Faultline 1.9
Danny silently drove Taylor to school. Immaculata didn't have buses so it would have to become routine soon. Hopefully a less awkward routine. Danny clutched the steering wheel and kept his lips pursed. Taylor knew that going to Faultline might not have been the right thing to do, but it had been the best thing. Perhaps Danny would agree with her eventually.
"See you later, Dad." Taylor grabbed her backpack and climbed out of the car.
Danny forced a smile, "Have a good day, Taylor."
He drove away leaving Taylor outside her new school. The lawn outside was larger and better kept certainly. The students were all wearing uniforms so there weren't any gang colors. The windows were washed. It might not be so bad. Taylor shouldered her backpack and followed the tide of people inside.
The front office handed her a new schedule that was almost identical to her old one and a map. The quest to find her home room left her walking behind two middle school girls. One was talking about dirt bikes, making large expressive gestures. The one with a spirit was nodding passively, as they continued down the corridor she frowned and started rubbing her temples.
Taylor was more interested in the spirit. Heh. Nerd. Wonder what you can do? The spirit had pants pulled up halfway over its stomach, large coke-bottle glasses, bow tie, and an obvious pocket protector in a white button up shirt. He was the nerd the Anime-Cosplaying-Larping-Chess Club laughed at. Watching. Counting. There's probably more than that.
Taylor turned at the next corridor and hurried away. There was a buzz surrounding the girl that gave her a headache.
The teachers had all assembled a collection of homework for her to do to catch up to the class. While large it also wasn't the full month and a half that she had missed. For the most part she was left alone which was nice. Certainly new. Everyone else had already fallen into cliques. Taylor decided that she could try to introduce herself to one later. When she had adjusted. Though perhaps it might be easier at the start of the next semester?
Lunch was nice and came with a sideshow. One of the Freshmen's spirit was a statuesque man who seemed to be unable to move without pausing to pose in his little speedo. An Adonis. The pec bones are connected to the ab bones... The spirit scratched his banana hammock and yawned. Taylor's face flushed. Lift. Move. A Mover? It would be so awesome to have a flight power.
Danny picked her up after school. He waited until they pulled away before he started speaking. "Taylor, I talked to Faultline and the PRT. No," he cut her off, "I didn't call them. They came by the house and apologized for the actions of their Ward. They also strongly hinted that you might be with some unsavory characters."
"It wasn't her fault."
"I'd have to disagree. Faultline made some-"
"It wasn't Shadow Stalker's fault," Taylor corrected. "She shouldn't be punished."
"Unless you're willing to go explain that to the PRT there's not much you can do, kiddo. As for Faultline, I don't like her, and I don't like that she lied to me, but I did some research to double check what Faultline was saying and," he sighed, "I think she might be right. Now I'm not happy with what you've done, but I can understand it. Your abilities are dangerous, Taylor. More to you than anyone else."
"I know."
"I'm not sure that you do. You cannot do anything illegal, Taylor. Nothing. Ever."
"I talked about it with Daria already, Dad."
"I'm not sure that a villain has the best concept of what is and is not acceptable."
"I think she knows what she's doing. She had the Johnsons explain a lot to me and then gave me a bunch of stuff to read. It's still in my room if you want to go over it."
Danny nodded. "I will. She's still a criminal. Just by associating her might be enough for a conspiracy charge."
"That would only occur if they proved that I agreed to perform an illegal act with her. And that's not going to happen. Dad, I know it's not safe, but it is the safest option I had."
"Just be careful, Taylor. I can't protect you here."
Taylor bit her tongue. You haven't protected me for years. "I know, Dad. I will be."
He dropped her off a lock away from the Palanquin at her insistence, "Taylor," he called after her, "this doesn't change anything. I still expect your grades to go up."
"They will," laughed Taylor, walking away.
Daria was waiting for her in the Palanquin's kitchen. Much better stocked than the living area's kitchen Daria had a habit of appropriating ingredients for her meals and insisted that the club's ovens maintained a more accurate and stable temperature. Today it looked like some sort of souffle had just finished baking.
"So how was Immaculata?" said Daria.
"Good." Taylor paused, "At least two of the students are parahuman."
Daria blinked, "I should have expected that. Tell me."
"Two girls. One in the Junior High and one a Freshman."
Daria hummed thoughtfully, mentally going over the known capes. "The Junior High girl might be Vista. High School might be Tattletale, but I think she's older than that, probably Rune from the E88."
"Vista's powers have something to do with space manipulation, right? The Junior High girl isn't Vista, she's some sort of thinker. Something to do with counting. I don't know who Tattletale is, but the High School girl's power has something to do with lift or movement."
"So one unknown and Rune. Get their names but don't do anything. Don't approach them but also don't be anything less than polite."
"Doesn't that break the unwritten rules?"
Daria waved away her objection with a simple, "They're unwritten." She grabbed the souffle and started walking back to the living area, forcing Taylor to follow "Don't worry, we'll probably never use it, but it's better to have and not need, than need and not have."
Daria stopped outside of a door and knocked, "Emily! Taylor is here." The door opened and Daria pointed her spoon at the short blonde, "Taylor, this is Emily. I'll leave you to get acquainted."
Taylor waved. "Glad to finally meet you."
"You too." They stood awkwardly for a few moments. "They said you could give me a little tune up?"
"Yeah. There are limits, but you can probably do something really awesome with a few adjustments. Not that breathing fire isn't awesome, because it totally is. I just meant more awesome."
"That would be great. I-"
Elle's head poked out from her room. "Taylor! And you've met Emily now. That's great. I'm feeling kind of peckish, who wants to get something to eat?" Entwining her arms with Emily and Taylor she pulled them outside. "I already got Newter and Gregor's orders and Daria just said something about heart attacks and zits but that's okay."
"Elle, where are we going?"
"Fugly Bob's of course."
"Right. And what's wrong with Taylor?" Taylor was being dragged behind Elle with a soporific grin on her face.
"Don't know. She gets like that sometimes."
Fugly Bob's was widely acclaimed Brockton Bay's finest tradition. It said a lot about the city that one of its most notable landmark was a greasy spoon, but no one complained after eating there. Partly due to the quality of the food, but mainly because the massive sugar and fat intake left them in an insensate coma.
Emily, Elle, and Taylor had picked up their meals—double double bacon cheeseburgers with Parmesan fries and strawberry milkshakes—and were busy clogging their arteries. Emily would pick up Newter and Gregor to go bags before leaving. It was nice. Relaxing.
"...no, seriously 1.9 seconds with a top speed of 348 mph."
Emily whistled appreciatively. "And he just told you all of that."
"Yeah," Taylor finished off the last of her fries, "He's pretty cool. Something of a jerk, but pretty cool."
"And you haven't met any others?"
"Well, I've been to a couple of Parian's performances. Hers is flighty, but very nice. Other than that I've seen a few in passing, but that's different."
"How so?" asked Elle.
"I can get a quick feel of what you can do from a glance, and if I know what you can do I can kind of play Marco Polo to find you, but to actually learn or talk about anything I need to sit down and zone out."
Emily absently tapped out a rhythm on the table. "Should probably say 'trance' instead of 'zone out'. Play up the mystical vibe more."
"I'm not too sure on that," Taylor said around a mouthful of burger, "I mean, seeing spirits and all, doesn't it sound too much like the Faerie Queen?"
"There's other magic type capes. Like Myrrdin or the Adepts. You could try and model yourself after them."
Taylor opened her mouth to answer but shut it when a Hispanic hunk and a white jock walked in. The hunk looked around the restaurant and froze when he reached their table before continuing his scan with an air of forced nonchalance. He punched the white guy on the arm and jerked his head towards their table. Quickly spinning on their heels they walked out.
"That was weird," said Elle.
Emily tensed, swallowing her bite and asked, "What?"
Elle pointed a french fry at the door. "Two guys came in, saw us, and then walked out."
Taylor took a slurp from her milkshake. "Two parahumans. Case 53s."
Elle looked at her strangely, "They both looked normal."
"Their spirits were like Gregor and Newter's. In better condition but still," Taylor gave a small shudder, "ick."
Emily set down her burger with a long suffering sigh. "Stay tight. I'm going to call Daria. What were their ages?"
"Teenagers." Taylor shifted closer to Elle. "Couple years older than me."
"Height, ethnicity, and proportions."
"White, athletic, maybe a runner, a little taller than me." Taylor waved a hand an inch above her head as an estimate, "The other was Hispanic, slightly shorter maybe, really broad shoulders." Emily scooted out of the booth. "Where are you going?"
"Payphone. Random payphone is usually more secure than cellphone."
She walked towards the payphone by the restroom, Elle and Taylor taking the opportunity to help themselves to some of her fries.
"... right." Emily sat back down and slapped their hands away from the remnants of her fries. "It's not the Undersiders. Probably the Wards or Protectorate."
"Who are the Undersiders and why would it be the them at all?"
Emily snorted in disgust, "Minor teenage gang. Almost recruited me, but one of their member strenuously objected. I still have the fucking scars. Led by a Thinker of some sort, Tattletale. Daria thinks she has an informant in the PRT."
"And I wasn't told about them because..."
"Don't know. Take it up with Daria."
"Right. What do we do?" asked Taylor.
"We aren't in any danger but you can't be seen with us. I value my anonymity and Elle is both publicly known and connected to Faultline. We'll all leave separately. Taylor, you'll have to take the bus back, sorry. Nothing to really worry about, well, except that all of the local Wards and Protectorate probably know who you are. You might want to worry about that."
Taylor glared at her. "You're a real Pollyanna, you know that Emily?"
"I do try."
The bus ride back to the Palanquin gave Taylor time to catch up on the required reading at least. Annette had gone over Hamlet with her when she was younger. Even, much to Danny's chagrin, pointing out the cruder phrases and innuendos for her.
It took her an hour to get back to the Palanquin by bus so of course Elle and Emily had already returned and there were no french fries left to steal from Newter and Gregor (well, Gregor, she wasn't going to try and steal food from Newter).
Gregor had vanished to take care of his food coma leaving the rest watching a TV show imported from Aleph. Something with a guy in a dirty undershirt shooting terrorists in a skyscraper. Taylor turned it off.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me that the Undersiders might know who I am?" she questioned Daria.
"Honestly? It slipped my mind. I found out the day after Danny got out of the hospital, and it wasn't important enough to bother you with immediately. And then the PRT situation came up. The Undersiders are more of a minor annoyance than an actual threat."
"So I don't have to worry about them?"
"I wouldn't go that far," cautioned Daria. "Be careful of Tattletale. She's the blonde, wears a purple jester outfit, some kind of Thinker. Well known for having secrets she shouldn't have. Specializes in psychological warfare. Nasty piece of work. What's this about the Case 53s at Fugly Bob's?"
"Two normal, kinda handsome guys came in. Saw me and walked out. They were Case 53s. I don't have anything else."
Daria handed her a laptop around, pictures of the current Wards and Protectorate were already displayed. "Do you think you could say which ones you saw?"
"The white one might have been Gallant or maybe Triumph. The Hispanic one might be Aegis. Are you just going to collect every cape's ID?"
"If it falls into my lap I'd be a fool not to take it. But more importantly, how did the PRT find two perfectly normal appearing Case 53s? They tend to be very rare. Or possibly they're just better at hiding without the usual disfigurements," Daria mused.
"Boring," Emily drawled. "My turn. Pimp my powers, Taylor."
At Taylor's questioning glance Daria nodded, "If you would."
Taking a seat Taylor tuned out the room and focused on Emily's spirit. A baby sat on Emily's shoulder playing with her hair. Grabbing a handful and twisting it around before sticking it in its mouth. It looked over at her and burped, a little flame shot out. It would have been a cute baby except for the eyes. There was no sclera, the entire eye was filled with blue except for the pinprick pupils.
Taylor had to restrain herself from baby talk. Going 'who's a good baby, who's a good baby, you are, yes you are' would have been less than productive. After a few minutes conversation she regretted that. It would have been cathartic to insult the little, pretentious dick.
"Because I fucking say so. That's why you harlot!" the infant bawled.
"I can rip out your tongue," snarled Taylor. "I've done it before."
"Empty threats from an empty skull. Imbeciles like you should know their place."
"I-" The baby started wailing drowning Taylor out. "Ugh. Tylenol, aspirin, something for this massive headache please."
Elle fetched her a Tylenol and a glass of water. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," she winced, "fine, just had that a baby crying in my ear for the last- how long has it been?"
"Ten minutes," Daria said.
"Right. Ten minutes. I just have to know, is the theme intentional or accidental?" At their confused looks Taylor clarified, "Newter makes drugs, Gregor synthesizes chemicals—still not sure how either of them do that—and Spitfire mass produces simple chemicals. I can't think of anyone else with similar powers in Brockton and you have three of them."
Daria raised an eyebrow in bemusement. "Accidental. So her power isn't to, well, spit fire?"
Taylor shook her head. "No. She's just stuck on one chemical right now. If you give me a sample of something then she could switch to that."
"Could I switch between chemicals without you?" asked Emily.
"No reason for you not to."
Emily contemplated for a moment, "So I could create high quality booze?"
"Maybe," Taylor shrugged. "I don't know what's in good quality alcohol."
"Just a minute." Daria went to her room and came back cradling a blood red bottle. "Dalmore. 21 years aged."
Emily looked at the bottle. "Expensive?"
"Very." Daria very carefully opened it and poured out a small shot glass for Emily. Emily threw it back. "Philistine," she sniffed.
Emily thumped herself on the chest. "That's the good stuff, alright."
"How would you know?" Daria scowled, "You didn't even taste it."
Taylor tuned out their argument for a moment before shaking her head. "No. Too complicated."
"Damn," Daria swore. "Could have supplied the club with free liquor."
The rest of the room was incredulous. Emily said it first, "You wanted me to puke out alcohol to serve to your clientele?"
Daria gave a faux arrogant sniff, "Anything would sound bad when you phrase it like that."
"The dimensional rip doesn't have to stay in her mouth, you know," pointed out Taylor.
"Dimensional rip?" Emily clapped her hands over her mouth. "In my mouth?"
Taylor blinked in confusion, it seemed too obvious to be a big deal. "Well, yeah. You need to grab the mass from somewhere. It's not like saliva. You don't have a napalm gland. I could just move it somewhere else."
Hands still over her mouth, Emily perked up. "So I could throw fireballs."
"From one hand, yeah. It would just require some forceful negotiations," Taylor snickered eying the little brat on her shoulder.
"Still awesome."
Daria leaned back with a nasty grin, "What about containment foam?"
"I dunno," Taylor shrugged, "Do you have a sample?"
"I can get one. What about Newter's sweat?"
Newter waved an arm over his head, "Nope. Veto. Not happening. That's mine."
Taylor looked at her watch. Already after six. Damn. "I still have homework to do. Can we wrap this up?"
"Fine. Can you finish modifying me first?" asked Daria.
"Probably. Give me a moment to check." Taylor leaned back. "Good afternoon Ma'am, how are you doing?"
Daria's British governess smiled at her and discreetly cleaned her knife on a handkerchief. "Quite well, dear. And how have you been?"
"Much better, thank you. Do you think that you might be ready to to change?"
She touched the tip of knife to her lip before nodding. "Yes. I think it will be most exciting."
"Thank you, we are ready now." Taylor blinked and stretched. "That should have done it." Faultline sat frozen. Taylor walked over and poked her. "Give her a few moments. She did this last time too."
Emily reached over and picked up the whiskey. "What?" She poured herself another shot. "It really is the good stuff."
"Are you sure that you want to be doing that?" asked Newter.
"What's the worst that could happen?" One of her sleeves separated fell off and drifted down her arm. "Point taken." She slid the glass in front of Daria. "Here you go Daria, drink up. Vashe zdorovye!"
"Thanks. It's a little overwhelming. Taylor, go tell Rodriguez that you need a ride home." She sat staring at the ceiling. "We really have to start working on getting you a driver's license. Elle too. See you... whenever. I'm going to have a lie down now."
