Scott and Taylor did their best to enjoy what time they had together. They'd go to the mall, to the movies and the park. Scott was pleased to see that Taylor had taken up running and even joined her, showing her some of his techniques for recovery and prep. He showed her how to get better with sprinting intervals, and even bought her an exercise outfit. Much of her time was taken up by school and his father's by work. For much of the days Scott would spend an hour a day on housework. Cleaning, washing clothes, things to occupy the time. It was serenely domestic. He researched the cape culture. He researched the local capes and the wards. He looked through his files he had of the girls who were tormenting Taylor.
He had to make it stop. He couldn't stand the thought of someone treating her like that. His anger always was on the verge of overcoming him when he thought about it. Even now, as he sat in his room, he grit his teeth and seethed at his own impotence. He doubted that his email to the PRT was being taken seriously. He'd have to take action if he wanted anything to change. He asked Yogorzabothl what he should do, if she would help him. She suggested that they try to use the microphone on her cell phone or the camera to record instances of her abuse. Better yet making her phone call the Protectorate as she and her buddies carried out her abuse. These were pretty good ideas, but if the first bit of electronic evidence was dismissed, then it was likely that others would be as well.
At this point Scott did not feel above committing his own abuse. Maybe threatening them over text, spamming them with computer viruses, or even physical threats. He recognized that he should have been repulsed at the idea of doing those things to teenage girls but he couldn't bring himself to be remorseful. These girls were no better than monsters, taking such pleasure in the suffering of others. He'd like to say that he wasn't tempted to kill her. He had certainly killed for less. He had killed other men on the assumption that they were working for Abu Hassan. Most had never even touched him. Some weren't even holding weapons and had surrendered. He still killed them. He had shamefully taken a vindictive pleasure in paying his captors back all the pain they had dealt him and his fellow soldiers. He believed himself physically capable of killing Sophia Hess, A.K.A. Shadow Stalker. But to do it without being caught would be truly challenging. And to be caught would be the end of him and his family. The risks did not outweigh the benefits unless he could be absolutely sure he would not be caught. He was not prepared, would not be for some time. While he knew where her house was within 20 meters, he had no clue what it looked like, where the bedrooms were, if there was a security detail from the Protectorate and PRT, or when her parents went to bed.
Things he would want a team to know before sending them after a target. If he were to kill her, he'd need time to plan. Time he didn't have before he had to leave Brockton Bay.
He decided to send a virus to Hess' cell phone and computer so that when she sent a message to her buddies or sent an email from her phone or computer to Taylor, it would also be sent to the Protectorate. He could even do this remotely using his Bluetooth device. At least use it to get the virus on the cell phone and then from there get it on her computer.
The virus was easily acquired. an old acquaintance that owed him a favor could code it quickly enough for him and he could set the specifications for it. Maybe this time the Protectorate would bite.
-STAYSHADY-
One morning, Scott was sitting at the kitchen table idly looking at various tech parts at an online store chatting with Yogorzabothl in human form. He had taken the bandages off his hands to give his wounds some air. The palm of his hands were almost completely healed, only a dark scab maring his skin. Sitting directly across from him, Yogorzabothl was wearing a change of real clothes Scott had bought for her to wear. She was sporting a pair of jeans and a flowery shirt. Her straight black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He would intermittently swing his gaze up to find her looking back at him with wide brown eyes. I warmed his face to see her staring at him. Her presence filled his senses. He could feel her in his mind. Feel her gaze and feel her churning ocean of unintelligible thoughts and unmistakable emotion. The foreignness mixed with the unnatural familiarity of it all stole his breath.
"I've been thinking," His gaze was locked on the screen of his computer but his attention was squarely on his companion. "I'm ready to start with the steps of the ritual."
Probably knowing what he was about to say before he said it she answered, "I will tell you how to start but first I want to tell a little bit more about the Spark. It's not simple to describe it with your language or even in a way that will make sense in your mind. It will not be clear to you until you successfully complete the ritual. The best I can describe it is an expanded state of mind. You see things that were not apparent before. Ultimately it's a heightened state of consciousness. But it truly affects every species differently as far as I know. It may even affect every individual differently. You will still be human in all the ways that truly matter, but you will be different. You will be an aberration on the universe." She paused a moment and looked out the kitchen window. "The ritual requires an amount of self mutilation and blood sacrifice. The self mutilation will likely involve exposing your brain among other things. The exact required amount of blood and self mutilation will vary. Learning the exact procedure will be comparatively easier. It will require some guided ...meditation. I will have to show you what to do. Your gift will be a great boon in this."
"What is my power? I'm not sure what it does specifically. All I can see is that it let me bring you to my world."
She snorted and folded her arms. "That's not your power, it's mine. I can reconstitute myself anywhere in the universe as long as I can see it and I choose to come to your location when I hear your call for me. From what I can see, you are engaging in some sort of cosmic communion. Many species can do this to some degree. You though… I believe your affinity for it is much greater than in any mortal I've ever seen. More akin to the Spawn of the Gods."
"What does that mean? Cosmic communion?"
"You have molded your mind to mine in a way that would be impossible for another of your species. Of any species. You could… call out to me, make me feel what you feel. I could feel your mind from a thousand light-years away. I think, someday, you may be able to truly commune with the Spawn of the Gods, maybe the Gods themselves. This ritual would be impossible without your ability. And I think your ability would benefit from a Spark of the Eldritch Truth. Right now your voice can only be heard by the closest and most perceptive of beings. It's too weak to have any effect or hold any interest to anything but a being such as me."
Scott was quiet for some time. He mulled over her words. What does it mean to be an aberration on the universe? How long before he could reasonably complete the ritual?
His attention was snapped back to reality when his companion spoke up. "Your sister has seen us," she sounded vaguely amused.
"What!" He whipped his head around and saw Taylor looking through the front window. "What do we tell her?" He was about to panic.
"Well, I'm a completely normal girl. I don't know what you're so worried about." He didn't have to look to know that she was smiling at him. On the verge of laughing at his paranoia.
This was the scene Taylor Hebert saw as she stepped into her home. She paused in the doorway as she looked at the pretty woman with dark hair and brown eyes, a cute smile across her lips gazing at her perturbed brother. She had not realized that he'd still be at home.
"What are you doing home so early?"
"Um…" Taylor did not know what excuse to give that he wouldn't see right through. She may as well tell the truth. Maybe she could put it off... "I-uh… Hi, I'm Taylor. I don't think we've met before." She extended her hand to the young woman to Scott's visible irritation.
"I'm Lilian! I'm a friend of Scott's. It's so great to finally meet you! He's told me so much about you." She shook Taylor's hand and smiled genuinely at her. She was immediately suspicious, sharpening her gaze to this Lilian's eyes. 'Friend… sure,' she thought to herself.
"Um... Scott? Can we speak in private?" Taylor looked sidelong at Lilian for a second.
"Oh, I can see when I'm not needed," Lilian was almost too cheerful for being so summarily dismissed and she walked upstairs and into Scott's room.
"Who is she?"
"She's a friend of mine." Taylor could tell Scott was ready to talk about her skipping school and not his lady friend. "Why are you home so early?"
In response, Taylor raised her backpack which, until now, Scott had not realized how thoroughly wet it was. "They got me again." Unshed tears welled in her eyes. She was not going to cry dammit! She could deal with this. If she didn't think about it- didn't talk about it, it would be okay.
Scott moved to her and embraced her and she dropped her bag with a wet thud. He didn't say anything which Taylor was thankful for because she didn't trust herself to say anything without choking up. He just held her tightly for a moment.
When he released her he picked up her backpack. "Come on let's see what we can salvage."
As it turned out, not much. The liquid they had used was viscous and stained the bag an ugly brown along with the majority of her stuff. Luckily, she hadn't brought any textbooks with her that day. Scott resolved to take her to the store to replace her things.
Once Taylor had cleaned herself up and gotten changed, they jumped into Scott's car and headed off to the mall. "I want you to tell Dad. And then I want the two of you go to the school and tell them what's been going on. What they've been doing to you is criminal, Taylor!"
"I know that! I've tried to tell them before but nobody believes me. The teachers only listen to Emma and her friends." She sagged a little in the seat, hunching her shoulders.
"They have to listen to you if Dad's there." He knew he was probably grasping at straws with that. "You could go to the police."
"That doesn't sound like it would end well for me."
"Well then what would fix the problem? I'm seeing only a few options."
"You don't have to try to solve all my problems like I can't solve them myself."
"I just want to help you Taylor. I wouldn't say anything unless I thought it might help."
"I'll think about it."
"I could go with you when you go to the police station. Well if you go tomorrow or the day after." Scott had to go back to South Carolina soon. His long leave was almost over and Taylor would feel his absence keenly.
"Maybe."
-STAYSHADY-
In the end, Taylor decided she would go to the police station with Scott and her father the very next day. Scott had taken the time to give various 'anonymous tips' that included the photographs he found on Sophia Hess' cell phone. Taylor had brought with her her notebook that chronicled everything the three girls had done to her for more than a year. It would not hold up in court but it would definitely get the police sniffing around the three bullies. He doubted it would yield the desired results but it was worth a try.
A police officer took the three of them to a back room where he asked Taylor a round of questions with simple enough answers. He did not seem to doubt what she was telling him.
"For the time being I don't think it is safe for you to be in that school. What you've told me speaks of criminal endangerment from the staff of Winslow school at the least. Those girls, if these allegations stick they way I want them to, they'll be expelled and see some time in juvie. I'm headed to Winslow after I speak with my supervisor. I'll call you after with more information. For now, Taylor, don't go back to Winslow."
As they were escorted out of the backroom and into the lobby, Scott was shocked that everything had gone so smoothly. Why they had taken the time to hear an accusation that was relatively minor compared to what the BBPD were usually saddled with. It was their job, but Scott was impressed that they were so quick to listen to Taylor's plight.
"Hebert! Hold on a second." Scott whipped around to see Mr. Philip Jackson walking towards him.
"What are you doing here Mr. Jackson?" Scott was beginning to connect the pieces. He must have somehow caught wind of someone meddling with one of the Brockton Bay Wards and correctly guessed who it was and why.
Philip Jackson dragged Scott off to an empty office with barely a word.
"What's going on?"
"I'll tell you what's going on, you're being a total dumbass! Stalking teenage girls!? What the fuck were you thinking! If the PRT had any inkling that it was you, you'd never work again! You'd be fucking ruined! Why didn't you just ask somebody for help?"
"I wasn't aware you'd be willing to help me with something so trivial…"
"If you're about to resort to doing something illegal to solve a problem, you better fucking call someone. I don't care if it's 4 in the morning and you're about to drive home drunk, you call fucking somebody! That's what your NCOs are for! You tell them your little fucking issue and then they either help you or find you someone who can. All you had to do was ask for help! A guy like you, with a silver star, a fucking 'hero'? Some people would trip over themselves to help you. Fuck!"
"Um-"
"You could have had your sister put into Arcadia with no questions asked. What were you thinking emailing the goddamn PRT evidence of your stalking of a teenage girl!"
"I thought that if I gave her supervisors evidence of her misconduct, they would punish her and pull her from Winslow, maybe it would violate her parole and she'd go back to juvie." Scott was visibly mollified. "I didn't know my needs were so important," he said with a hint of sarcasm.
Mr. Jackson was incensed, "They sure as hell shouldn't be! You just put yourself on the radar. If it weren't for me, you'd have been arrested and questioned at the least. You might have gotten away with it. You did okay encrypting your shit, but damn! If they had the sense to ask for a decryption key or gave it to someone who had it you'd be fucked." He paused and took a breath. The slight redness in his face fading. "You're lucky things turned out so well for you. I need you more than the PRT needs Hess. I even got the Police Chief to take your sister's case for you. You have to realize that while most people don't know who the fuck you are, the people who matter- the people with all the power- sure as shit do."
"Um- for what it's worth, I'm sorry I caused so much trouble for you."
He sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. "At least you're not in any trouble with the PRT or the law and you didn't reveal your power to anyone. Small mercies."
"What's going to happen to Hess?"
"I don't even care. She's probably going back to juvie. Damn shame. She was worth something as a Ward you know?"
Scott was not going to dignify that with a response. As selfish as it was, he was glad she was getting her just desserts. "How did you know we'd be coming the station today?"
"You think I didn't have your shit monitored after the second time you tried to 'help' send Hess to Juvie?"
"Isn't that illegal? The government can't monitor a Citizen like that."
"You think I give a fuck? And you're one to talk."
Scott resolved to scrub his equipment and probably replace them. He'd need new emails, a new phone, new everything. It might be useless but it would make him feel better.
"I've wasted enough time here. I need you to understand that everything you do is under scrutiny, now. You can't break the law like this anymore."
"I understand, sir." Mr. Jackson nodded and made to leave the room. "And thank you. For helping Taylor."
"Just don't let this shit happen again." With that he was gone. By the time Scott had gotten out of the room, he was no longer in the building.
Scott was just thankful that Taylor's problem had been dealt with. If it hadn't stopped when it did, he probably would have done something that couldn't be swept under the rug. He had been so prepared to find a more permanent solution to the issue. It would have been so easy. Why wasn't he more worried.
-STAYSHADY-
"Do you like the name Lilian?" Scott and 'Lilian' were sitting on the beach again in their usual lawn chairs and warm clothes. It was their last night in Brockton Bay before Scott had to go back to South Carolina. The chill sank into his bones and he suppressed a shiver.
"You like it. And it rolls off the human tongue better than Yogorzabothl. I think it would be easier to introduce myself as Lilian to others."
"Why would you be introduced to others? You don't have any identification! No citizenship, no birth certificate…"
"No, but if we want to spend more time with each other I will at least be seen occasionally by people who know you."
"You won't last a moment of any meaningful investigation. You have no parents, no references, no way they won't think you're a spy."
"I know these things." She was quieter. Scott realized he said something wrong somewhere. What had she said about spending more time together?
"I'm sorry. I do like the name. I like it a lot actually."
"That's why I chose it."
"Because it would please me?"
"Yes. I knew it would please you in some small way." She was looking into the sea, her black hair blowing in the light breeze. Her nose and cheeks were red.
"You don't have to choose it just because I like it."
"I know. But it makes me happy that you like it." She shivered in her jacket. "You are the first compassionate being I've spoken to since the last of my race died out. I thought I'd never find another. That I can make you happy with something so small makes me happy too."
He stared at her and felt a heavy pang in his chest. "Come on let's get to the car. You're cold."
-STAYSHADY-
Saying goodbye to Taylor and their father was harder than it should have been. Once he was done in South Carolina, he'd be in Fort Madison. It was only an hour away by car and two by bus.
"You just call me whenever you feel like it." Scott knew how his father felt about cell phones but it didn't stop him. As soon as his dad got over his fear, he'd buy Taylor a cell phone.
"I know. And I expect a tour of your new station once you get settled."
"Of course. I'll even send you pictures."
"And you'll come home to visit as often as you can." Her voice was thick with emotion.
"Well, duh. No way I wouldn't come home whenever I can, Tayor. It'll be fine. Maybe I'll even surprise you at Arcadia one day."
She laughed a little at that. "Yeah, that would be fun." She gave one last hug and a watery smile.
"I love you."
"Love you too." Taylor released her brother and he started off to his car. "See you soon!" She called out.
He gave one last wave and a shout of "Bye!" as he pulled out of the driveway.
Taylor stood on the doorstep thinking about her brother. It had been a great visit. She wasn't sure she'd ever get to spend that much time with him again after the first year of him being gone. She was glad he was okay. She was so lucky to be going to Arcadia. With the new school hopefully she would find some new friends. Maybe she'd even get to meet the Wards. She thought about the costume she was making in the basement and her powers. She was going to be a hero no matter what. Maybe she'd even become a Ward. She would make her family proud. As she stepped into the basement (her lair for the time being) she felt a rush of hope and smiled toothily. She was so happy, she could dance!
-STAYSHADY-
Finding information about his new situation was as easy as calling his new supervisor on his cell phone. One 'Sergeant Reed'. He was very helpful telling him where to go and when, an all around friendly guy. He sounded older than the average E-5 type. Maybe 35. He was quite welcoming, saying, 'We haven't had anybody new come in for almost a year and a half. It'll be nice to have some fresh blood.'
He was not sure exactly where Sergeant Reed fit in with the whole Task Force Green Wings thing. Was he a cape? Was he in the loop at all? Scott was hesitant to voice these questions. He decided that his queries would be answered soon. His curiosity could wait. The most annoying part of transferring to Fort Madison was that he had had to go all the way back to South Carolina for a week for all the transfer paperwork, not to mention his cumbersome things. He did have a multitude of junk the Army had given him. Most was useless in his previous occupation. He winced as he thought that much of it would have been quite useful in his time of need. A helmet, a ballistic vest… even a rucksack.
He tried to not think about his ordeal. It weighed heavily in his mind. Like it was a monster just around the corner ready to reduce him to a puddle of anxiety and terror. The experience had truly messed him up. He'd catch himself shaking for no reason. His dreams filled with too much water…
Scott clenched his fists. The Staff Sergeant on staff duty hardly noticed. She was focussed on the computer in front of her after she had absentmindedly called for someone to come get him. He hated how vulnerable he was. How affected he was. How he had broken under the stress. He would have given his torturer anything to make him stop. If given a chance he might have even killed himself. He was not rational. If not for the unnatural calmness that effused him when he triggered he would have probably died anyway. If not for Yogorzabothl he would probably not be functioning nearly as well as he was. He still suspected he needed therapy anyway.
"Ah, Hebert!" Scott turned quickly from the staff duty desk in front of him. He had been waiting for someone from his new unit to show him where to go.
"Sergeant Jonathan Reed, how are you?" Sergeant Reed had thick glasses that seemed to magnify his eyes and a wide smile. He had thinning hair and strong handshake. A quick glance at his left breast showed a wreathed knife, same as him, and an Air Assault badge.
"Hebert, Scott. I'm good Sergeant." He snapped to parade rest as was appropriate for an NCO. Scott suspected it was unnecessary, but it was better to show proper respect anyway.
"Dude, you can relax. That shit's not necessary with me," He didn't seem impressed or even pleased. Oh well, better safe than sorry. "Well, I'll be your first line for the foreseeable future. Boy, you're in for a treat. Come on we've got some paperwork we can get done here."
"Roger."
Going to some of the S-shops and signing a million papers (non-disclosure agreements, housing agreements, Life insurance, and several other pointless wastes of paper) gave Scott a chance to talk to Sergeant Reed.
"How many others are in the platoon?" Scott asked.
Sergeant Reed was quick to provide an answer, "We've currently got 4 here at Madison. Three are deployed and a couple are TDY for a few weeks. You'll meet them soon."
It was truly not difficult getting him to start talking. He just plowed on, hardly needing any prompting from Scott at all. "Shit, we've been expecting you for a few weeks. We even got you pulled from the rest of the incoming personnel train at reception. That place fucking sucks. They treat you like retards there. You know, when I first showed up, married, freshly minted NCO, they made me live in a barracks room for 2 fucking weeks! Like, come on at least let me stay at a hotel with my wife! But yeah, you'll have a blast here. You'll love Third Platoon. We do have an office, but the deployment schedule is not bad and you get some pretty good training opportunities. Well everyone gets to use what's here on Madison but it does have some pretty good ranges and stuff."
The longer he talked, the more Scott began to suspect that his long-winded responses were more of a show for the others in the office. He was probably just imagining it. They were in the parent Brigade building, probably far from where his Company would have its office.
Once they finished, Scott headed for his car but Sergeant Reed stopped him. "Ride with me for now. We'll come back for your car in a bit. I want to show you around for a bit."
"Oh. Okay," Scott was a little put off by his offer. It was a sound suggestion.
Once they were off, in Sergeant Reed's dirty Jeep, he spoke up in a somber voice, "I want you to know that what we've got planned for you in the coming weeks won't be very pleasant. It's definitely to your benefit though. Everything we do at garrison is to make our operators better. We really just want to ascertain your abilities. Strengths, weaknesses, where you'd fit best on the team."
"Um… should we be talking about this here?" Scott was mildly alarmed. He always operated under the impression that you could only discuss sensitive information in a secure facility.
"Fuck no," He seemed jovial with a hint of spitefulness playing across his expression. "But I don't care. As long as nobody else hears we're good. Even if they bugged my damn car, they wouldn't do anything to us. The Colonel has our back. He'd probably get anybody to look the other way. But anyways. What's your power? The description I was given was pretty vague."
"I can uh, summon an alien creature from thin air." He felt unsure of himself as he said it. It was truly the bare minimum of what was really happening when he used his power. The truth was too personal- too much.
"Really? What can it do?"
"It's really strong and durable. And fast. It can kill a normal human pretty easily. And survive several rounds of 7.62."
"That's fucking awesome man! I mean, not everybody's power is combat oriented but when they are, they don't pull any punches! But you'll probably still use conventional weapons. I sure as hell do. You know, pose as normies until the time is right. Plus even most capes will die to a well placed grenade or a few rounds to the face." He gave a goofy sounding laugh. "Me? I can turn myself invisible. And I'm a damn good shot if I say so myself! I'll show you sometime. I'll let the others tell you about themselves. We've got some training planned for you in a couple days once you have your room sorted out and shit."
"I've got a question."
"Well, Shoot then."
"Will we be operating solely in foreign countries? Anything domestic? Is this the only group of powered soldiers?"
"Woah, asking the tough questions aren't you? I shouldn't really tell you before you've completed all your entry training but I'll tell you anyway. I have no doubt you'll pass. We do operate in the states some. If there's an endbringer attack, there's no doubt that we'll show up. And when there's a kill order on a nearby cape we may be tasked out. And in public emergencies. We usually stay out of public eye as much as possible. I mean our methods are not exactly kosher in the cape world if catch my drift."
"I can imagine."
"And to answer your other question: It's definitely classified. It's way above my paygrade. But between you and me, I'm pretty sure there are at least two other task forces similar to ours. I mean, if they are out there, the higher ups have done a hell of a job compartmentalizing us, probably to our detriment if anything. But come on. How could there not be? How could the DoD not have an Intelligence Community of Thinkers?" He was talking so casually about all this. Like me was discussing his pet. As he drove down the wide roads of the base, past similarly styled buildings towards an airfield. He had read that this airfield was abnormally large for what was housed there. Long enough to land a Space Shuttle. From what he could tell, all they flew out of the airfield was C-17s C-130s and various rotary wing aircraft that didn't even need a runway.
Along the way, Sergeant Reed pointed out to Scott the Post Exchange, the post office, the Dining Facility, and the medical clinic. Scott couldn't help but notice how few people seemed to be out and about. It was a very spread out base with lots of greenery. Some parts of the base were old and dilapidated, ready for demolition for probably more than ten years and others were pristine. The Charlie Company building was one such building. Not modern in design but definitely not old. It was far away from the Alpha and Bravo Company buildings, almost a half mile, but not far from where his barracks were to be.
"And here is where we meet for work call at 0900. Some of the time you'll have training scheduled elsewhere but this is pretty much where you'll spend most of your time. Luckily for us, we have a gym by our office in the basement with plenty of space for training. Haha!" His smile was as infectious as is was foreboding at least for Scott. He suspected he would not enjoy this "training" quite as much as Sergeant Reed.