Author's Note: Any similarities to any of the My Little Pony shows or merchandise are coincidence. Taylor isn't familiar with the MLP practice of calling winged unicorns alicorns, so her hero name isn't a reference to that.
New Wave sent us home with some documents to look over and sign as well as an appointment to meet with Glory Girl and Lady Photon the next day for some power testing.
When we got home, Dad fervently said to me, "I hope you don't mind if I never want to go flying with you at night again, Taylor."
We had had to fly low so that I could follow the streets home, which ironically made things worse for Dad. Finding the Boardwalk at night was easy, our neighborhood, not so much.
The first order of business when we got home was to make it so that I could sleep in my room. We ended up removing my bed, which was thankfully really easy with my power, and laying down a few camping mats and a sleeping bag for padding.
By then I was tired, emotionally more than physically, so I told Dad that I wanted to go to bed. I knelt my rear body down on the foot of the pads and then laid my upper body down flat. For the first time in my life I was grateful for my small chest size, even now I was only an A-cup which was a step up from the training bra I had worn. There was no way I'd ever be able to lie on my back or sides while I slept ever again.
The thought brought everything that had happened to me over the last two days crashing in on me. Whatever Elmindra had done to me when she first awoke me in the locker had numbed my emotions. I had been angry over what had happened to me, but it was a distant anger; now everything threatened to overwhelm me. I had plowed through shopping and meeting with Miss Militia and New Wave because I had had no choice, but it had all been well outside my comfort zone. I started to sniffle.
And now, I was having a hard time about the fact that I could no longer sleep in my bed and that I would have to learn how to sleep on my bellies—because I now had two. A manic giggle escaped my lips. Did I have two actual stomachs too? I remembered that centaurs in the Chronicles of Narnia had a horse stomach and a human stomach and had to eat different diets for each of them. At least I wasn't craving grass or hay!
I heard Dad shifting around getting himself ready for bed. I didn't want to worry him, so I quieted down. It didn't make it any easier to fall asleep.
When I woke up in the morning, I examined myself to see what kind of grooming I needed. I was rather surprised to find that I wasn't dirty—at all—especially considering my bright white fur and the fact that I'd never washed after the locker incident yesterday; it had never crossed my mind. I changed into a two-legged version of myself and used the toilet and examined myself in the mirror. My hair looked brushed and washed despite the fact that I'd just woken up. Did I have a minor Breaker power too?
I decided to take a quick shower anyway. I was surprised as the water that remained on my skin and hair sloughed off me as soon as I changed back to my now-normal four-legged form. I frowned at the puddle on the floor, but grinned as I used my power to pull a towel off the rack. Bending over to clean it up would be a major pain in my four-legged form.
The towel acted very oddly in my telekinetic grip. It hung from its exact center; I couldn't pick it up by the ends or roll it up. I could turn it on any of its three axes, but that was it. When I turned it upside down, it flopped over, but still hung from its center.
I shrugged and moved it to the floor. I was still able to use it to wipe up the water. When I used my power to lift it up again, I noticed that the place my power was lifting it from was different. I moved the towel up to get a better look at it and saw that one end of the towel was wetter than the other. Did my power only work on the center of mass?
When I went out into the living area of the house, Dad greeted me.
"I fixed pancakes," he said. "Help yourself."
Luckily Dad had made more than normal, since I had more room to fill. We were lucky that my appetite only increased by fifty percent.
Dad cleared his throat and said, "The papers that New Wave gave us are actually pretty simple. There's some trademark paperwork that says that if you leave New Wave you lose the right to use their mark and name, but can keep your hero name and costume as long as it doesn't contain any New Wave specific marks. That's a lot more generous than what I've read about the agreement you have to sign if you join the Protectorate or Wards. There's also a waiver in here saying that heroing is dangerous and that New Wave and its other members are not responsible if you get injured. There's also a form in here from the Youth Guard that informs us of your right as a minor to refuse any assignment that you feels is dangerous without any repercussion and my right as your guardian to do the same. There's also papers in here with New Wave's goals and purposes that we need to sign to indicate that we read them as well as the Youth Guard's guidelines and rules for heroes that are minors."
He sighed. "I'm not okay with you going out and putting yourself in danger, but since you're going to be a target anyway, I think it's better for you to be affiliated with a group like New Wave or the Protectorate. I've signed them, but I want you to promise me you'll be careful, okay?" He looked at me pleadingly.
"Okay, Dad," I said. "I'll be careful."
"There's a bunch of messages on the phone that from last night from news stations and papers asking for an interview. The must have all figured out who you were while we were gone."
I groaned. "Let me talk to Lady Photon before we agree to any interviews. I'm surprised that it took them so long."
"I looked at the threads on Parahumans Online and the mods were blocking all names due to 'an ongoing investigation,' but the powers that be can't stop all leaks." He smiled wanly. We knew it would only be a matter of time before who I was spread.
"I'm surprised they aren't camped outside our house," I muttered.
"I'm a little surprised too," Dad said, "but the press is even more fastidious about following the unwritten rules than Capes are. Capes typically have some defense against other capes, but the press—not so much. If you wait too long to give an interview, we'll probably have the more daring ones come out of the woodwork."
The "unwritten rules" protected the families of capes and their secret identities. I wasn't exactly sure what they entailed exactly, but no one could read PHO without hearing about them and getting a general sense.
"Are you going to school today?" he asked after a few moments.
"I'd rather not," I said. "I'm not in the mood to be treated like a freak."
"You're not a freak, Taylor!" Dad exclaimed.
"These are the people who left me trapped in that locker!" I said. "They already thought I was a freak and loser! Sure, some of them might be friendly now that I have powers, but I'd rather not deal with people that shallow cosying up to me."
"You'll have to deal with school at some point," he warned.
"I'm hoping that the School District caves to Mrs. Dallon quickly," I said.
"Okay," Dad said. "You can have the rest of the week off from school and then we'll see from there."
"Thanks, Dad," I said with a weak smile.
After Dad left for work and I cleaned up a little, I bit the bullet and looked at what they were saying about me online. I fired up Parahumans Online which was a combination forum and wiki that specialized in talking about capes. It was pretty much the go-to website for information on Capes. People liked it because a lot of capes—heroes and villains both—posted there. The mods verified capes and placed a tag by their user names indicating that they had been verified.
It didn't take long for me to find the thread dealing with my trigger. I looked at the video links, which I admitted were actually fascinating to look at from an outside point of view, and started to look through the posts with a sick fascination.
Eventually I had to turn away from the computer. I read 5 of the 50 pages before I couldn't stand it any more. There were a couple of posters who got banned for soliciting me because I was underage—which I found utterly disturbing. The thing that really got me upset were the obvious Winslow students. Most of them talked about how weird and antisocial I was and how I'd probably join a gang. There were also a few posts that were deleted completely, which by the context of the other posts tried to say that I had deserved the locker. Those were the ones which ultimately made me turn away. A few tried to defend me—a guy with the handle XxVoid_CowboyxX was banned for trying to out Emma, Sophia, and Madison.
The mods redacted all mentions of my name or my antagonists' names. They explained that even though I would probably not be able to keep my identity secret, they wanted to give me a chance to make arrangements for the protection of my family, just in case.
There was also a thread about me specifically. It had a link to the trigger thread, but asked that it be kept to knowledge or speculation about my powers and possible affiliation. They had links to videos of me flying, running through traffic, and my visit to the mall. The videos of me moving around fascinated me even more than my transformation had. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that that was me. The comments in this thread were tamer and more manageable. There were still some people that creeped me out or made me mad. The more generic "freak" comments were more manageable than the "she deserved it" comments in the trigger thread.
I created a new account with the name "Alicorn" and sent a private message to a mod to ask how to get verified as a cape. The mod responded back saying that I needed a picture of me in costume posed with the phrase "Brockton Bay baked beans beat Boston baked beans!" in the picture. The phrase was meant to make sure that it was me and not just someone else who had managed to take a picture of me.
I didn't have a costume, but figured a nice blouse would do for now. I went and changed into my white blouse, since all New Wave costumes had white as their major color. I grabbed a notebook and wrote the silly phrase in big block letters. I found our digital camera and figured out the timer function. I looked for a place to set the camera, but then decided to just hold it up with my telekinesis. I thought I might not have to use the timer, but then I realized my power was bad for pushing buttons without another object to push them. I ended up setting the timer and then moving the camera away from me with my power in order to get a picture. I sent in my picture and received a notice that I was now a verified cape, but I decided to wait until after New Wave's press release to post.
After that, I spent the rest of the time until lunch browsing the wiki portion of the site to scope out the powers of the local heroes and villains.
After a lunch of ham sandwiches I looked through the paperwork that New Wave had given us. I snorted at the Youth Guard paperwork. The "rules" they described were a bunch of poorly-worded guidelines and warnings that gave them the power to intervene on my behalf if they received word that my team or guardian were not doing a reasonable job protecting my safely adequately. Judging by the current state of things in Brockton Bay, I probably didn't have to worry about them sticking their noses in.
The last piece of paper work was the "Endbringer Permission Slip." Dad had marked "Only participate if Brockton Bay was attacked." This brought me up cold. I hadn't had the time to even think about facing Endbringers. I knew that New Wave sometimes participated. Panacea in particular almost always went—although she did not participate in the fighting.
Could I face an Endbringer? My powers seemed to require close range. Ten feet was much closer to an Endbringer than I ever wanted to be. I was pretty sure I had Brute powers, but I doubted that they were the right type that I could get close to Behemoth, the Hero-Killer. He had an aura that killed any but the strongest Brute that got close to him. Simurgh, the Future-Killer, was a telekinetic on a huge scale. I had to assume she could easily cancel out my Shaker power. Leviathan, the City-Killer, was supposed to be incredibly fast and he could move incredible amounts of water. Did my powers work on water?
I walked over to the sink and filled it with water. I focused my telekinetic sense on the water. I could feel it; I tried lifting it out of the sink. It rose from the sink in a globe. I tried to shape it, but couldn't figure out how. I removed some of it and a smaller globe floated away from the main mass of water. Maybe there was some way I could play with this. Still, I had to assume that Leviathan would be more powerful than me in controlling water.
What real use would I be in an Endbringer fight? I would be excellent for search and rescue. My senses would be useful for finding people and while there were lots of Movers faster than me, I could move lots of people. There were perhaps a few high-end teleporters that could move more people than me, but I could be very useful in evacuating the civilians and injured.
I decided to give Dad a call.
"Hello, Dockworker's Association, Brockton Bay. This is Danny speaking," Dad said when he answered the phone.
"Dad, this is Taylor."
"Hi, Taylor. Are you doing alright?"
"I'm fine, Dad. I was looking through the papers for New Wave and found the Endbringer Permission Slip."
"Taylor. . ." he said warningly.
"Look, Dad. I'm not asking to fight the Endbringers themselves, but I was thinking about my powers and I think I could contribute a lot in evacuation and search and rescue."
Dad was silent for what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a minute.
"Dad?" I prompted.
"I don't want you to go," he said. "I know it's selfish of me, but I don't want you near those things. You don't know how hard it was for me to mark down that you could fight if one came to Brockton Bay. I only did it because I didn't think you would listen if I told you 'no.'"
"Dad," I said, trying to sound like an adult. "I'm not asking to fight the Endbringers. Just think of all the people I could save."
He hesitated again. "I'm not going to change my mind right now. Maybe we can revisit this when we understand your powers better."
I sighed. "Okay, Dad. See you tonight."
"Love you, kiddo."
We both hung up. On the one hand I was a little relieved. If the Endbringers didn't scare you, you were crazy. Even powerhouses like the Triumvirate had to be scared of Simurgh, even if they could shrug off hits from the other two. The fact that I was relieved to not be able to fight them made me feel guilty.
I went through and signed all of the forms. The Endbringer form made me think again about what limits there were to my Shaker power. I seemed to have pretty fine control of the position and orientation of an object under my control, but I couldn't manipulate it beyond that.
I could control solids and liquids. Could I control gases too? I stretched out my telekinetic sense and focused. I could feel the air, but only if I focused my control into a much smaller area—about the size of a volleyball. I moved the ball of air around, generating a small breeze. It was strange, I was feeling the individual molecules of air. I could even separate the different types of molecules. Most of them felt like one of two types, but there were small amounts of other molecules. I separated the largest type, nitrogen, if I remembered right, from all the others. While I was doing this, my telekinetic sense was limited to the small ball of air. So there was a limit to the number of different objects I could control. How many molecules were in eight inches diameter of air?
I spent an hour on the internet figuring it out. The calculations themselves were simple, I just needed to research what equations to use. Assuming an ideal gas, converting eight inches to meters and calculating the volume of a sphere, assuming 101,325 pascals pressure and 298 kelvins temperature, I calculated 0.18 moles in eight inches of air. Multiplying by Avogadro's Number gave me 1.1×10^23 molecules. I spent another few minutes figuring out what number that was: a hundred sextillion. I knew my estimate was rough, but A HUNDRED SEXTILLION!
I was in shock. The only frame of reference I had was actually using my power to separate the air molecules. I was sure that I could fill my entire ten-foot sphere around me with sand and be able to control every grain of sand. I wasn't sure what I would do with it or where I would fit in it, but I could do it.
I decided that I was done thinking about my powers and decided to read some fiction. I went to the my room and glanced over my bookshelf and my eyes settled on The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. It had been a favorite of my mother. Despite just deciding to avoid thinking about my powers, I couldn't resist. I grabbed the book and knelt down on my sleeping pad and started to read it again.
Author's Note: I'm not real satisfied with my paragraphs summarizing PHO's reaction to Taylor, but I figured it would be worse if I tried to excerpt PHO passages. I realize it's traditional for Worm fanfics to include them, but I doubt I will. Writing dozens of short comments in different writing styles just doesn't appeal to me and if I don't enjoy writing it, the chance of you enjoying reading it goes down too.
The number of molecules in eight inches diameter of air in ambient conditions is a quick calculation I did with a calculator, so it's possible I made a mistake in punching in buttons.
Ideal Gas Law: PV=nRT
Volume: V=4/3πr^3 for a sphere
Radius: r in meters
Pressure: P in pascals
Temperature: T in kelvins
Ideal Gas Constant: R 8.314 J/(K*mol)
Solve for moles: n
Multiply n by Avogadro's Number (6.022×10^23) to get molecules