Disclaimer: Don't own Worm.
Beta: Inconspicuous L.
A/N: Some good stuff herein. I know the story is moving slowly, and that's on me for trying to do too many things at once. I let things pick up here, and I can promise more action in the very near future.
~Work
My short breaths came out heavily as I slowed down. Looking down the road, I could just make out the turn onto my street. Not too bad for my first week of jogging. Taking a moment to glance around, I relaxed when nothing interrupted the quiet atmosphere. The sky's dark hues slowly brightened as I let a handful of coins, magnetically stuck under the front of my shirt, fall into my hand. Shiny and a bit sticky with sweat, I still smiled. Alright, more progress.
My power had grown over the week as I practiced with it, and my multitasking ability had finally caught up. Coins were the hardest things to move around, but that barely mattered now. Even the prospect school later today didn't dampen my spirits.
After another look around, I walk into a nearby park while floating the coins out of my hand and putting them into a slow orbit around me. With a thought, they accelerated until metallic rings spun around me, whipping the air into a slight hum. I walked toward a shrub to a my left and the coins began obliterating it without slowing down. Broken twigs and shredded leaves fly into the air. After trimming the edges of some bushes, I slow the change to a stop, letting it cool down from any heat the friction may have caused. A faint sting on my hand reminds me of learning that lesson the hard way.
Rubbing the coins between my hands, and then on my sweats, I reached around behind me to lift my shirt with one hand. Arranging them mostly out of sight on my lower back, I let the shirt settle back onto me. I ignored the awkward feeling of metal on skin, and resumed running. My body and power on near-autopilot, I reflected on the progress I'd made. Maybe Arcadia could happen.
I finished the run back to my house, and I heard my dad getting in the shower as I entered the front door. Completely out of breath, I walked into the kitchen, and float the coins into our household change jar. Another push of my power moves the lever to open the faucet and I pour myself a glass of water.
Using powers for simple things is reassuringly awesome. Especially because of all the work it took to get this far. I thought about when my power didn't come so easily.
Before I turned out the lights Saturday night, a day after my decision to continue pushing the limits of my power, I'd just managed to levitate a quarter with only the slightest headache. Despite the replicating the success on Sunday, I'd made an unhappy discovery.
While holding up the quarter, I tried pick up another, and I lost control over both of them. The magnetic forces withdrew the moment the second one moved, letting the first quarter fall to the counter. Puzzled, I looked at it again and concentrated. After slowly raising one back into the air, I focused on it as I tried to lift another. I felt the forces wobble unstably for a moment, before it fell again. I started making a note, Can't Multitask? before I crossed it out. I'd been moving multiple vectors this whole time. It had to be something else.
I'd pushed multiple objects with single magnetic projection before, so it couldn't be a limit on the number of things I could move… Maybe it was a limit on fine control? Awareness? Looking down at the quarters, I divided my focus as much as possible, trying to feel the magnetic vectors reach out toward them. They trembled, resisting movement, before slowly rising off the table.
Then pain. A lancing chisel into my skull, split it open. I moved as if in slow motion to check the wound. My arms barely respond and by the time my hands come away clean, a growing wetness on my face drips onto them. Pain.
I stumble away from the kitchen counter, somehow keeping the increasing flow of blood on either the notebook or on me. Hands clasping my notebook and my shirt, I barely hold myself up by bumping my sides into the walls as I move toward the bathroom. The front of my yellow-orange top now showcases a bloody sunset.
All but falling in, I steady myself on the porcelain sink and smear a bloody hand on the light switches. My other hand closes the door. I fumble with the lock, spreading more dark red on the bronze-colored metal.
The pain blinds everything, and I collapse boneless against the door.
Everything about my power had to be built up. Everything.
For a while I thought I couldn't do anything with my power. I'd be a sitting duck, flinging cutlery one piece at a time with subpar speeds and distances. I demoted myself back to paper clips.
My experiments over the week divulged a growing understanding of my magnetism.
First and foremost, I had to develop it. Each and every part I wanted. More control? Move stuff in intricate patterns. More power? Move heavy stuff. I tried to stay positive, especially since there didn't appear to be an upper limit of what I could do yet, but the gritty reality of what I'd coined as 'overload' grounded me. Pain, exhaustion, and those damn nosebleeds always lurked around the corner. They waited until I found some weakness in my power, like my previous inability to split fine control, and pounced when I tried to develop it. Most of the time I didn't know I had that weakness.
Overloads appeared to come in two types: Overexerting my powers or trying something new with them. The first type seemed to work like a muscle strain; a building pressure that eventually failed, splitting into the usual symptoms. This happened when I tried expanding on elements of my power I already had, like lifting something heavier or trying something more complicated than before. The other appeared without warning: a splitting migraine and flowing nosebleed. Trying to do something new brought this version on. The second type scared me every time, made me wonder if my power put me at a table gambling with death.
The overload on Sunday cost me three hours, at least five minutes with an intermittent bloody nose. I hid in the bathroom to clean myself up. Luckily, my dad had left earlier for another meeting, and I'd managed to wake up and reach the shower upstairs as he got back. Holding a small bundle of bloody clothes, I barely responded loud enough to reassure him that everything was fine. Fear preoccupied me through that night.
The thing is… I always got better. Maybe I woke up with a headache and didn't use my powers for most of the day. Perhaps I did try, and spent a couple class periods in the nurse's office. As sick as I was last week and with the teachers paying extra attention, I had all the excuses I needed. As if exercising some unseen muscle, the more I pushed it, the more my power grew stronger and more complex.
The first day of school since I'd nearly died, and a few feet into the door stops the nearby conversations. I keep walking, catching some whispers.
"...hospitalized for… days"
"She… too embarrassed"
"...blamed Emma."
"Heard she… herself"
By the time I'd reached my new locker I knew the bullies had fed the rumor mill to full force. Everything from I'd stashed trash in my locker myself to I'd tried to kill myself after confessing to one of them. I tried not to let the words get to me, but they were getting louder. I could nearly hear full sentences now.
"...and then she slit her wrists."
"All the blood was from..."
"She couldn't handle… rejection."
Focus Taylor. But there wasn't anything to focus on. I thought I'd be ready for bullying, but the words kept getting louder and louder. The last week alone at home with my books and my dad had lowered my guard too much. Why were they doing this?
Before things could get any worse, I'd reached the new locker assigned by the administration, and as I raised my hand to turn the lock, it started moving before I'd actually touched it. Frozen in shock, I forgot all about the rumors floating around me.
There wasn't any strain from that.
From what I'd learned so far, control over my power depended on projecting magnetic fields from my mind along with some level of attention. After I'd been off drugs, I'd noticed that using my powers at all came with a miniscule strain; the pressure of a finger lightly pushing into my brain. I'd been using the strain as both a notification and a measurement for when and how much of my power I was using. Before, I'd thought that meant I couldn't move anything without using my mind to project my power… except I'd just done it with my hand.
A smile crossed my face and I straightened myself. Reaching up my hand again, I masked using my power by pretending to touch the knob. Running through the combination, it took three tries before I opened the locker to see a scoured clean space.
I'd only walked here out of habit, no matter how clean, it wasn't tempting enough to risk any of my stuff. If the bullies could break in once, they could do it again. Reaching to close the door, I projected my power through my hand again, closing it with magnetic force rather than muscle. Being able to use the rest of my body as a medium… that was something new.
Checking my nose surreptitiously, my hand came away bloodless. No overload either… I smiled. Head up and shoulders back, I walked with the assurance of someone special. I am special.
I walked upstairs to my room with a smile, shedding my sweaty close as the door closed. Grabbing a small metal deposit box, a quick push of power opened the lock; I'd thrown the keys in a storm drain earlier in the week. I'd decorated the box, covering it with bits of cloth, colored paper, and stickers. Small details to make it look like something from childhood. Inside sat the notebook about my powers. My safety precautions wouldn't stop anyone really persistent, but they were enough for the average person to overlook.
After jotting down the amount of change and the range of orbit, I idly flipped back to Monday night's entry.
Power can be expressed through the whole body. Next, magnetic fields away from the body?
Not even a week ago, I believed I needed to see the object to move it, but then that moved onto just touching it. Of course I could move stuff by pushing and pulling blindly, but there wasn't a point of reference for any fine control. Touch let me focus just enough to create a magnetic field through a part of my body, and with that I could stick anything I could move to myself. After the first few attempts, I discovered could last much longer using other parts of my body as the magnetic medium, rather than just using my mind. The oncoming symptoms of overload still happened, they just took longer to set in. Something to think about.
Hearing the shower turn off, I put the journal away and grabbed a towel before jumping inside my bathroom. A quick flex shuts the door and turns the metal shower knobs. Stepping in and letting the lukewarm water cascade down on me, I absent-mindedly considered how I'd adapted to using my powers as they grew…
The last two days have proved that missing school for a week fertilizes grapevine like nothing else. After the initial shock of what felt like everyone talking about me, I shrugged off the attention. I held out for the inevitable confrontation, but other than the rumors seemed to be it. The bullies were lying low, a combination of final exams and Emma's probation looming over them; probably the former more than the latter.
I only had one final today, chemistry, but it was one of the classes where I'd been academically hamstrung by the bullies earlier this year.
"That looked like it hurt Taylor! And you ruined your homework too! You should be more careful!" Sophia taunted as she stood over me. The mud puddle she shoved me into drowned my binders.
"Oops! I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." Madison deliberately spilling soda over my papers during lunch.
Shaking myself out of the past before the memories got worse, I half-heartedly looked through the exam and filled in what I could. I'll make it up next semester… Looking around, I saw one of the sycophants drop her pen. I couldn't resist, and I pushed the pen a bit further as she reached for it. Once, twice, and... it's out of range. As petty as that was, it brought a smile to my face.
Stifling a giggle, I pretended to stretch, and noticed Sophia was sitting behind me, diagonally left. An extra pen sat on the corner of her desk. Still feeling a giddy rush, I turned back forward tried to pull in the pen's direction… but I only the heard the sounds of hurried writing and the ticking clock. Frowning slightly, I tried again, pulling until I felt a slight twinge. Turning my head, I saw the pen resting in the same spot. The Mr. Nakai coughed, and I quickly faced forward, cheeks flushing.
Frustration and more than a bit of embarrassment stew for a few minutes, before I decide to try a different approach. I extended what felt like a tendril of power in the general direction, trying to stay aware of it...
Mr. Nakai shook me, "Taylor! I think you need to good to the nurses office. You can finish the test later."
Brought back to present, I made to look up at him, confused, when I saw the blood on my paper. Then pain. An infinite number of needles stabbing into my brain.
"Do... someone...help you?"
I barely nodded, and felt a person on either side of me help me up. The needles began slowly injecting liquid fire, with each step toward the nurse initiating another set. By the time I reached the nurses office, I could only lie down and curl up on the bed. I couldn't understand why I was overloading. It felt like forcing myself to suddenly hear scents, taste loudness, smell color, and see pain. Blissfully, I blacked out.
I shut off the shower and simultaneously float over the coat hanger with towel I brought in. Tying the towel around myself, the door swings open for me as I walk through with a slight bounce. The small things my power could do never failed to make me happy. Picking out a warm blue jacket, a black turtle neck, and black pants, I get dressed. Keys and my new prescription glasses place themselves in my pocket and on my face respectively. Maybe I'm getting a bit lazy… but I rationalized it as exercising a different kind of muscle. Smiling and ready for the day, I glance around my room before I head downstairs.
"Morning Dad!"
He looked up from the stove, where the attempts at french toast looked slightly burnt.
"Morning sweetie, how was your run?"
"Pretty good, I got another couple block further than yesterday," I replied as I stepped next to him and held my hands out.
Dad looked down at the stove, before resignedly handing me the spatula.
"... At least I tried right? My pasta's better..."
I kiss him on the cheek before pushing him away from the stove.
"Sure dad."
With an expression of mock hurt dad slumps down at his desk and starts sorting some papers. I giggle before turning back to breakfast. He finishes reading as I put the final touches on salvaging breakfast.
"Are you sure you should be pushing yourself? You know what happened Wednesday..."
My grip tightens and I nearly drop the toast. Placing them carefully on the plates, I reply, "Dadddddd. I told you! I didn't eat lunch that day to cram for a test I wasn't ready for. One time thing!"
Dad walks back toward me and envelops me in a hug from behind. "I know that's what you said, but nosebleeds don't happen because you're exhausted. At least not to you… I raised you remember?"
I turn around and squeeze him back tighter, pressing my face into his shoulder. A muffled, "I know," escapes before I pull back.
"You don't have to worry. Everything's fine."
His face shapes into something I can't recognize before he pulls me into another tight hug. "Did you change up your route like I told you to?"
Dad pulls back as I nod my head.
"Good, well let's eat."
I like to think what happened Wednesday completed my powers. Not in terms of strength, but in versatility. I honestly couldn't think of anything else that would put me through another sudden overload…
Waking up to my dad's face, contorted in a mixture of anger and worry, I hardly had time to say I was okay before EMT's walked in with a stretcher. What a mess. Convincing everyone, which included the nurse, my dad, and the two emergency medical technicians, that 'Yes, I was fine,' and 'No, I don't need to go to the hospital' took nearly half an hour. Only passing the various emergency medical tests had calmed everyone down. Although repeating the concussion test three times seemed a bit much to me.
Was it worth the trouble?
My 'magnetic sense' was spherical; centered around my head. Although it only extended to a radius of about five feet at the moment, I could feel everything magnetic in that space. If I could move it, I owned it. It didn't matter if something was behind me, under me, or above me. The radius clearly defined the limits of my control, although I could still launch things out of it if they built enough momentum. All the problems I had before, splitting my focus and attention to control stuff I was moving, they'd all vanished. It was the final piece of the puzzle.
I'd gained a sixth sense.
The shifting movement of the bus door's metal parts alerted me as much as the creaking sound of hydraulics. Sitting at the front meant I avoided the majority of the people on the school bus, and I walked out ahead of everyone. Last day… hopefully in more ways than one.
Hurrying ahead to escape any confrontations, I ignore the whispers that still haven't stopped. Forgoing visiting my locker, I walked through the homeroom doors and sat down in my usual seat. I pulled out my thick History and Parahumans book, began cramming for Mr. Gladly's final. Even if he curried the favor of his popular students, his test counted toward my GPA. Still, his favoritism irked me, and I found myself flipping through the book to skim sections he'd set aside for next semester.
Chapter 10: Parahumans and the Sciences
Parahumans have broken most of the established theories in modern sciences…
Chapter 15: Parahuman Healthcare
With the rising number of parahumans, demand for healthcare and specialized health insurance has increased to it's highest point…
Chapter 18: Parahuman Law
Administering parahumans has mostly been covered by the PRT and the Protectorate (Chapter 10, Chapter 4), and entire subsections of law have been…
Chapter 13: Historical Responses to Parahuman Threats
Since the advent of dangerous parahumans and the disasters known as the Endbringers, governments have worked to find solutions to deal with S-Class Threats…
The last section I opened to drew my attention. In the glamour of my powers, I'd forgotten about the very real threats in the world. Reading further, I read about the firing of ballistic missiles against a particularly crazy cape who'd been blasting through a small farm towns in Kansas. The attempted nuking at one of Behemoth's early appearances. The bell rang and I headed to computer class. My head spun.
Would I ever fight one of the Endbringers?
Caught up in my thoughts, I didn't notice Sophia come up behind me and nudge me into the lockers lining the hallway.
"Watch where you're going loser!" She called over her shoulder as she walked off with a laughing group of followers.
Well, they couldn't stop forever. The people around me tried to ignore my stare as I looked around. Even though I didn't expect any different, the collective ambivalence still hurt. I made my way into computer class and pulled out my history book again. Unless that teacher scheduled a final, most classes were free periods.
Flipping back to where I left off, I continued reading.
The government turning to both capes and weapons with less collateral damage. The unwritten but universal Truce between heroes and villains against S-Class monsters. Working with tinkers to develop new and better technology. Finishing the first laser guns and railguns, and then discovering the crushing inability to mass produce it…
Railguns?
Logging onto the computer in front of me, I put in a search for railguns. Electricity, magnets, and a projectile to fire. I stared blankly at basic diagram on the screen. Opposing magnetic currents along two rails with electricity to supercharge them through the projectile. I… I could do all of that. I pulled out a sheet of paper and furiously took notes about railguns, and then later about any other way people had tried to weaponize magnets.
Sophia watched her walk out of the classroom into the hallway. Hebert. Loser. Victim. They'd left her alone after she whined about being stuck in the locker. Typical of Hebert, complaining when they couldn't retaliate; she never stood up for herself alone. Still, did the stupid bitch think they were going to leave her alone because one of them was on probation? Looking at her, walking as if she doesn't have a care in the world, made Sophia sick.
Disgust welling up inside of her, Sophia only stopped herself from striking out by remembering the plan. Indignant anger at being under scrutiny by the teachers for the week had almost boiled over. She couldn't help the small push earlier; had to remind the victim just who was around and where she belonged. The strong stand above the weak, and Taylor would have to learn to acknowledge that.
She should've known there would be consequences.
Stepping forward Sophia walked up while tamping down on her anger. She called out loud enough for everyone to turn toward her, "Hey Hebert, I think I found something of yours."
Anger cooled into satisfaction as the weakling looked shocked, then started reaching forward for the thin black box. Emma had really come through this time. "Yeah I saw this in the stuff the janitor was clearing out in the music room. It's yours right? It has your last name on it."
How delicious, the her hands are shaking! Sophia pulled back at the last moment. "Uh, uh. Where are your manners? I want you to thank me first." A smile crosses her face as she waits.
"... thank you Sophia."
"No problem!" She handed over the box and stepped back.
She's opening it so slow… and now time for the trap.
"Where is it?" How cute, her emotions are all over her face, she might actually be mad!
Still smiling, Sophia simpered, "I don't know what you're talking about. I just found that and thought it was yours." She knew this had cornered her; she couldn't run now. There was only moments before Taylor broke down.
"This isn't fucking funny. Where is it?" Pretending to fight back? Let's see how far we can take this.
"Honestly, I don't know what you mean." Just push her a bit more...
"Where is my mother's flute Sophia?" She can barely speak! Closer...
"Ohhhhh! Why didn't you say so? Still, I don't know. Maybe you should check the dumpsters behind school. That's where the rest of the stuff was going." Hebert's shoulders draw together. Are those tears in her eyes? A smile full of teeth crosses Sophia's face. It knows it's nothing again… but why leave it just at that?
Sophia leaned in closer to whisper, "If you ask me, that's where it belongs. The trash, along with the rest of your family." Taylor was shaking now, are her fists clenched? Sophia waited, a last chance for her to be proven wrong. When nothing happened she sneered. Impotent. Broken.
Turning around, there's nothing to fear from prey, Sophia walked away, replaying the scene in her mind. Such a shame Emma couldn't be here like they'd originally planned, the probation really got in the way of that. Oh well, she'd just have to give her all the details.
Taylor opened the box with trembling hands, her mother's flute that had been stolen at school last year. Emma had taken it, she was the only one who knew the significance. One of the last things she had left of her mother. Taylor had carried it to school after days the bullying had been really bad. It had gone missing when she left class to use the bathroom, and she couldn't prove anything.
And the box was empty.
Taylor froze inside.
"This isn't fucking funny. Where is it?"
Her keys began vibrating in her pocket. It would be so damn easy to tear Sophia apart. Her power's radius was big enough, she was close enough. The image of orbiting coins decimating a bush came to mind.
"Where is my mother's flute Sophia?"
She felt her power reaching out toward the metal around her. Lockers, cell phones, pens, coins… all of it weapons.
"... the dumpsters behind school… If you ask me, that's where it belongs. The trash, along with the rest of your family."
As Sophia walked away, and my body flexed so tightly I could barely move. Anger: that fucking bitch! Rationality: hurting normals was a one way trip to jail. Sadness: her mother's flute still gone. Her bullies had won again. Deflating, Taylor looked around and people were smiling, pointing and laughing. Numbness settled over her, and she grabbed her stuff and left.
Finally making it home, I dropping off my things and write my dad a note.
Dad,
Had a bad day. Not hurt, but going on a run to vent.
Love,
Taylor
Changing into running clothes, I lock the door and take off in the general direction of the Bay.
This isn't fair.
The thought plays through my head as a broken record.
I stop at the next bus stop, too exhausted to make it all the way on foot. The bus drops me off near the Market and I start aimlessly jogging again, absently waving back at people I can't focus on. I don't know how long I run before my feet take me into the Boat Graveyard. With only decrepit ships and the sounds of the ocean as company, I stop between two fractured hulls taller than my school and next to a pile of rusted parts.
"Are you fucking kidding me...?"
My fist stings as it rests against the hull.
"What the fuck!"
Magnetic forces lash out and my next punch dents the metal. All the bottled and buried rage at everything explodes outward. Hysterical screams echo in the air. I'm flinging metal parts as hard and far as I can. Kicking and punching the air, the boats, the ground. This powerlessness, this unfairness, this fucking life. The monster in my chest rampages, bending or breaking everything I can in a circle around me. I hit and scream until my voice is raw, my hands bloody, and my body bruised. It's still not enough.
I don't know how long I was lying on the ground, but I came-to there. Alone in the middle of my destruction, staring up at sunset streaked sky. Listlessness pins me to the ground. In the numb haze, my thoughts turned back toward escape. My powers, Arcadia High, the Wards. Being a hero...
Heroes saved people. They're good people, willing to put themselves out there for everyone, especially strangers. People respected heroes for keeping them safe; for using parahuman powers for good.
I couldn't say I'd be the bigger person and save Sophia from gun point. I couldn't see myself putting my life at risk for any of the people in Winslow. Heroes are paragons that do the right thing. Even when it costs them the most.
…I don't want to be a hero…
All the people who stood around and let things just happen... Perhaps if things had been different. If I didn't almost die while people stood around and laughed. If people actually seemed like they gave a damn… if that were the case then I could consider being a hero. Maybe I could be convinced that people are worth saving. But after today? After the past year?
People are selfish.
I'm selfish. If Wards weren't the only way I could get away from the bullies, get into Arcadia… I wouldn't join. I watched the sky darken, letting my mind wander a bit longer, before I had to return to reality.
I knew why I wanted to go, but what else could get me into Arcadia? As my mind prodded at the dilemma, I recalled the conversation with Principal Blackwell at the hospital...
Proof. She said I needed proof for her to do anything. Well if the school was so concerned about covering up for its image, I'd find something damning. Plan B, let's find out how valuable their reputations are. Arcadia would happen.
Slowly sitting up, I gingerly stand and walk to the water's edge to clean up. I scrub my hands, wincing at the salt water, before clearing away the blood on my face. After taking a look at my clothes, I rub some wet sand onto them; don't want to walk around looking like I'd been attacked. As I make my way out of the Boat Graveyard, I stop to glance back. The scene puts a smile of grim satisfaction on my face before I continue on my way.
Behind me, parts of two old ship hulls resembled crinkled aluminum foil, caved inward.
A/N: I'm very impressed by authors who write 10k+ words per chapter. Even more so by those that do that and write FAST. I hope everyone enjoyed this. More fun stuff to come.
~Sleep
