after killing a group of oversized raptors, turning their skin into armor, murdering a demon spider and making a knife out of that one, and escaping Lung, the prospect of returning to school wouldn't faze me anymore.
Well, it did.
The sleepless hours even managed to dredge up insecurities about my body I hadn't felt for the rest of the week only to remind myself of what had changed. Of how I lost some of my hair to that bastard Lung and how I would be the freak of Arcadia.
I imagined posters advertising the school freak with entry fees noted in bold letters beside a half obscured picture of me.
Sometimes I really hated my brain. At least my pet beetle didn't judge.
I really needed to give him a fitting name.
It might help explain why, when I was about to walk to the team of PRT agents that were to be my private bodyguards slash minders that I may or may not reacted a bit too eagerly when I felt a familiar tug just behind my navel.
…Okay I sprinted back inside yelling something like "HavetogetmyhammerandarmornoIdon'thavetimetoexplainseeyouinabitbye" while both Dad and the agents ran after me, shouting in confusion.
I grabbed the gun hammer as I flew through the door of my room and hurled myself on the pile containing the rest of my armor.
Moments after I landed on it in a tangled mess, I felt my surroundings shift.
This time, I wasn't transported to some dingy cave by probably the most infuriating part of my powers. Instead of the more solid darkness the cave provided, I was greeted by light filtering through a dense canopy of the forest I lay in. Animal sounds were all around me as I sat up and checked whether every part of my armor made the shift.
Luckily, they actually did.
That meant I was at least lucky in one regard. The second thing I checked for wasn't. In my hurried sprint for my equipment, I forgot to grab the bag I had prepared the day before just for cases like these. No big deal, if I ignored that it meant I didn't have any Potion. Nor any Antidote or bombs (the ones I could actually make on Sunday). I couldn't even try out whether the new goodies I made at the same time actually worked as intended.
The third check I made was actually looking for anything trying to eat and/or simply murder me in not necessarily that order. I could vaguely remember the fact that there were some big, aggressive herbivores who were all territorial for no reason in particular.
It was still weird knowing about stuff I had no business knowing about like animal species that shouldn't really exist. Or figuring out you understood and were talking an entirely different language. Stupid powers working on a need-to-know basis.
I knew the general shape of the species and I could actually almost feel being launched into the air by one of these, but beyond that? Not much besides a somewhat irrational caution around sand and a sense that not even rocky ground could be safe in certain regions.
The integrated paranoia senses made it even weirder for me that "checking the surrounding for anything that might tear your face off" hadn't made it higher on my priorities list. But then again, I couldn't hear anything big and scary stomping around and I hadn't flinched yet so I should probably be okay.
I mean, I noticed the latter was something of a trend when being spotted by something that wanted me dead.
So, in light of the absence of threats, I stripped down to my underwear so I could actually wear the armor I had abandoned my items for. I just put my hearing in overdrive just to be sure, though I would completely fail to appreciate the irony of getting killed while putting on the very thing that should help me prevent just that.
And it would also mean my ears could actually do something besides being too big and in the way – I still had to decide how I could make helmets that would actually fit.
When I managed to put on the cuirass and attach it to the faulds without getting decapitated by ninja wyverns or something equally bad, I allowed myself to take in the scenery while fiddling with the clasps on both my gloves and boots with built in stockings.
Looking beyond the vine covered, tall trees, I couldn't help but notice that the underbrush was less dense than one would expect in a primordial forest like this. There might have been a couple of thorny bushes where I wouldn't want to go through unless truly necessary that blocked off my line of sight interspersed between the trees. Beyond that, though? Mainly low growing, herbs of different kinds, leaves, berries, and mushrooms. The distance between the individual trees was bigger than I'd have expected. The temperature was pleasant as well
All in all, it made the forest feel less cramped – a feature I could get behind wholly. It wasn't like I had developed a case of claustrophobia since the locker stunt, but there still was the slight unease whenever I thought about really confined spaces. Well, there was that part of me that still enjoyed her private quarters in my headspace, the one that was quietly transferred into a nice, spacious padded room when I faced the maccaos, that was starting to shout. But then again, I hadn't truly listened to her ever since I faced down the nerscylla.
The fact that most animals native to this dimension were super-sized would probably explain why I wouldn't have trouble getting around the place.
With a shrug, I stood up, and since I still wasn't attacked I took my time to repurpose the hoody I was wearing (one of my last ones I noticed to my dismay) into a makeshift pouch that hung around my waist and I transferred all the possessions in the pocket of my shorts, namely my fancy cellphone and wallet, into a smaller, pre-made pouch that came with the armor.
Dad had returned it to me that morning due to my "exemplary behavior" during the time I was grounded. In truth I thought he just disliked the idea of me, the newly born magnet of all things freaky and violent, potentially running around the Bay without having any means to be contacted.
… Or maybe one of my many babysitters had reminded him that it was technically PRT equipment and kindly requested him to return it to me. I had received it so I could be called in an emergency after all.
Either way, the piece of technology – now fully charged! – wandered right into its pouch when I realized that, no matter how fancy it might be, it still didn't have trans-dimensional reception. It was a rather sobering and disappointing realization.
At least the knife, snuggly fitted in its sheath on my back, would still do its job effortlessly. I knew it would, after all, I made it myself.
Weird hissing tore me out of my reverie and looking down, I faced a posturing altaroth. A glimpse back revealed that I was apparently blocking its way to a bunch of mushrooms. It might have actually looked adorable in some kind of ridiculous way with its claws raised at me menacingly if I didn't have to dodge a projectile of foul, acidic smelling spit.
I squashed it with my hammer for its impudence.
The charred, flatten remains attracted the attention its mates immediately which I took as my sign to start moving after collecting the blue mushrooms partially out of spite.
It wasn't like I wouldn't be able to deal with them but more that it would be a far greater annoyance than it was worth. I didn't really feel like having to dodge a couple of corrosive balls of spit just to make a statement nobody would be able to remember. It would just unnecessarily dirty my brand spanking new armor in a way I was fairly certain would weaken it. And they wouldn't even have had the courtesy to leave something useful behind in their demise. At least for now.
I could much better use the limited space of my impromptu pouch for far more useful things like the Herbs I decided to look for since nothing big had attacked me yet. It was not every day I was given the chance to collect the stuff I needed without some furriends trying to swindle me out of other materials.
Still, where was the monster I had to murder - erh, hunt? Kill. I might as well do a sightseeing tour through a fascinating forest while I was at it.
Half an hour later, my mounting annoyance had evolved into full-blown irritation.
My hoody with aspirations of being a bag was already filled with a variety of herbs, berries, whetstones, and mushrooms. I even collected the tusks and largest still intact bones of the bullfango that made me faceplant while I was busy looking through shrubberies for useful berries.
I ate some thorns, my ass hurt from the impact, and I had found out that at least their meat tasted pretty good even if it was prepared with repeated burst of fire and copious amounts of blunt force trauma.
It might have been partially due to my Tinker "memories" surfacing but I already absolutely despised the fuckers.
And that was completely ignoring the bnahabras, the house cat-sized flying insects with stingers the size of my forearm that buzzed around with the keen intent to sting me and only me. On top of the more sensibly sized insects. And they too simply disintegrated when I hit them with the hammer without leaving anything useful behind.
The only reason I even knew that it was half an hour later without any indication of something that actually wanted to kill me was because I whipped out my cellphone and started to take photographs of the surrounding. It looked outlandish enough and thus would likely be of interest of Armsmaster and – if I was allowed to actually to post it – at least some of my new-found fans.
I mean, the sight of enormous vertebrae and ribs showing through the occasional holes in the canopy wasn't something you'd see every day. Not even in our post-Scion world of ours.
But that didn't mean that I wasn't getting actively angry at the forces to be for not dumping me right in front of whatever monster they thought needed a good smiting. It was almost insulting if precisely that was too much to ask after having been trans-dimensional transport. How hard could a few extra yards or miles be anyway, after such a feat?
At least, I thought that was what I was supposed to hunt something. After all, it was what had triggered my return journey the first time it happened the week before.
I just had to find the damned thing.
Luckily, my wish for impending slaughter was granted when I took anotherpicture of a grazing deer-like creature.
Again, I flinched and messed up the photo in the process but I didn't really mind.
Said mind was in an entirely different place as I felt something breathing down my neck. I carefully turned to face whatever had managed to sneak up on me and was greeted by two large, yellow eyes.
Well, actually, they were markings on orange, spiked ears which hid a set of smaller, yellow eyes and a trunk which were visible briefly as the upside down monkey tilted its… her head in cautious curiosity.
The long, bi-clawed limbs hung at her sides, prepared to lash out in case something happened, while hanging on a low-hanging vine with a spike on her tale.
Membranes running down her arms and side twitched slightly as I slowly brought up my cellphone and backed off.
I took a picture.
I forgot the flash was still on and the kecha wacha tumbled to the ground in shock while I hastily stored the phone back into its pouch to free up both my hands and actually wield my hammer.
The lemur monkey pushed herself back on its feet, balancing on her wrist and thus partially hiding the long, wicked talons that made up her hand. She towered over me by a five or so feet.
Her ears started to undulate and she roared a shrill roar that was loud enough to force me into blocking my ears from the sudden pain spike.
The monkey jumped at me before I had completely recovered; before the pain had faded completely, and swiped at me with one large claw, her reach longer than expected.
Sparks lighted up the dim forest as the blow glanced off my cuirass and launched me backward. I rolled to control the landing of my involuntary fight, dug in my own talons into the ground, and charged the beast with the gun hammer raised behind my back.
I felt my core musculature tense and compact while energy was stored and the hammerhead began to spin.
I brought the hammer down with a mighty crack only to discover that the kecha wacha had jumped backward with a flip and looked at me menacingly. The hammer stuck in the ground and I needed a moment to pull it out again.
A moment the monkey didn't give me from her quasi-gliding position, flapping its arms ineffectively to stay aloft. She spat at me using her trunk to give the projectile more speed.
The sight on its own might have been funny – hilariously so even – but I wasn't really in the mood to agree with that.
I saw the ball of spit the size of my torso fly towards me with too little time to dodge out of the way.
The slimy watery substance hit me with a force that forced the air out of my lungs. Mucous clung to the armor weighing me down. I tried to take a breath only to fill my mouth with the stuff.
I rolled sideways as the kecha wacha glided towards me and slammed both arms down on the position I was previously at. My lungs burned while I stopped myself from falling over after the roll and scrambled – stumbled – towards the nearest tree.
The mucous still blocked my mouth and nose, oozing inside both.
Out of the monkey's line of sight, digging through the hoody-turned-bag around my hips to find something – anything that would allow me to breathe. That would allow me to get the air needed to prepare my next strike.
Leaning against the tree trunk I brought a blue berry to my mouth with shaking hands while keeping a watchful eye out for the attacker that hadn't realized just yet what was supposed to happen in these encounters. What was going to happen as soon as I could breathe.
The mucous that covered the Nullberry blocked its bitter taste even as the sliminess made me want to retch all the same.
A couple of heartbeats later I felt my body beginning to warm up and sweat.
Whatever kept the slime… slimy was destroyed by my sweat and water streamed from my body.
I breathed and delicious air stilled the fire in my lungs.
Moments later, they protested as I had to dive away once more because the kecha wacha dropped down from the canopy with outstretched arms, spinning like a demented blender.
I scrambled back up and swung my hammer towards the incoming claws with a quick motion.
With a crack, one of the four deadly appendages broke off and the monkey cried out in pained outrage.
I brought the hammer down on the squirming form on the ground only to have to jump back to avoid the raking hands trying to slice open my feet. I missed.
The monkey stood up with murder in her eyes and almost caught me by surprise by throwing an honest to goodness tantrum.
Not heeding the pain she had to be feeling, she started to smash the ground in blind rage. Hopping slightly with every maddened strike, rotating on her own axis.
I might have been in trouble if I was laying somewhere on the ground at her feet or if she had stunned me beforehand.
As it was, it only served to present her back to me. I took the opportunity and charged once more with my hammer held up high behind my back.
This time, the strike connected on the beast's lower back and fire bathed its legs while rattling my hands.
What worried me was that I didn't feel any cracks indicating I'd broke something. I was really lucky with the strike that managed to break off its claw.
That didn't mean it hadn't hurt her. She looked back at me in a way that instinctively made me hop backward.
It was probably what saved my feet from being detached from my body by the hate-filled swipe of her healthy left arm.
The ears folded over her head to form a helmet; to make her resemble a predator baring its teeth. I pressed my hands against my ears, cursing the fact that had nothing to attach the hammer to my person.
She cried again, rage and pain bleeding into the roar that left me unable to do much besides trying to block it out.
The kecha wacha jumped back up into the canopy when she saw I was too far away for a quick swipe. Too far away and ready to retaliate.
I was already moving as it stuck it's head out of the dense foliage and loosened a salvo of three spit projectiles.
The first one went flying past behind me. The second one went wide as I suddenly changed direction.
The third one almost hit me and forced me to stop in my tracks completely as it impacted on the ground right at my feet.
Which left me wide open as the monkey came gliding down at me with a terrible speed and arms outstretched.
I rolled out of the way, but still, when I stood back up I noticed that it hadn't been enough. A claw got stuck in the corner of my lips and almost tore away my jaw in the process. It remained attached but it managed to tear away most of my left cheek.
It hurt like a motherfucker.
I forced the pain into the same room as the incoherently babbling me that normally occupied my mind, I ignored the blood seeping down my throat and into my cuirass.
I didn't pay heed to the wind that dried up my gums and chilled my exposed teeth as I began running at the tumbling creature who dared to inflict those very same wounds.
I brought the full weight of my hammer and then some down on the head of the offending monkey with a snarl.
A snarl that grew louder as a mad grin appeared on the still working side of my face. A motion that only brought more pain that was exiled to the same place as the rest of it.
I felt a brief moment of resistance as the hammer made contact with the hardened ear before that gave way with a satisfying crack. The leftover force was more than enough to pop and broil one of her eyes at the same time.
The kecha wacha howled in pain, stumbling and trying to stand up while it blindly and drunkenly thrashed on the ground. Since it was apparent she tried to protect her head with her flailing, I went for a softer target.
Three quick steps brought me to her ass and tail. I brought my hammer down on the general area.
This time, the first strike did break something now that her pelvis was in contact with the ground and she couldn't feather the blow with her legs. The second blow slid off the compacted pelvis and the hot edge bit deep into the tail. The third and final blow was aimed upwards and with a firm grip of the ground and a rotation I punted the suffering monster a yard away. Each strike bathed the lower half of the monster in searing flames.
The acrid smell of burned hair intermingled with that of burned meat and shit.
The kecha wacha pushed herself upright once again, her ruined hind legs buckling but somehow still bearing the load of the nearly thirty feet long monster.
I shielded my ears once more as she loosened a terrified and pain-filled cry.
Too late, I realized why she started flapping her arms.
With a snarled curse, I dropped my hammer and leaped towards the monkey that was about to take off. I managed to grab its tail in midair and…
…and the thing tore off and dropped me onto the forest floor, burying my face into the ground wound-first.
This time, the monkey managed to stay airborne, somehow, and with a curse, I had to witness it climbing away through the overgrown canopy.
I stood up, draping the severed tail around my neck like some demented scarf. I picked the twigs and dirt out of the gaping hole where my cheek used to be with one hand while the other was busy grabbing and transferring Herbs from my bag into my mouth. My eyes never wavered from the direction the kecha wacha fled in.
I felt the way the edges of my ragged wound twitched and pulsed, forming raw, fleshy tendrils searching for the other end of the wound as I chewed on the same Herb I used in my Potion.
By the time my right hand clasped around the handle of my gun hammer, I felt how the left side of my jaw was pulled towards my skull as the tendrils had found the right place and contracted.
When I put the broken off claw into my bag, my left cheek itched as the tendrils started to fuse with one another and the looming dizziness I hadn't really noticed faded.
I was jogging towards my severely wounded prey when the outright itch was replaced by a sore irritation.
Despite the frustration I felt when the kecha wacha fled and how my injury hadn't healed completely, I had a bit of a joyful hop in my long strides. I knew the beast couldn't go on for much longer and I had strong reasons to believe its death would be my ticket back home.
Back home where I could start making new toys with the material harvested from the silly, orange monkey.
Soon, I stumbled across the first signs of her passing in the form of a trail of blood that no doubt came from her tail stump. It then made way for a trail of trampled foliage where she pulled her near useless lower body through.
The trail led me to a small cliff at its feet the kecha wacha lay sleeping. Maybe the creature had hoped I wouldn't be able to scale down the sheer rocky wall. Maybe, she hadn't been able to go any further.
The reasons didn't really matter. I could see that the stump had stopped bleeding and the entire pelvis area somehow looked less... wrong.
The bitch had run away to get a chance to heal, no doubt wanting to come back and take revenge afterward.
I showed my teeth to no one in particular.
It really didn't matter. Not the cliff, nor the fact she was slowly able to heal.
I knew I would survive a jump from this height and more and this would be the perfect opportunity to test out the… feature of this armor set.
I leaped off the cliff and started charging up one final attack. I wanted to finish this with one last hit.
Two things happened in the air. I suddenly started accelerating downward at a ridiculously unnatural speed and I got a slight sensation that I could grab the air with my feet at any moment, consolidating it to make a brief platform just to launch the attack.
I did just that less than a foot above the ground and the kecha wacha's head exploded by the strike that left a crater in the ground even after that.
Not moments after the blow landed, I started to feel the familiar tug behind my navel beginning to build. I dropped my hammer to get out my knife while kicking over the headless, spasm racked corpse of my target.
With a quick motion, I severed the nearest arm, the left one with which she tore open my face, at the shoulder and slung it around my neck on top of her tail. With the arm secured, I went on to flay the hide off her stomach with quick, practiced motions, slung the hide over my shoulder and started digging in her abdominal cavity.
I barely managed to remove three of her six Aqua Sacks, grasping them under my arm, before the feeling started to reach its peak.
I got a hold of my hammer seconds before my surrounding shifted again.
I was dumped on one of several panicking PRT agents searching the room, likely for clues on where I suddenly disappeared to.
They yelped, with the exception of the man I landed on. He groaned in pain as he became very close friends with the floor of my room.
I stood up under the wide-eyed stares from everyone (sans the one clasping his head) and heard someone thundering up the stairs.
Dad appeared in the doorframe, pushing aside one agent and a look of relief flickered briefly to anger before squarely landing on the same shocked one the others wore.
I gave him an awkward wave which dropped one of the sacks on the floor with a wet squelch.
"Uhm, hi?"
Multiple things happened after my awkward greeting. The agent who served as my cushion was pushing himself up again when a squirt of the dropped Aqua Sac hit his hand, knocking it out from under him. It slid away over the newly wet floor and the dazed agent strengthened his friendship with the floor.
Meanwhile, the initial shock of my sudden reappearance had apparently worn off and hands moved away from a variety of weapons and the stance of the gathered agents relaxed just a tiny bit. It seemed that I still wasn't considered an innate threat. Lucky me.
That made the third and final thing that I saw happening all the more obvious. It started with Dad, his shocked expression slowly mixing with one of disgust. The agents, their adrenaline levels probably higher thanks to their training, followed suit soon after in the awkward, relative silence.
It was only after I tried to pick up the Aqua Sac I had dropped in an attempt to distract the nasty thoughts that had started in my mind that I realized where their revulsion might have come from.
I had almost forgotten that the kecha wacha's head had exploded like an over ripe melon with my last attack and, well, it showed that I had been in the primary splatter zone. My speedy dissection hadn't helped either. I was covered with blood and brain fluid while chunks of furry flesh and fragments of her skull were stuck in the nooks and crannies of my armor. Reaching for my neck on the side of my still tender cheek revealed that it didn't look too good either if the red, gooey liquid on my hand was any indication.
That movement caused the room to erupt in a flurry of sound and movement.
Dad came closer to check on me and while the agents vacated my room, calling someone over their earpieces. Apparently, he first thought that I wanted to skip my first day in school when I suddenly ran off shouting incoherently. Of course, he went after me, only to find absolutely nothing when the trail of gouges in the floorboards suddenly came to a stop. What didn't help at putting his mind at ease was the fact that my armor was missing while my bag of goodies lay forgotten on my desk.
It was around that time that the squad leader of our merry band of troopers had the bright idea that I could have been kidnapped by Lung or one of the other Gangs. He happily ignored the obvious lack of ashes found which would rule out Oni Lee's involvement. The house still stood unburned so that should have been a good hint that the big man hadn't come to visit either.
While I could imagine that our resident gang of supernatural Nazis would have gotten a good chuckle out of my video featuring Lung – I knew for a fact that at least Rune did so thanks to a confused recounting by Dad of what happened during my forced hiatus –I couldn't really see them acting on that if I was completely honest. There were surprisingly little complaints in the white community about them – considering the fact that they were as close to being literal Nazis as one could get in modern times. They liked it that way, enough to avoid trouble in our neighborhood. It was a different story in minority communities but that was as surprising as water being wet. Bottom line was, they wouldn't have just kidnapped me without me doing something… drastic first. I would have remembered if I had managed to piss them off as well. I think. Probably.
… Besides, I doubted that they'd wanted to recruit me either. I wasn't exactly the Aryan ideal before anything happened and now I wasn't even the same species anymore. I couldn't see the mooks who actually believed in their ideology react positively on the notion of having a "lesser race" join. Especially in a more literal case.
I didn't even need to consider the Merchants. The ideas that the drug heads could have pulled something off this stealthily was simply too funny. Even with Squealer's monstrosities having the ability to cloak (if the rumors on the PHO were to by believed), they'd still be far too big to get anywhere without collateral damage.
In short, I had no clue why they could have thought that I was kidnapped after having told Armsmaster about my fight against the nerscylla.
It only caused Dad to seemingly age half a decade in the apparent ten minutes I was gone. The bastards.
Weirdly enough, he didn't go for a hug after I had told them the summary of my little adventure that conveniently forgot the near-jaw-removal bit. Luckily, the stump of the monkey's tail ended on the same side as said wound that totally didn't happen so that was "explained" as well.
After having sliced off a single vertebra worth of the spiked kecha wacha tail material, I simply threw the tail into my box alongside with the rest of my hard-earned loot.
Then came the phone call and I had to recount once more what had just happen. At least Assault could see the fun of the situation. According to him, the whole thing was "pretty metal" and he even thanked me for making console duty somewhat bearable. Apparently, seeing flustered and/or panicking PRT troopers reminded him of the "good old times". Beyond that, he didn't expect much in the way of consequences beyond being asked to wear some dimensional anomaly detection device or something.
He would personally even ask for some kind of wearable camera. Assault's reasoning was that a video recording would give more information on my pocket dimension than the pictures I had taken and sent.
I suspected he just wanted to see the actual fight. I kinda liked his relaxed way of doing things.
I mean, it wasn't as if I could control it, so what use was getting riled up about it? Better use that time to prepare and enjoy myself.
With that out of the way, it was time to wash the gore out of the armor and collect the runoff in a bucket. Dad wouldn't let me go anywhere without my equipment after realizing my little adventures could simply happen at any time. I thought it was a nice, low-impact way of giving the PRT scientists more samples to play with on top of that. It would also to dispel any speculations that it was anything else than a brightly colored monkey with a trunk that caused the chunky salsa before those even began.
The armor pieces were dried by spinning them around really fast. Improved strength and flexibility can be very handy in unexpected areas, it seemed. The angrily glowing spare plate of metal I spun the pieces of equipment over helped as well.
Dad reluctantly left for work soon after he was sure I was all right. He had convinced me to actually still go to Arcadia for the remainder of the morning. All it took was mentioning that no smithy would be open on such a short notice and that I had to find a way to spend my time somehow. Why then, not start with trying to make new friends?
Well, that and the fact that he had apparently been in contact with New Wave over the weekend and they wanted to meet up with me or something. Dad thought that going despite my little adventure would earn me some brownie points with both Brandish and Photon Mom. Especially the former, who seemed to insist on academic diligence in face of heroic activities if Glory Girl's occasional rant was to be believed. Doubly so considering she was already attending some college classes. There did seem to be a push for general excellence in New Wave.
All of that wasn't the true deciding factor, though. It was the pained conviction he had when he told me they needed him at the Union and he'd go no matter how little he liked it. Apparently, the Merchants had redoubled their activities and they were losing desperate dockworkers to both illicit activities and as new recruits. Dad couldn't allow half-assed work being done on the few jobs they still had – not while he was still trying to get the ferry reinstated. People were counting on him.
So, even though he was still hurting, afraid, and feeling useless due to my sudden disappearance, he'd go now that he knew I was okay. What kind of daughter would I be if I stayed at home while feeling perfectly fine just because of silly teen drama I simply assumed might happen?
It would also give me some time away from the stern-faced PRT agents that were still hovering around. They'd be returning to a less visible kind of surveillance if nothing happened in the meantime, but until then they'd be around.
Dad drove away with his van of agents trailing behind minutes before my armor was secured in a bag and in the van I'd be traveling in and we set off as well. I was absentmindedly chewing on some maccao jerky as the vehicle accelerated smoothly.
The fact that people suddenly cared enough for me to organize this kind of protection was all kinds of jarring. On one hand, it was nice to see people seemingly caring about my safety. On the other, it… irritated me that it took me Triggering and getting to the point where I wouldn't need them anymore to actually get there. If people would just have paid attention before, all of this wouldn't have been needed.
But then they wouldn't have potential access to the Potions, a small, traitorous, paranoid voice told me, are you sure they'd have any interest in preventing shit like that from happening?
I banished that particular thought with a shake of my head which confused my silently solemn escort. At least my general annoyance over the situation almost made the guilt over causing so much wasted resources and extra overwork go away. Almost, but not entirely.
It would have helped if the agents had shown any initiative to get to know us but apparently they wanted it to be business only; rotating agents, obvious aliases and the whole deal. I doubt so many agents would have the surname "smith". They were just doing their doing their job, but I knew even now, with their reflecting, concealing helmets on, that they thought it a waste of their time.
We arrived at the closed gates of Arcadia High a full hour after classes had started and the guards weren't that happy to see us. Not that their feelings mattered all that much if the PRT wants to get through. The agents escorting me took responsibility over me and my knife (the futuristic looking grenades they carried helped with that). The guards and the squad leader then had a little chat regarding where I could deposit my hammer and the rest of my armor in case of an emergency.
Soon, I was walking to the entrance flanked by two agents. One of them was carrying the bag with the rest of my armor while the other almost managed to hide his disappointment. He offered to carry my hammer but soon found out that it would have likely involved pulling a hernia and a couple of shifted vertebrae. I don't think it helped when I walked off holding the hammer in one hand.
Said walk was long enough to make me realize how ridiculous we – I had to look. I had attached the linen bag heavy with Potion and similar items to my belt and its bulk peeked out from under my hoody. Said hoody was faded dark green whose arms had already become a bit too small before the changes. It clashed with the blue sports shorts I had been forced to wear ever since my legs stopped being compatible with regular pants. Never mind the leather stockings that came with the fancy, high boots with toe-holes of my armor. Then there was the hammer in my right hand I hadn't cleaned quite as well as I hoped if the singed bit of yellow fur I spotted was any indication. On my left marched a PRT trooper with the seriousness the helmet tried to convey gravely diminished by the bulky blue Ikea bag he was carrying. The one on my right walked slumped over ever so slightly.
The thing that truly pushed it over the edge would probably be the cheap backpack I had to buy after the Trio had destroyed. It was an ugly, formless, brown thing that would have looked ridiculous on anyone. The effect it had combined with the rest of my outfit had to be… spectacular.
And that wasn't even touching on my home-made haircut and the frizzled state of my hair.
Or my look in general.
At least the hoody I had ruined in my little expedition had fit.
… And I had to enter one of the nicest schools in the city that was visited by some of the richest kids like that.
It took more than a just bit of effort to keep my chin up in defiance as the four-story building started to loom over me and keep placing one foot in front of the other.
I really wished some kind of monster would burst out of the ground and start trouble. At least that would be a decent excuse to not enter the building, right? I knew that there were plenty of monsters that could swim through solid rock and if the felyne and maccao could make it to this place, why not one of them too? Maybe if I concentrated hard enough on one of them…
… The doors slammed shut behind me with a resolute slam without any incident that could have delayed the inevitable. Damn.
Then I had to drop off the blue bag containing my armor, my gun hammer, and the sulking agent off at the janitor's office near the entrance. They'd be easily accessible in case something happened, but out of sight. The agent even told me he'd bring me my equipment if the need arose and for that, he needed to stay behind. I didn't have it in me to break his heart so I left him enjoying his fantasies.
The clicks of my claws on the stone floor echoed through the empty hallways whose silence was only broken by the soft murmur coming from the classrooms.
By the time we reached the floor of the vice principal's office, I was nervous enough to not notice the obvious, yellow sign warning about the wet floor. I slipped and you know the piercing screech nails make when dragged over a blackboard? The claws of my foot made a similar sound as they dug into the stone floor in a desperate attempt to keep the only slightly flailing me from falling on my ass. Only about a thousand time louder and more penetrating. Neither my clumsiness nor the fact that I was reminded once more that I could still blush helped my situation.
The last agent was left to guard the door and I entered vice-principal Howell's office after being invited to do so.
"There you are," the woman with bleached hair and colorful accessories greeted me. "I'm glad you were still able to make it despite that incident."
She stood up and offered her hand and I gently took it, careful to avoid making contact with the tips of my claws. "Vice-principal Howell."
"Wy – " I stumbled before correcting myself. "eh, Taylor Hebert. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too. This is Mr. Sullivan," She continued, gesturing to a man sitting in on my side of the desk. "He's a lawyer from our legal team and is here to clarify any questions you might have."
I repeated my careful handshake with the now standing and smiling man before steering my focus back to the vice-principal. It wasn't that hard a thing to do since, if I had to describe Mr. Sullivan in one word it would be "gray". He was averagely build but well groomed, with an inoffensive haircut and neat suit. He did seem pleasant enough, though.
"With that out of the way, take a seat," Howell began, gently smiling waiting while I settled in the chair she pointed at. "Let's jump straight to business; The next class will start soon and I'm sure you don't want to have to sneak in halfway."
I shuffled a bit. "Yeah, sure. Let's"
"All right. I think it would be best if we started with the most recent problem, namely your sudden disappearance. Do you know whether this will happen more often? Will it follow some sort of time table?"
"Well… probably?" I hazarded. "I mean, the same thing happened when I… Triggered and that was on a Monday as well. But that happened a bit later in the morning, so I don't really want to assume it's something really regular." I weakly smiled while she took some notes. "I mean, it has only happened twice and it isn't like I have found a way to control it yet."
My train of thought almost derailed as I realized something. "How do you know about my disappearance this morning and that it has happened more than once anyway?"
Howell and Sullivan exchanged a look and the latter gave a small nod. "Because of our close ties to the Wards and the PRT, we have access to some non-disclosed information for the sake of risk assessment and to better accommodate the Wards while protecting their civilian identities. We received a call from the PRT, informing us about today's incident after you got back. Of course, we're strictly bound to secrecy on any matter regarding the Wards. Is this all right with you?"
I nodded. It made enough sense to me. They had to prepare for potential emergencies for the Wards as well know the most important, potentially hidden dangers for their students. That generally took some amount of communication.
"For any other question, feel free to ask Mr. Sullivan," Howell continued, lightly tapping her pen on the paper. "I'll start looking into restructuring your Monday morning just in case. What about the creatures that appeared on Thursday? The PRT has informed us that they likely came from the same place you go to. Will they be a danger?"
Her voice had grown considerably colder with that last question.
I shrank back a little. "I don't know. I did know them but, again, I'm not sure why they appeared and I didn't feel anything when it actually happened. It might have been a one-off event." I shrugged.
Howell sighed. "And what if it wasn't? Did you know that the PRT have yet to find an entry point? Until you – we – know what caused them to appear I have to work under the assumption that they might somehow appear on the school grounds. What would you do if that happened and why should we risk our students?"
I felt my mouth open and close a couple of times in shocked indignation as I tried to find the right words. "I would fight whatever appeared, of course! I should at the very least be able to hold out until help arrived. Besides, everybody knows the Wards go to school here and then there's Glory Girl and Panacea as well. I'd say this would probably be the safest place for both me and the people around me. The only way I see them potentially preventing any danger would be by throwing me in some isolated prison or something. For something I have no control over, I don't want like this, and might not even flipping happen again! Yeah, that seems fair." Acid virtually dripped from those last words as the memories and emotions from Winslow threatened to break out of their dedicated mental room.
I stared right into her eyes. She met my gaze unflinchingly. "And don't I deserve a chance for education after all the shit I've been through while people who were supposed to protect me just watched it happen? After I've been turned into… this by the bitches who have tormented me for one and a half year without any repercussions?"
It wasn't like I necessarily loved school but it had been so fucking frustrating to never have gotten chance to find out what interested me in high school. To never get the chance to lose myself in a topic without fearing another cruel prank. To know that no matter how well I did in exams, I'd still earn barely passing grades in the end and more often than not, the barely hidden scoffing disappointment of the teachers thanks to the homework and assignments that went "missing".
I liked history – both the normal and paranormal kind – but Gladly might just have ruined that as well for me. Only computer class wasn't somehow tainted by the Trio's actions.
I wasn't even sure anymore what subjects I liked in middle school. The memories simply hurt too much by Emma's betrayal to be sure.
I deflated as the memories I had stowed away washed over me and I desperately tried to put them back where they came from.
I flinched a little when I felt Sullivan's hand giving mine a reassuring squeeze, empathy clearly visible on his face. It helped. Seeing a stranger care.
"Of course, you deserve at least that much," vice-principal Howell answered as I calmed down. "I just have to look at the bigger picture. I know you're probably in desperate need to find some friends as well. It's one of the reasons why we agreed when the PRT approached us about the matter. Granted, that was before those raptors appeared but we truly still want to give you a chance. I only wanted to present you with the biggest of my problems to see how you reacted to get a better picture of you."
She took a breath before continuing. "However, you do have to keep in mind that we might have to find alternative ways to provide you your education if the problem turns out to be bigger than expected. It might involve looking into something more high-tech, but as long as you don't do anything illegal, we're willing to find a solution."
I sullenly nodded. "If it helps, I have noticed that the maccao focused on me as soon as they spotted me. Anything else might behave the same… I also want to carry Potions – a healing item I can make – at all times just in case something did go wrong."
"Both would indeed help. Especially the latter. Why haven't we heard of those 'potions' yet? They sound potentially life-saving." Howell actually slightly cocked her head in curiosity.
"They're still in the process of being tested for their safety," I replied with some regained vigor. "I was advised to keep it a secret to the public until that was done. Both to avoid getting people's hope up too early and to avoid making a bigger target of myself."
She flashed me a small smile. "I see but that does bring me to my second point. Your knife." I opened my mouth to protest. "I know, why you're carrying it. I've seen the video of that battle and realize that you could have better protected everyone if you had a weapon at the time. You perhaps wouldn't have been wounded. While I might want to argue that you wouldn't need it with your equipment stored near the entrance and thus making it obsolete, I'm under no delusions. I know, you'd be just as capable to harm and kill normal humans without it."
This time I nearly jumped out of the chair in protest. "Please, let me finish. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I'm simply stating the uncomfortable truth of most parahumans people desperately want to forget. Just like they simply don't want to imagine what forces are at play when someone who could potentially use busses as baseball bats decides to punch someone without holding back. Still, we let Victoria attend classes without constantly foaming her or something.
"Considering that, I don't see why we should deny you access to your knife – especially if that decision might hamper your abilities to protect your fellow students in case something went wrong. I'll just have you sign a statement that you won't use it maliciously to smooth out the legal side of things."
"Ehm, shouldn't someone of the PRT be around for these kinds of discussions?" I asked, thinking of the Squad leader I left at the door.
"Most of what's discussed today has already been prepared in collaboration with the PRT," Sullivan spoke up. "We'll be discussing the security implications of this meeting with the good officer standing outside after we're done." He gave a lopsided smirk. "While the statement has been drafted in together with the PRT, it doesn't change the fact that this is more an in-house issue in the first place. On an individual basis, we would like to retain some independence."
"Fine by me." I'd be fucked anyway if I attacked a fellow student. Period. "Would I still be allowed to show it and maybe give small demonstrations?"
"Let me check…" Sullivan opened his briefcase and retrieved a single sheet of paper and scanned its contents. "You would be allowed to show it, but it can't ever leave your hand."
"I also have to ask you whether there'd be a possibility for more harmless looking weapons," Howell added while Sullivan handed me the document.
I went through a mental list of the materials I gathered from the kecha wacha. "I could make a weapon that looks just like a staff if that's better."
"Would that staff have any hidden or visible blades or spikes?" I shook my head. "Yes, that would indeed be better."
It looked like I'd be spending plenty more time raising and training my cute little Atlas.
"Next, I just want to quickly address your grades. I realize that much of it has to do with the bullying you had to deal with as well as direct sabotage but we still fear you're behind. We have decided to have your teachers observe you the coming weeks to determine where you stand. If they find areas where you're lacking, we'll arrange for some extra lessons so you can catch up."
I groaned.
"It'll only be something temporary and the more effort you'll put in, the sooner you'll be rid of it." I didn't like her mischievous grin that flickered across her face.
She had me and she knew it. Getting more time to Tinker would be enough motivation to give my all and I had the feeling she knew.
"Fine," I hesitantly agreed.
"Then," Sullivan spoke, handing me a pen. "All that is left is for you to sign the declaration of non-malicious intent and I'll send the document to your dad so he can sign as well. Or fight it if he has complaints. He should have plenty of experience with these kinds of things. Take your time reading it through and don't be afraid asking if you aren't sure about something."
I read through and realized it really looked like another legal attempt to cover their collective asses and that it only mentioned weapons I carried on my person. I signed it at the correct spot with date and place.
"Before I forget," Howell began as I handed back both paper and pen to the lawyer. "I'm sure you're glad to hear that we do not tolerate gang behavior and bullying. I can't promise anything would be done right away since we would have to start an internal investigation, but such reports will be taken seriously. So, don't hesitate if – however unlikely the chance might be – if something like that happens to contact a teacher or me directly."
I smiled. "Thanks."
I had my doubts whether it would work, of course, but at least they pretended to care.
Howell typed something on her computer. "All right, I see your next class is Biology. In room B42. It's in the other building on the left two floor down if you take the corridor connecting the two. You should be able to find it and otherwise, you can simply ask someone."
I nodded and the three of us rose at the nearly same time. "It has been nice meeting you, Taylor."
Once again, I shook the outreached hand – this time with a bit more confidence. "The same, vice-principal Howell."
"I'm looking forward learning what you have in store for us," Sullivan said as we shook hands. "Just try to avoid giving me too much work, all right?"
"I'll try, Mr. Sullivan," I replied with a small chuckle and made my way to the door.
"Would you send in the PRT agent in when you pass him?" Howell asked before I reached it.
"Sure," I replied as I placed my hand on the door handle.
A short conversation with the agent in question later, I was on my way to the classroom in question. I reached it with five minutes to spare after only getting lost a tiny bit.
That meant I had enough time to be spotted by the teacher and thus got introduced to Mr. Spears.
The dreaded introduction to the class was less of a fuss than I expected. It mostly involved a lot of awkward silence as they tried not to stare at me and utterly failed at it.
It was pretty much a similar reaction to the students I met during my little adventure of finding the room. I hadn't been able to figure out whether they were simply afraid to hurt my feelings because they knew what had happened, were too shy or were straight up afraid of me.
The lesson on the contents of human cells went off without much of a hitch. I had to ask Kristie, my closest neighbor a couple of times for definitions when Winslow's lacking education made itself apparent, but other than that I was able to keep up. It helped that, apparently, my Tinker/Thinker ability apparently gave me some innate understanding of biology that extended to the cellular level. I would still have to learn the names but the rest should come pretty easily.
The take-home message of that lesson was that the mitochondria were indeed the powerhouses of the cells. I knew there was more than just that.
That and that the chairs with their attached "desk" weren't made for my slightly off proportions and thus annoyingly uncomfortable
There were some attempts at small-talk during the break but most of them had the same sudden case of shyness which meant that I had to carry the conversation. Sadly, that was one skill the Trio managed to exorcise out of me during their reign of terror.
The result was awkwardness that threatened to spiral out of control if Jimmy hadn't intervened.
Jimmy was a member of the Arcadia's cape fan club. He had become frustrated by everybody's inaction and decided to take matters into his own hands. At least he managed to ask how my back was first before he started his rapid-fire questions regarding my powers.
By the time Mr. Spears had to break our little group up, I was showing him my knife and was telling him how I made the thing. Well, I tried to. If his confused expression was any indication, I wasn't that successful.
But either way, Jimmy was pleasant enough to talk to that I let myself be convinced to join him over lunch. While I didn't have any lessons that afternoon (long life "vocational" activities), I apparently still had to meet up with someone of New Wave if I interpreted Dad's hints correctly and I was hungry anyway. Besides, it was nice to talk to someone without being judged or fearing to become the butt of a cruel joke. I hadn't known how much I missed that.
I was in the middle of telling him my impressions of Armsmaster when he simply stopped walking.
"Hey Chris!" he shouted down the hallway. "Look who's in my Biology class."
I turned to look for the Chris in question when…
High technology. Modularity with sub-specialization of energy manipulation and anti-gravity. Fuse neural cortex with that of "Armsmaster" with radiant mucus. Ring of silver rathalos scales and nova crystal setting.
It took a second before I realized that Kid Win was approaching me. It took two more before the implications of my "scan" truly hit me.
It wasn't just that I could use fellow capes as raw materials. No, I could actually combine their powers and make them stronger than they'd be on their own. I could make them whole. I felt like they wanted to. It was even a bit easier to make than something made purely out of one of them.
And I was staring. Hard.
"What's the matter, Taylor? You're zoning out on me." Jimmy had noticed as well.
Fuck.
Oh, would you look at that, another mild cliffhanger. How does this keep happening?
Feedback and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated and might just motivate me to write quicker.
