Chapter Seven: On the Wings of Angels
~~~~ATotD~~~~
"Dad?"
From where he sat eating his breakfast, Danny looked across the table towards his daughter. He cocked an interrogative eyebrow.
His daughter, who looked almost disgustingly healthy as she sat eating oatmeal of all things, fidgeted a moment, then asked, "Do you remember, Mr Dumphy?"
"Ah... who?" Of course Danny remembered the man who'd nearly replaced him in his daughter's heart before he'd had words with him. The memory filled him with a sense of both shame and accomplishment, the former emotion steadily replacing the latter the more time passed. At one point, however, he'd reveled in his win over a foe who'd nearly stolen his daughter from him.
"Mr Dumphy? He owns that convenience store a few blocks away, Stephen's Corner Store? Although I'm pretty sure that his first name isn't Stephen."
"I..." What to say? "I remember him, I think. What brings him up this morning, Taylor? I can't remember the last time you shopped there."
Taylor shrugged. "Nothing big. I was running past this his store this morning and stopped by. He was inside cleaning up after a break in last night. I helped him to finish cleaning up and restock."
"Sounds like you had quite an adventure then. I'm proud of you for helping him." There, that made him seem like a better person than he really was, Danny thought guiltily.
Taylor looked down, then finally met Danny's eyes. "He wanted me to tell you hello from him. But I guess what I wanted to really tell you was that he was a big help back after Mom died."
Danny reached a hand over and squeezed his daughter's. "Taylor, I am sorry that I wasn't a better father to you. That it's taken me so long to come out of this; to become the father that you deserve."
She smiled, a look that nearly melted his heart. "It's okay, Dad. You're doing great and we're working through everything from back then. I thought that you should know that Mr Dumphy's the one who told me to be patient with you. To give you time to come out of it. That just because you were grieving, it didn't mean that you loved me any less."
Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Danny nodded. "He's right. I've always loved you, Taylor, even if I didn't do anything to show you." He hesitated a moment, then diffidently asked, "When did you have that conversation with him?"
Shrugging, his daughter said, "I dunno. It would've been a week or two before that time you picked me up from there. Remember that day it was raining and you didn't want me walking? You went inside to thank Mr Dumphy for looking after me, then we went home. It would've been... oh... a week before that."
Danny sat there, stunned. Because on the day that Taylor described, he hadn't gone inside to thank Michael Dumphy. Instead, he'd gone inside to confront the man. To accuse him of trying to steal his daughter's affection. Danny had even implied less than honorable intentions, something both men had known was a lie. In the end, though, the man had merely given him a crooked smile, and said he'd step back and for Danny to look after Taylor in his stead.
It was, perhaps, the second most shameful thing Danny Hebert had ever done in his entire life. The most shameful being that he hadn't carried through on his own part of their implied deal, continuing to deal with his daughter with a kind of benign neglect, something which had continued to happen until this past Christmas when his daughter had dragged him from his stupor kicking and screaming, at least metaphorically.
"Anyway, I was thinking that we should try to do more of our shopping there. I don't know why we ever stopped. Besides, that place you stop at for coffee all the time has got to be nearly twice as far away. What do you think?"
Fighting a catch in his throat, Danny smiled. "You know, you're really something, kiddo. I think that's a great idea. I'll stop by on the way to work on Monday to grab some coffee there. And to say hello. How's that sound?"
"Good."
Danny continued to eat mechanically, and after a short silence, asked, "So what are your plans for today?"
Taylor shrugged. "I dunno. I might take the bus down to the public library. I need to get online and I know you want to try to keep the phone line at home free. Besides, dial up is pretty slow."
"That's fine, just be careful. And-"
"Take your pepper spray with you," Taylor finished for him. Grinning, she got up and took her bowl to the kitchen sink, quickly and economically cleaning it. Walking back over to the table, she asked, "You done with that?"
Staring down at his empty place, which Danny didn't remember clearing, he nodded. "Yes, of course. Thanks for washing the dishes."
"No worries."
A half hour later found his daughter leaving the house dressed warmly for the weather. Danny hesitated a moment, then headed for his car. He needed to put in at least half a day's work. Those insurance forms wouldn't file themselves, after all.
Still, it wasn't the Union office that he pulled up in front of five minutes later. Staring at the large sign covering most of the front of the store, Danny hesitated. Then steeling himself, he got out of his car.
Walking through the door of the store a moment later, he listened to the jingle of the bell over the door. It sounded the same as it had nearly two years ago when last he'd heard it. Walking up to the counter, he met the calm blue eyes of the man who stood behind it.
"Michael."
"Danny."
~~~~ATotD~~~~
Taylor dropped through roof hatch to the floor in her hide out, heading over toward the large stack of items she'd 'bought' the night before. She took a moment to catalog everything, then stowed different items around the room. The tanks of acetylene and oxygen were stored along a wall where she'd already put together a work table using scavenged plywood and two by fours.
Further down, she stored the material for her costumes in plastic garbage bags so that it wouldn't get dirty. While the inside of the building was a lot cleaner than it had been when she'd first taken it over, it still wasn't pristine. It would need to be a lot cleaner before she'd feel comfortable enough to try to sew there.
Of course, that meant she'd need to actually sew her costumes at home once she'd cut it out here. In the meantime, she supposed she could use the worktable she'd made if she covered it with a plastic drop cloth. With a sigh, she set the plastic bags on the table. She'd pick up a few drop cloths later so that she could cut out her costumes.
Deciding to set them aside for now, Taylor walked over the bag containing the body armor she'd taken. She carried it back over to the table, setting it down there, and pulling out the various pieces.
Taylor looked over the various pieces of body armor. She had two vests, as well as two sets of pants. She also had six different inserts for the vests and pants that would increase the armor factor of each by a factor of two. Finally, she had a pair of helmets. Now she just had to try them on.
She quickly figured out that the black vest with the 'Pro-Armor' label fitted her the best. The other vest, from a company called 'ArmorPlus' wasn't a terrible fit, but it was just a little too loose for her slim torso. The first vest, on the other hand, Taylor was able to adjust with its straps until it was a perfect fit.
That vest also not only covered her chest and back, but had trauma panels that covered the sides of her upper body from under her arms to her waist as well. She also had an extra trauma plate that went into her chest panel, supposedly making it resistant to point blank fire from an assault rifle. Now to try on the pants, she thought.
Once she'd properly adjusted the armored pants, Taylor tried a few tentative movements, then a few more vigorous ones. She immediately noticed that she wasn't quite as flexible wearing these as she'd been before, but it was a minor problem at worst. The body armor didn't really slow her down, which was the most important thing.
Taylor took off at a full sprint towards the other end of the building. She ran right up the wall and threw herself backward as she neared the ceiling. She spun twice in the air, landing on her feet, her knees flexed.
Standing up straight, she decided that this would do just fine. Now to see how the helms fit.
The first helm that Taylor tried on fit okay, but she didn't like the way it made her head look. It was a bit too insect-like. The second one, on the other hand, was a slightly better fit, and even better, closely followed the contours of her skull. While it was likely that neither helm would stop a round from an assault rifle, they should be able to prevent a handgun from splattering her brains in the event she was shot. At least from the rear or side, as she was unwilling to use the front, screw on plate, as it blocked too much of her vision.
No, she'd have to take her chances there, Taylor decided, fingering the helm she'd decided on. But it should work to keep her at least a little safer. Plus, she'd already seen seen how easy it was to stay out of the line of fire of a weapon after fighting the two Wards last night.
Of course, that brought her thoughts back to Sophia Hess, but resolutely, Taylor dismissed the girl from her mind. Instead, she thought back on the fight, how after she'd finally dropped the weights, she'd easily dodged the bolts that Shadow Stalker had sent her way. She'd also begun moving even before the bolts fired, knowing that they would not strike her, since they weren't lined up properly.
Taylor thought that she could do the same thing with a gun. While she wasn't fast enough to actually dodge bullets once fired, she could move with an erratic precision to stay out of the line of fire, somehow knowing where a bullet would travel within a fraction of an inch just by seeing the direction the gun's barrel was pointed. Of course, so long as she didn't get shot in the face, it likely wouldn't matter, as she could heal herself.
Truthfully, though, she'd prefer not to get shot in the first place.
Deciding that she needed to go ahead and work on her costume, she headed towards a local True Value hardware store and picked up a dozen rolls of plastic sheeting for less than thirty dollars. Then she headed back toward her hideout.
Before she cut out of the main parts of her costume, Taylor took a moment to cut a small piece of metal that would end up as the bracing for her mask. The metal she used wasn't that thick, and she was able to work it fairly easily to approximate the shape of her upper face.
Once the diamond shaped metal base was done, she cut out the black leather that she was planning to use to wrap it. Once she was done with that, she grabbed the plastic wrap that she'd bought.
Covering the work table thoroughly, then taping the plastic down at the edges, Taylor took out one of the bolts of material she'd taken to make her costume from and spread out several yards of it. It was a thicker material, made from a mixture of cotton and artificial fibers that made it somewhat flame resistant as as well as easily cleanable. It was also very durable, based upon everything that she had read about it.
Of course, she'd picked it as much for the fact that it was beautiful as for its durability. In color, the material was a kind of battleship gray color, although possibly a shade darker. It was also surprisingly soft. The other bolts of material were also gray, although half were a few shades lighter in color.
Getting out the pattern she'd made, Taylor set out to cut out the panels that she would later sew together. It took her a little longer than she'd thought to do an entire costume, but part of that was because she wanted it to be perfect. The shears she'd taken the night before did a fantastic job of cutting the material.
Staring at the neat stacks of material that now sat on her work table, Taylor took a deep breath. Now the only thing she had to do was to sew it all back together.
Deciding that it would be a lot easier to use her mom's old sewing machine that it would be to sew it all by hand, Taylor headed home carrying a bag containing the pieces of her entire costume, including the new mask she'd cut out to replace the old one, as well as the body armor that she'd decided upon. The still unsewn fabric pieces sat on top of the other items to keep them clean and unwrinkled.
Turning down her street, Taylor was surprised to see several cars around the house of one of their neighbors. As she walked by, she saw Mr Khaled walking down the sidewalk away from the house. She hurried to catch up to the older man.
"Mr Khaled! Wait up!"
Shrewd eyes met Taylor's own as finally caught up to the man. "Ahh, Taylor, how are you today? A bit cold out, don't you think?"
She shrugged. "I'm good. Maybe a little cold, but I like it. How are you, Mr Khaled?"
The man made a gesture with one hand that seemed to say 'not too good, not too bad'. Aloud, he said, "I am okay. Not like poor Mrs Fillipy."
"What happened to Mrs Fillipy?" Taylor asked, only vaguely remembering the chubby woman, someone a few years older than her parents, who lived three houses past Mr Khaled.
Mr Khaled sighed. "She is dead. Cancer, her son said. She had a long battle, but finally lost it on Wednesday. They were having a memorial service at her home for friends and family today. I went by to pay my condolences."
Taylor stood there, speechless. She hadn't even known that the woman was ill. Slowly a memory wormed its way into her mind, of a knock on the door during the worst time of her life, a cheerful face, and a huge pot of chicken and dumplings that she had and her dad had eaten on for days. She had taken back the clean pot a few days later, and had gotten a big hug, something which she'd badly needed at the time.
Now the woman was dead, and she'd never be able to return the favor that she'd been given. Slowly, she asked, "Why couldn't she get Panacea to cure it? Doesn't she do stuff like that for free?"
The older man walking next to her shrugged. "Maybe so. But I think it is not so easy to see someone like that. Someone important. Especially when you're just a regular person. After all, Panacea must also live her life. She can't heal people all the time."
It was wisely said, but it didn't help the feelings of guilt and regret that filled Taylor. She'd healed her father, and used her ability upon herself on more than one occasion. But she'd never even considered healing other people. Of helping people who maybe weren't able to gain the attention of someone like Panacea, who, in the end, was only one person.
She came back to reality at the touch of hand upon her shoulder. "It's okay, Taylor. Mrs Fillipy was a nice lady who lived a full life, even if not so long a one as she and her children would have liked. She wouldn't want you to feel bad."
Remembering the cheerful smile, Taylor reflected that she probably wouldn't. On the other hand, she likely would still feel guilty for quite a while. Resolving to do something about it, she said her goodbyes, then headed home.
~~~~ATotD~~~~
William Fillipy opened the door at the knock. He was tired and truthfully would be very happy when everyone left. The memorial service had been nice, the priest who'd led it the same one who'd baptized him so many years ago. Father Donovan had known his mother for many years, and had been able to provide several anecdotes and insights from her life and character.
He stared at the tall, slim teenage girl who stood before him. Quiet brown eyes set wide apart in a thin face stated back into his. "Yes?"
"My name is Taylor Hebert. I live around the corner. I didn't know about what happened with Mrs Fillipy until today when I ran into Mr Khaled. I just stopped by to drop off some food and to say I'm sorry about what happened."
William finally registered the large flat pan the girl was holding in her slim arms. He belatedly asked, "Why don't you come in? You can put that in the kitchen. I'm William Fillipy, her son."
The girl, Taylor, nodded her head jerkily. She followed him as he headed towards the kitchen, carefully threading his way through the other guests. Once they were there, he vaguely waved towards the counter, which was covered with now mostly empty containers of food that other people had brought.
The girl looked dismayed at the mess as she tried to set the container on the counter top, finally having to stack a couple of empty bowls that he thought had once held something like potato and macaroni salad respectively. Once it was down, she turned back towards Bill and asked, "Is it okay if I try and clean up a little in here? I didn't know your mother that well, but she came by when my mom died a couple of years ago and it... helped."
"I... sure, I guess. Just don't do too much. I'll finish cleaning up after everyone leaves."
"I won't. Why don't you go back into the other room and talk to your guests?"
With that, William found himself ushered out of the room.
The next few hours passed in a blur, and he barely even knew who talked to him. Instead, he remembered his mother, everything from how she'd yell at his dad when she lost her temper to how sweet she was when she was trying to help out others. Vaguely, he registered a slim figure moving in and out of the living room, occasionally talking to guests, while at the same time, picking up the myriad of dirty dishes that had been slowly accumulating as everyone ate and drank.
William came back to himself as he sat on the covered commode in the downstairs half bath. He'd been hiding in here for over half an hour, he realized. He needed to get back to his guests.
Getting to his feet with a heaviness that was more spirit than body, he washed his hands, then opened the door. Aware of a silence that seemed strange after the last few hours, William walked into the living room to find it deserted, except for Father Donovan.
"Will, son, are you feeling all right?"
He nodded mechanically. "Yes, Father, I'm fine. Just tired, I think. It's been a long couple of days. And the people..." He made a helpless gesture.
"Well, I'm the last of them. You and the young lady will be alone once I've left."
Stupidly, William repeated, "Young lady?"
"Yes. Taylor, I think her name was. She's definitely a go getter. Is she family?"
At the man's words, William managed to close his gaping mouth. Why would that girl still be here? Realizing that Father Donovan was still waiting for an answer, he murmured, "Not exactly. Friend of the family. Is she in the kitchen?"
Father Donovan smiled sadly and nodded. "Probably. Doing the last of the clean up, I think. Take care of yourself, son. Don't hesitate to come by the Parrish if you can. God always has time."
He forced a smile as he said, "I will, Father. Thank you. For everything."
Once the man left, William walked through the empty house, surprised to find everything as neat and clean as it had ever been. Maybe even a bit cleaner than usual, he decided. His mother had always been a bit of an indifferent housekeeper, but she made up for it with her cooking.
Walking into the kitchen, he found the girl, Taylor, finishing up the last of the dishes. Stunned, he realized that the counter was now completely clear, all of the food put away. At least, what was left of it.
In its place, there were a few stacks of neatly cleaned dishes belonging to various neighbors sitting on well scrubbed counters, while the nearby drain rack was full of clean plates, bowls, and utensils. As William watched, the girl pulled the drain on the kitchen sink, taking a dishrag and running it one final time around the edge, before rinsing it off, wringing it out, and hanging it on the edge of the sink.
She turned towards him with a solemn look on her face as she took off the apron she'd donned and neatly hung in on the hook next to the refrigerator. "Mr Fillipy, how are you doing?"
"I can't believe you did all this. You didn't have to."
Taylor shrugged. "It's the least I could do. I put the lasagna in the fridge, and it's ready to heat back up whenever you want. Just twenty minutes at three hundred and fifty degrees, okay?"
"I..."
Taylor stepped up and gave William a hug, something which he'd been able to avoid most of the day. Only a few of the older female friends of his mother had made it past his defenses. And one teenage girl.
Feeling the strength in her slender form, William hugged her back. He blinked back tears as grief rose within him. At the same time, human contact succored him. Finally, he let her go, aware he'd been holding on a little too long. "Thank you for everything, Taylor."
"If you need anything else, my dad and I live in the grey house with the teal trim four houses north. Take care of yourself, Mr Fillipy. I'll try to stop back in a few days to pick up the pan if that's okay?"
He nodded dumbly. Then Taylor walked back out of the kitchen and out the front door.
~~~~ATotD~~~~
"What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Hess?" Emily asked, her tone severe as she stared at the young woman with her dark, defiant eyes.
There was momentary silence and Emily continued her hard stare. A few seconds later, the girl exploded. "How the hell was I to know you were spying on me? Fuck! This is such bullshit! We should be out there busting heads, not trying to pin the blame on me for that little dust up last night!"
Emily's eyes narrowed. Little dust up indeed, she thought. "That little 'dust up,' as you describe it, cost the business owner more than thirty thousand dollars because of damage to the building and lost merchandise. Apparently, when you get blood all over something, you can't sell it."
Sophia muttered, "That's Aegis' fault, not mine."
From next to Emily, Armsmaster rumbled, "It was an unnecessary fight. If you had bothered to stop and question the girl, you would have discovered that she'd left money to pay for the things she took. While both we and the store involved prefer that people do their shopping in the daytime, it was relatively innocuous compared to the damaged involved in having three capes duke it out."
Sophia Hess didn't answer. Nor did Emily really expect her to. It was just the latest in a series of incidents that the girl had been involved in. She was just glad they'd gone ahead and set her mask's cameras to auto-record everything as a safety measure. It made her decision all that much easier.
Sophia stood up, throwing up her hands in anger. "Look, if you're sending me back to juvie, just say so. I don't give two shits one way or another!"
"Sit down, Miss Hess. Sit down and shut up." Emily waited until her icy words forced the teen into sullen obedience before continuing, "Neither Armsmaster, nor myself, have any intention of sending you to juvenile detention."
The girl's eyes widened in disbelief. "You don't?"
"No."
Emily waited as the girl's expression slowly settled into one of smug satisfaction. Then with icy precision, she stated, "However, we find ourselves in a difficult situation. With the property damage sustained, and yet another incident attributed to one of our members, the same member in fact, there has to be a sacrifice."
The girl, who had been practically gloating, started to look alarmed at Emily's words. Nodding, she continued, "Yes, a sacrifice. As it turns out, we've found the perfect position for a cape that seems unable to follow the simplest directions. Who wants to behave in a violent fashion. As it turns out, the very qualities that make you a liability here, make you particularly suited for duty there. So effective immediately, you, Sophia Hess, have been transferred to the containment zone around Ellisburg, West Virginia. Enjoy your new assignment."
"What the fuck! Are you insane? I'm not going there!"
Emily waited for Armsmaster to step in, which he did smoothly and with alacrity. "Actually, Shadow Stalker, you will. Because if you don't, I'm afraid we're going to have to not only reopen the investigation into that Hebert girl's bullying, but revisit the court agreement that allowed you into the Wards in the first place."
Sophia suddenly looked more nervous than angry. "What does that mean?"
This time it was Emily who spoke in a hiss, "What it means, Miss Hess, is that you no longer have a high-powered attorney in your corner that thinks you saved his daughter. We don't have the entire story, but we know that you did Alan Barnes a favor for which he repaid you by defending you in your hearing. Now, however, you would be represented by a public defender, one with minimal experience, who would be lucky to get the charges reduced to manslaughter."
Emily stood up heavily, staring down at the teen. "What you are going to do is to willingly accept the reassignment to Ellisburg. Once there, you will keep your head down. If you do that, when you turn eighteen, all of this has a chance to blow over, allowing you to join the Protectorate as an adult. If not, you could end up in Parahuman prison, which, as a former member of the Wards, would not be a good place to be. Understand me?"
The girl looked down, her expression once again sullen, any fear well hid. She muttered, "I understand."
Emily nodded sharply. "I'll have the papers delivered to you here. Sign them. You'll be on a plane by the end of the day."
"What about my family? I can't see them?"
"No, Miss Hess. Nor can you convince me that you truly want to. Once you reach Ellisburg, you'll be able to send and receive letters. After a few months, with official approval, you'll be able to speak to them over the phone."
"Fine."
Emily left the room, accompanied by Armsmaster. Once they were out of earshot, she asked, "How the hell did we end up having to do this?"
The dour Tinker, who was not exactly known as a people person, shrugged. "I suspect I should have listened to my second in command when she suggested this was a mistake. That we should have revoked her probation as soon as she initially violated its terms. She also mentioned issues with the other Wards."
Frowning, Emily thought that was exactly why Miss Militia would make a better leader for the Protectorate ENE than the man standing in front of her. Armsmaster was simply too internally focused and self-involved to be able to focus on the needs of others. Not a bad man, but one with serious weaknesses that affected certain aspects of his job performance.
Then again, it had been her idea to keep the girl within the Wards rather than send her to juvenile detention. Armsmaster had merely gone along without argument.
There were times when Emily was rather glad that her counterpart within the Protectorate was passive and self-absorbed as Armsmaster had shown himself to be. It made getting the Wards put under her authority, for all intents and purposes, much easier.
On the other hand, it also meant that she didn't really have anyone with which to share leadership duties, or the pressure that came with those same duties. While Emily used Miss Militia to take care of a surprisingly number of day to day details, only the fact that the woman didn't sleep let her not only carry out her requests, but those of her nominal boss as well. There was no one she could trust enough to really speak frankly with.
The two of them walked a bit further, then arrived at their destination. Walking through the door, Emily took in the sight of Aegis and Miss Militia standing side by side, as they had risen at their entrance. She walked over to the head of the table, gesturing for Armsmaster to sit to her right.
Suppressing a sigh of relief at the once more being seated, Emily spoke crisply, "The purpose of this brief meeting is to assign classifications and limits on the newest cape in Brockton Bay, who we have codenamed 'Dodger'. Aegis, what are your thoughts?"
The young man met her eyes with refreshing directness. He possessed all of the leadership skills and charisma that Armsmaster lacked. He did, however, use a similar style when speaking, likely modeling himself after the man. "Director, I've given it some thought since the fight last night. Thinker 2 for the ability to dodge my attacks when she could not have seen me coming. She also dodged Shadow Stalkers bolts. Brute 3 from the strength of the blows she struck me with. Striker 3 for the ability to hit both myself and Shadow Stalker with some kind of invisible weapon, even when Stalker was in her shadow state."
Emily nodded at the summary. "Well said, Aegis." Turning to Miss Militia, she asked, "Do you concur?"
Miss Militia nodded. "I would like to add a Mover 1 rating as well. Dodger made multiple stops last night in widely separated areas of the city over a surprisingly short time frame. Plus, while we have three reported stops, it would not shock me to discover that there were more stops that went unreported, the funds left simply being pocketed or deposited without comment."
Nodding, Emily said, "That's an excellent point. Anything to add, Armsmaster?"
"I'd like to make the point that the Striker effect that Aegis reported might be the result of a Tinker-made weapon, rather than some natural ability. While I think we should continue with the Striker rating, we should also keep an open mind and be observant upon our next encounter."
"Hmm..." Emily thought a moment, then said, "Anything to add, anyone?"
Aegis cleared his throat, then said, "Director, I do have a couple of observations. First, while Shadow Stalker was convinced that our opponent was a guy, I think that she's wrong. I think Dodger's a girl. Not really something I can explain, but I think I'm right. Also, this was almost certainly Dodger's first night out. The costume he or she wore was poorly made, clearly just old clothing repurposed as a costume to hide their identity. Even the mask was pretty crappy."
"That's all in the report, Aegis, except for the reference to Dodger's sex. Was there some deeper conclusion buried in all of that?"
"Yes, ma'am. What I was trying to say is that since Dodger's new, they might still be open to the Wards. If we handle any subsequent meetings in a more positive manner. Friendliness and respect might still carry the day. Plus, they likely know the dangers solo heroes and vigilantes face if they've spent any time on PHO."
While the boy drew his conclusion, Emily glanced over at the two older capes, gauging their agreement. Armsmaster seemed to agree, despite the frown he wore. On the other hand, Miss Militia was nodding slightly as Aegis spoke, in clear agreement with his conclusions.
"Thank you, Aegis. We'll be providing you and your team direction on how we'd like further contact handled before your next patrol. Obviously, there will be no patrols until more members of the Wards are fully recovered from the flu. You're dismissed. Go get some rest."
"Thank you, ma'am. Have a good day."
When the door closed behind him, Emily turned her attention back to the two Parahumans. "What are your thoughts as to how to handle any future interactions with Dodger?"
Armsmaster steepled his fingers where his hands rested on the table. "I wouldn't mind someone with those abilities in the Wards. Dodger showed some measure of restraint when faced with the two Wards. He or she didn't initiate combat, only fighting when attacked. That they also paid for the items they took is another factor in their favor."
Pulling his hands back, he continued, "However, there was another attack that evening which I've managed to link to Dodger. A convenience store was broken into over on Twenty-eighth and Barlow. The four would-be burglars were taken down fast. There was no clear cut evidence of a Parahuman ability being used, but the description of someone moving 'inhumanly' fast caused our system to flag the report. Based upon the perpetrator's description of their assailant, and the store's location near the triangle of the burglaries, it's likely there's a connection."
"So... What's your conclusion? Dodger ran into other criminals while out and about and dealt with them in vigilante fashion? What do you think, Miss Militia?"
Miss Militia had been nodding along with Armsmaster's words, her eyes above her bandanna thoughtful. "Could be. Even if Dodger is a villain, there is often a sense of territoriality associated with most villains and their gangs. If she's a vigilante, she may have just come across the crime while on her way to or from her home base and taken them down."
Armsmaster nodded. "My concern is that there was a certain amount of brutality shown toward the burglars. The one standing guard outside was simply choked unconscious. However, one of the three attacked inside was struck viciously at the base of the skull, while the evidence suggests his leg was broken after he was already down. The other two were beaten unconscious."
Emily made a decision. "Thank you for the information, Armsmaster. However, I've made my decision. For now, we will approach the vigilante designated Dodger with an approach designed to lure them into the Wards or Protectorate, depending upon their age. Miss Militia, if you'll please speak to the Wards about this approach. Armsmaster, please do the same with the remaining members of your team. Any questions?"
Both of the others shook their heads, so Emily headed back to her office. It was just what they needed, yet another Parahuman who walked a thin line between villainy and vigilantism. Hopefully, they would be able to pull the cape back firmly over onto their side of the line. Heroism sounded a lot better than either of the other two choices.
~~~~ATotD~~~~
Carlos made his way back to the Wards' quarters, glad when he was finally able to take off his costume and grab a shower. As he walked inside, though, he was confronted by a thirteen-year-old who stared up him with a mulish expression on her face.
With a sigh, he asked, "What's up, Missy?"
The girl coughed heavily, then asked, "What's going on, Carlos? I can't get a straight answer from anyone about last night."
"Maybe that's because nothing was decided before a few minutes ago."
The girl poked him in the chest, while clutching her blanket around her shoulders. "So what was finally decided?"
"Shadow Stalker's out." Carlos ignored the whooping sound from his teammate as he continued, "She's been reassigned to shit duty out of state. We won't see any time soon. Of course, that means we're shorthanded now."
Missy sat back down on the couch that looked like it had been her campsite for some time. There were food wrappers all over the place, as well as a more than a dozen empty and half empty bottles of water, along with several different over the counter flu medications.
Clucking his tongue, Carlos started to clean things up. "Missy, you should really go home. You look terrible. Plus, there's not going to be any patrols until the rest of the team is on their feet."
The girl pulled her blanket over her shoulders, shivering slightly. "Don't care. Not going home. That's final."
Carlos knew he wouldn't be getting that shower any time soon. Instead, he headed back out to pick up food from the cafeteria, which he brought back. Then he fixed a batch of Theraflu using hot tap water. Setting the glass of yellowish liquid on the table next to her, he said, "Drink that. Don't argue."
"Fine. I'm not going to eat anything, though."
Half an hour and two entrées later, the girl was asleep and Carlos was headed to the showers. As he washed the sludge of a long day and night from himself, he sighed. Secretly, he agreed with Missy about Sophia. He was glad the girl was gone. She'd been a pain in the ass since the day she'd first joined them.
Sullen and uncooperative, for some unknown reason harboring contempt for them all, Sophia Hess had been a bitch from the first day she'd walked in. She'd never had a friend on the team, and none of them were confident that she'd have their backs in the event something serious went down.
The other night was just the final straw that broke the camel's back. Carlos had known there was something wrong as he was swooping in, but had attempted to take down the other Parahuman regardless. He still felt chagrin at how easily he'd been handled, but Shadow Stalker had gone down just as easily, if not more so.
He was pretty sure that if he'd made the initial approach, things would have gone a lot differently. There might or might not have been still been a fight, but if there had been, he'd have made sure the two of them were far better positioned. He reflected that it was a lot harder to dodge two people at once than two coming in sequentially.
After he finished showering, Carlos grabbed a bite of food himself, then settled into a comfortable recliner. He was glad he didn't have school tomorrow as he planned to stay here and take care of Missy. His parents wouldn't be happy to miss the one day a week he usually spent completely at home, but they'd understand once he explained the circumstances.
He was just dozing off when a soft voice brought him back. "Carlos? I don't mind doing extra shifts if that means Sophia is gone. Promise."
"No worries, Missy. We'll work it out in the the future. Now get some sleep, okay? I'll be here tonight and tomorrow to take care of you, so you had better be on your best behavior."
There was a watery giggle, then silence. A few minutes later, the only sound in the room was the even breathing of two people.
~~~~ATotD~~~~
Danny stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to start this conversation. Unfortunately, he didn't receive any help. The other man present seemed content to let the silence continue indefinitely. Finally, he blurted, "I wanted to say I'm sorry."
There was a pregnant silence, then Michael asked, "Sorry for what?"
Damn, he thought, the man was going to make him say it. "I'm sorry for the things I said to you the last time I was here."
Michael Dumphy looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "I'm not sure I can forgive you for what you said to me."
Wearily, Danny nodded. "If it were me, I'm not sure I would be able to forgive it either. What I'm hoping is that you're a better man than I am."
There was a bark of surprised laughter, before Michael spoke, his tone grudging, "I don't know that I'm a better man that you are, Danny Hebert. You did manage to raise a great girl, after all. But you shouldn't have done what you did. Said what you said. Even thinking about it after all this time makes my blood boil and its all I can do not to come over the counter."
Gut clenching at the shameful memory, Danny said, "I understand. If you can't, I have no choice but to accept it. Regardless of whether you forgive me or not, I wanted to say that if Taylor plans to come by again, whether to shop or just hang out, it's fine. She's a better person than either one of us and the best thing that I've ever done in my entire life."
Michael looked surprised, then thoughtful. Finally, he held out a broad, calloused hand, one that seemed a bit out of place on a man who spent most of his time behind the counter. Danny shook it, even as he winced slightly at the pressure the other used. Releasing his hand, Michael said, "I'll welcome her in the store, Danny. But I won't lie to her. If she asks, I'll tell her the truth."
Danny felt the dryness in his mouth, and worked his tongue around to relieve the sensation. "Tell her if you want. I'm ashamed of what I did, but I know she'll forgive me in the end."
The other man shrugged. "Most likely. You're right that she's a better person than either of us. Maybe I won't tell her. After all, it's clear that you've been a better father to her since our talk than you were before. So maybe you don't deserve that. I make no promises, though."
"I don't ask for any. Have a good day, Michael."
"You as well, Danny."
~~~~ATotD~~~~
Once she was home again, Taylor spent three hours sewing up the pieces of cloth she'd cut out for her costume. She managed to finished everything except the handful of hemming she'd need to do by hand. Pinning everything in place for later, she set it aside and headed downstairs to start dinner.
Mrs Fillipy and her cancer was still very much on her mind. If only she'd known, Taylor thought. She would have been able to do something about it. After all, hadn't she fixed her dad's heart, making it stronger than ever?
Of course, she couldn't have healed Mrs Fillipy as Taylor Hebert. That would have put paid to all of her efforts to stay hidden. To stay anonymous.
No, if she went out and healed people, it would have to be as Avatar. Plus, she'd have to be discreet. Not look for credit, maybe even go out of her way to avoid credit. After all, if she wasn't careful, she could find herself getting outed, her dad threatened, maybe even shanghaied by one of the gangs.
But the risk was worth it to be able to help people. To fulfill the promise she'd made the night before. She wanted to help people more than anything else. If she was careful, she might even be able to do something about it tonight.
Taylor had dinner waiting for her dad when he came home, but he barely ate anything, seeming to be in a strange mood. Rather than press him, she decided to give him room, not even commenting when he went to bed early for a Saturday night.
She herself wasn't even slightly tired, so decided to to wait until her dad was asleep and head out to her hide out to run her obstacle course and perhaps work on a new rack to hold her recently acquired barbell. Tomorrow night, once she was done with her costume, she'd see about swinging by Our Lady of Mercy Hospital over on the north end of Lord Street.
It was one of the poorer hospitals in town, and Taylor didn't think that Panacea went there very often. While that might mean that the worst patients were sent to Brockton Bay General to see the Parahuman healer, it also might just mean that those who part of the city's lower class were short changed yet again. Not that there was any point in fretting over it as she'd find out soon enough. Tomorrow, in fact.
While she was waiting, Taylor read an advanced book on Differential Equations. Once done, she thought she understood most of it, but would need to do some of the problems inside to see if there was anything that was still beyond her.
She was still trying to stretch out her abilities and doing hard math was just one more way to do so. Hopefully, she'd find another way to do the same thing with another ability before the night was over.
Two hours later found her in her lair, carefully welding up the frame for her new barbell rack. The rack was very solid, something she found out while trying to bend it. She'd been able to even though it had been more than a little difficult.
Two deceptively simple A frames connected at their bottoms by four pieces of steel forming a rectangle, she'd welded thick pieces of steel every few inches down one slope of the rack's frame, angled up slightly so that she'd be able to use it hold barbells at several different heights. That would allow her to use it to perform a variety of exercises.
Carefully checking every single weld, Taylor found herself satisfied with her work. She'd even welded up an actual bench to lay upon to do presses for her chest and topped it with a five foot long wooden beam, sixteen inches wide by three inches thick. It was all sturdy and solid and should serve its intended purpose.
Bringing up the information from the book on weightlifting she'd read, Taylor ran herself through an intense workout with the heaviest weights she could lift. As it happened, she had enough weights to do so, but only just. When she finally tallied up what she was able to not just lift, but to lift over multiple sets of ten to twelve repetitions, Taylor was more than a little shocked.
She'd known she was far stronger than even a strong man, but to find out that she could bench press more than eight hundred pounds multiple times, while doing presses over her head with just a hundred pounds less. When it came to her legs, she was able to squat just over a thousand pounds and dead lift the same.
As she'd thought before, she wouldn't be challenging Glory Girl any time soon, as the cape had been photographed lifting cars, it was still more than enough for her purposes. Couple that with her agility and speed, the martial arts she was slowly mastering, and Taylor thought herself to be a very formidable hand to hand opponent.
Her lightning, limited as it was repetition-wise, gave her a ranged attack, as did the bow and arrows she'd bought. Even the throwing knives she had would increase her range. Then there was her staff, which appeared capable of hitting even Parahumans like Shadow Stalker while in her shadow state.
Taylor dismissed her train of thought, something else weighing heavily upon her mind.
Sitting there staring at the weights, Taylor was aware of a deep ache in her muscles that was already beginning to recede. From the knowledge she'd taken from the book, she knew she should be sore tomorrow, but had a feeling she wouldn't be. But even that wasn't what occupied her thoughts.
Instead, it was the idea, something that had started out as a vague suspicion, and that was rapidly deepening into something resembling actual belief, that she'd gotten stronger since that first day she'd played around with her dad's weights down in their basement.
On that day, she hadn't had enough weight to really push herself. So she'd only had a vague idea of how strong she actually was. However, while she'd certainly done some amazing things over the past couple of weeks, ranging from the runs she'd gone on to having to flee from the Undersiders and the Wards, nothing in there should have made her stronger.
So what had happened? Were her powers unlike those of other Parahumans which seemed to remain mostly static? The only cape that Taylor knew of that became stronger over time was Lung, the leader of the ABB, but even he only did so for so long as he fought, returning to normal after.
Certainly, she hadn't gotten any faster or quicker, right? Then again, Taylor hadn't really measured those qualities definitively. She still had no idea how fast she could run, other than it was fast. She had no idea how quick her reflexes were, other than far faster than a normal person's.
While she was at the sporting goods store, she should have taken a radar gun, the kind used to measure the speed of baseballs and the like. That would have at least given her a quantitative number for one ability.
Still, the fact that she hadn't then didn't mean she couldn't now. A radar gun wasn't a purchase that would make anyone suspicious. Now if she could only figure out ways to measure her other abilities that was half as simple.
Taking a moment to jot down the weights and repetitions she'd done, Taylor headed over to her obstacle course. She spent some time building a few more obstacles, most with small holes just barely big enough to crawl though. The holes were meant to be entered head or feet first with the entire weight of one's body behind the move.
If done properly, you wouldn't lose any speed as you moved through the course. If you missed, it meant a painful impact of one's feet, hands, or even the nose, ears, or chin against the hole's frame. It was likely that very thing would happen at some point, but Taylor knew she needed it to advance with the parkour technique she'd taught herself.
Deciding that now was as good a time as any to test the course's improvements, Taylor ran into it as fast as she could. Leap, drop, roll, slide, sprint, kick off the wall, drop, roll, the movements almost automatic for her, despite the constant changes she was making. Arriving at the new area, she threw herself forward, then tucked her arms to her sides, her feet pointed, and her head in a perfect line with her body.
Taylor flew through the tiny hole that was just barely bigger than her own body's silhouette, the only impact the slight scraping of the cloth on her chest against the top of the hole. Then she was landing on her feet, rolling, then leaping off the wall to increase her height, before dropping down through another hole.
Even smaller than the first, this time there was the tiniest impact as her knuckles scraped on the hole's sides. Refusing to allow it to daunt her, Taylor threw herself into a somersault, before hitting the concrete floor, redirecting much of the force by rolling forward, before launching herself headfirst through yet another hole.
A moment later, she was done, a huge smile stretching her mouth. Taylor was aware of the faint sting of a scraped knuckle, as well as another scrape upon her forehead. But she'd done it. Easily in fact.
Smile fading, Taylor realized it had been too easy. Despite her attempts to make the course harder, she'd gone through it far to fast. It hadn't really pushed her at all.
Plus, the space within the building, as big as it had seemed at first, was just a little too limited to be able to truly make an ideal course. Oh, she could increase the size of the course a bit more, as it currently only took up less than half of the building's total interior space, but it would still be a too small, too limited to push her.
Taylor's thoughts turned immediately to the Boat Graveyard that began four miles northeast of her current location and covered more than two square miles. Those old rusted hulks were a definite possibility for stretching her parkour skills. While she really didn't want to move her entire operation, it could be good to spend at least some time there.
At peace once the decision was made, Taylor decided to head home. While she only needed four hours or so of sleep these days, it wouldn't do to have her dad wake up and find her gone. With a final look around, she gathered her stuff and headed home.
~~~~ATotD~~~~
Humming a little under her breath, Taylor pulled a needle with thread through a final loop, yanked it even tighter, then bit it off. There, that should be it, she thought, shaking out the garment. Now all she had to do was try it on.
She listened a moment to make sure her dad wasn't nearby, then decided to try her entire costume on. For real this time, armor and all.
Taking a moment, she did a quick braid of her hair, then wound that braid into a tight bun that sat at the base of her skull. There, that should keep her long hair out of the way, while at the same time protecting it from damage.
She laid out her Under Armor sports bra, and leggings, then stripped down to her panties. About to slip her feet into the leggings, Taylor paused, staring at herself in the mirror. With a sigh, she rolled her eyes at the vain hope she'd changed other than to grow a little taller, and began to dress.
Once she had on the Under Armor items, Taylor knelt down under her bed and pulled out the large bag there that held one complete set of body armor that she thought went together best. Pulling out the various pieces, she began putting them all on.
First went the vest and back piece, each holding an extra steel/ceramic composite plate for added protection. Next, she put on the armor pants, with their internal plates that protected her thighs, knees, and shins. Lastly, she put on the helmet that had fitted her head best.
She jumped and down in the armor, but it felt just as it had before, the loss of flexibility seeming even a little less pronounced than before. Walking over to the rest of her costume, she first put on the simple tunic that covered her chest and hung just short of mid-thigh. Next, came her costume pants, the material of both pieces designed to hang in such a way as to disguise the body armor she wore. The wide black leather belt went next, looped through the pants and buckled in the front
Taylor attached the cape and hood to the rest of the her costume using the buckles and straps she'd sewn in, pulling up the hood so that it covered her head. She next put on her mask, making sure it covered her face, the feel of it a bit weighty because of the metal reinforcement beneath the black leather. She'd padded the inside with a bit of foam, so that it didn't hang too heavily against her skin.
Slipping on socks and the steel-toed, black leather boots, as well as the thick black leather gloves, Taylor took a moment to just breath. Then she turned to face the mirror on the wall of her room. And stared.
Who the hell was standing there in her room and what had they done with Taylor?
Taylor stared at the image reflected in the mirror, a fierce smile on her face. She looked good. Really good. Maybe not Protectorate good, but close enough.
Her costume was a mainly series of gradients of gray, ranging from a very dark gray for her cloak and hood, to a medium gray for her pants and tunic. Her mask, gloves, and boots were all made of black leather, and looked bad ass together. As did the rune she'd put on her tunic in the same color.
The black thread was easily visible even on her gray tunic. Taylor had used the sewing machine to embroider the rune that she'd come to associate with herself in black thread. It had been almost how easily she had run the material through the sewing machine in one long run, fingers seeming to instinctively know the motions needed to create it. Once done, it looked amazing, both simple and complex at the same time.
Taylor frowned slightly as she stared at herself. There was something wrong. A long moment's inspection gave her the answer of what she needed to do to fix the problem.
Grabbing her needle and more of the black thread, Taylor made several extra stitches to the rune on the tunic of her costume, thickening a line here, adding more definition to a curve there. Each change made it feel more real. Finally, she nodded. It was finally perfect.
Staring at it intently, the rune seemed to shimmer in her sight, something that had Taylor blinking her eyes rapidly. What had she just seen?
But no matter how intently she stared at the rune afterward, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Dismissing whatever had happened from her thoughts, she went back to examining the rest of her costume. Finally, she nodded in satisfaction.
She decided that, all in all, what she had on was a great starter costume, with the added bonus of it actually providing some protection against bullets and the like. Equally important, Taylor needed it immediately, because she was going out tonight.
Thinking about poor Mrs Fillipy, she couldn't help but feel that she should have done something, anything. She hadn't used her ability to heal for any real purpose beyond helping her dad. Otherwise, all she'd done was waste it, the ability's capacity to reset each day serving little or no purpose as it hadn't been much needed. By her, at least.
But there were hundreds of people out there that she could help. Not officially, though. Taylor had no desire to receive praise and affirmation for helping others. How much of that was to avoid the pressure of others' expectations and how much of it was out of a sense of fear or modesty, she didn't know. But she did know that she'd do her damnedest to avoid letting anyone know she could heal people.
After all, how hard could it be to sneak into a hospital and heal someone?
~~~~ATotD~~~~
The entity turned his head sharply north. He'd sensed it again.
Some strange force that tugged at his attention, that ghosted across his golden flesh, almost as if he itched.
The entity had first sensed it multiple rotations of the world ago, as its inhabitants reckoned time. It had touched him, irritated him, and he had vainly sought its source for a time. Then it had receded, disappearing for a time.
Only to return six rotations later, stronger than ever.
The entity had used perception and foresight, coupled with other powerful shards, to see into the space around himself in a different manner which he had ever attempted before. Experimentation had led him to the strong possibility that this combination might reveal the source of his distress. That he'd done something so different from the norm had revealed the sheer magnitude of that unfamiliar emotion.
In doing so, it had revealed the other.
Ancient and fell, it had hovered near to him, and he had nearly recoiled at its presence. He'd attempted understanding only to find he could not encompass its form or meaning. Reaching out, he'd managed to hold it in place, multiple shards working seamlessly together, though its being was more insubstantial than anything he'd yet encountered in his long travels.
Knowing this strange being was a threat, no matter that he did not understand why, the entity had struck out, intending to destroy it. He'd reached out to still, his intent clear, only for the being to spurn his power, its riposte damaging not just his form here, but somehow reaching through the tiny tendril he maintained to the greater mass hidden in the distant reality upon a barren world. Not Sting, still it had affected the entity more than seemed possible.
Even now, something festered within him; something that he could not detect and counter, that pulled at his consciousness. Despite his pursuit of the other and their subsequent battle, the entity was still not sure he had actually destroyed it. Rather it had faded, the entity's continuing frustration and distress the only evidence of its existence.
The entity had returned his physical form nominally to perfection, but the area where he'd been struck still 'felt' damaged, as if it could not be repaired. It had only been that first blow, struck by something he could not perceive with foresight or any other shard he'd retained, that had so damaged him. Subsequent blows had merely destroyed pieces of his physical being, easily replaced.
The entity had eventually stilled the other. The effort needed had been far higher than expected. Never had his species encountered such a being. Even now, he did not know if the other was native to this world, or a traveler like himself from another world or reality.
In some ways, the entity regretted the other's passing. Could it have already found the solution his species sought? Even more, the entity regretted his counterpart's loss. Perhaps she could have encompassed the other's existence, as her role had ever been one more capable of understanding than his own.
For now, the entity would maintain vigilance against the return of the other or its agents. Reaching out to search once more, he burned off one tenth of a revolution's energies. Then another, with equal lack of results. No matter that it shortened his existence. The cycle was broken.
Still, the entity would not yield this world or its species. He had his role for now, one he would continue to play. Sensing a great fire far to the south, the entity known to the world as Scion headed in that direction to save what lives he could.
~~~~ATotD~~~~
