AN: So I saw a lot of these crossover fics where Taylor (Worm) gets kinda super powerful and the result is a hilarious curbstomp, and I thought I might try my hand at one. Also what you can see and recognize here, probably ain't mine.
The chill of the night's air seeped easily into the darkened warehouse, but such a thing was common in the Dock's District of Brockton Bay. Where there was housing, even abandoned and in Merchants' territory, rats and other pests would try to burrow their way through, leaving openings plentiful and drafty.
And though this night was particularly cold, the chill was one of the first things that Taylor Hebert had gotten used to, right after the isolation from her fellow man.
Bent over a workbench, illuminated by the harsh glow of industrial grade lighting, a slim teenaged form slaved over a hunk of metal with a miniscule engraving device, drawing in intricate designs akin to high browed mathematical formulae, or the back pages in an unused manual for the eclectic Wiccan.
To her form clung a long green robe, a token from her mother's, Annete's, wild youth and distant past. A truth she had revealed to the teen over a dozen years ago now, when her daughter had seen pictures of her in her 'costume', alongside another cape, both holding signs advocating women's equality. She had told her daughter the whole sordid tale, starting with her desires to change the world, the trigger event that had led her to find her 'magic', the fight with similarly aligned fellows, the eventual falling apart of the gang due to ideological differences, and the fight that left her friend in jail, and her desperately wounded, being treated by the emergency responder who would later become her husband.
It was one of the things that the teen had loved her for. The unshakable confidence that she had always seemed to possess, and the will to change what she saw as wrong in the world. Along with how her mother always seem to find the time for her, no matter how busy she was, and entertain the young Taylor with flawless tricks of the physically impossible.
And it was that great love that gave to even greater despair when her mother passed away, almost a decade ago now, killed by another member of the gang her mother had been in. Killed on her way home from the university, where she used to attend classes, and where she then worked as a professor of English Literature.
When her beloved father, Danny, had told her of her mother's demise, she could not believe it was happening. She told herself over and over again that there was no way that it could be real. No way that the world would take from her, her role model, her most precious person. But when the funeral came, and closed casket was lowered in to the soaked and unforgiving earth, she could feel something within her break. And then something with her broke lose.
Running away from the grave site, she made it over a hill and behind two tombs and a tree before viridescent light spilled forth from every pore of her being, scorching the grass and lighting the dark and dreary heavens, even if for only a moment.
Her father found her a moment later, and threw the cloak she now wore over her shoulders, smothering the last vestiges of her own illumination before the other funeral goers would see.
Through later experimentation, Taylor discovered massive similarities between her present power set, and her mothers old one, with many afternoons of sitting on her mothers lap, listening to how she described the usage of her powers being now put to efficient, practical usage.
Very quickly after her mother's death, and while it was still grievously paining him to the point of obviousness, her father stepped up his game. He brought her to what her referred to as his 'Playground', An abandoned warehouse in the Dock's district. Long before the Merchants had gotten as big as they are now, and only a fraction as shabby because of it, the warehouse served as a place where he would put his Doctorate to work.
While Annette Hebert had spent her time at the college working on her degree in English Lit, Danny was working on his own degree of Advanced Robotics. This was also while he took additional classes in Engineering, Advanced Physics, and Human Biology.
Danny's fierce love of learning, and later teaching allowed him to also hold a position as a professor of Robotics at Brockton Bay University…until they eventually canned the entire robotics department, the massive influx of TinkerTech to the world, leaving ordinary man made devices far behind. A concept that never sat well with him, especially as he desperately searched for another job, eventually finding one in the Dock Worker's Labor Union.
Even so, he still kept a hold on his 'playground' hoping that one of his ideas might eventually show the world that human genius was not a super power to be granted, but a feat to be earned. A concept that Taylor herself readily agreed with, and admired her father for.
The Playground now, however, was a testing place for Taylor's new abilities, and a place where she could learn to control them.
Showing a level of intellect far above the norm for her age, she had quickly set about mastering her new powers, and rerunning experiments she had remembered her mother telling her about when she inquired curiously as a younger child.
Shortly, however, Taylor found that even with the space afforded to her by her father's warehouse, she did not have enough room to properly test the full power of her arsenal. And so, she set about learning other ways to improve herself.
Sitting with her father every waking moment when neither of them were working, she drank in all the knowledge he had about every subject that he considered himself knowledgeable in. He taught her everything that he thought was appropriate for a nearly seven year old, and then found himself running out of material to teach faster than his prodigious daughter found herself running out of curiosity. So he had moved on to more and more advanced subject, as Taylor proved herself again and again in the ability to both retain and extrapolate information and new knowledge, more than inheriting his gift in the department of intellect. Such an onslaught of learning, however distracting it was of the one person who was no longer there to discuss things with them, had strong consequences.
Taylor drifted apart from everyone in her life, excluding her father. While her best friend, Emily Barnes, was able to find a new friend, she would never forget the girl who she used to share everything with, until she just stopped being there almost all of a sudden.
Other consequences were more beneficial in nature, however, as Taylor no longer felt challenged by her school, but rather inhibited by it. Quickly testing out of grade after grade, Taylor earned a GED in record time, the news even more worth celebrating when the scholarships came flying in.
Over five years ago now, she attended the same institution as her parents, Brockton Bay University, where she managed to take nine classes a semester, much to the consternation of her guidance counselor.
She was once again in her element, absorbing knowledge like a sponge. Math and the sciences, languages and arts, all came as naturally to her as breathing. In philosophy however, she butted heads constantly with the professor, over what was morally acceptable on a variety of subjects. The only reason she tolerated that class to closure, despite her declarations of the professor's idiocy to all around, was that, to her, withdrawing from that class was tantamount to admitting defeat. And a person such as she was not about to be beaten by some low class wretch like him.
She was in her early junior year, with enough credits earned to graduate twice over and still sit comfortably at the head of her class, when disaster struck her world yet again.
Her father, and her one sole remaining tie to the earth, was killed in a clash between the Empire 88 and the Merchants. When she went to identify the body, however, there was supposedly not enough left of him to be able to identify, only being confirmed by the warped license plate left by the smoldering, melted remains of his car, on a street that looked akin to a warzone.
Two years ago now, she had stood at the end of another closed coffin, throwing a handful of dirt over another beloved parent. The proceedings had been dulled to a background noise by her inner turmoil, hardly paying attention when others had come by giving their condolences, declaring Danny to be 'one of the best men I ever knew', and that 'The world became a little less bright today'. In the background of her mind, she acknowledged these phrases as true, to her at least, but infinitely paltry compared to the true loss to the world. To her.
The world only had one light left to her, one basic human being that loved her unequivocally. That had put everything aside to help others. Who had desired nothing more than to take in and propagate the knowledge of the world's workings.
And the world had taken him away.
Just like it had taken away her mother.
It had occurred to her that the cold and cruel world was without fairness, or benevolence, or mercy. That it was widely without justice, or righteous leadership.
And that everyone, everywhere languished under their self-imposed free will. They chose to destroy themselves, to destroy each other, and the world languished in the mean.
Taking Brockton Bay as an example.
The most powerful groups of Super humans were a band of Nazi scum, fit only to be purged form the earth in a suitably violent manner. A gang of migrated Asians banded together by mutual fear of both the rest of the gangs in the city, and their leader who fancied himself the strongest thing this side of an Endbringer, and who had brought untold destruction upon the city already. The Protectorate, whose hands were so tied by red tape and keeping balance in this rotting hulk of a city that in their time of protecting the city she had seen both of her parents die by the hands of the parahumans that the PRT had supposedly set themselves to fighting in the first place. And truly in last place, came the Merchants, lower than scum of the earth, criminals who set themselves up as the drug and flesh peddlers of the city.
What made it all quite so bad, on top of the ineffective policing of the Heroes, was the fact that everyone saw how ineffective they were, leading almost all of the talented or super-powered to take refuge with the gangs, which in turn only made the PRT even less likely to act, even with the city circling the drain.
There was nothing in sight making the situation any better, and more than a few ways that the entire situation could devolve into worse scenarios, with the only things that had been done had ever been preventative measures, stalling motions, keeping the world afloat, straying away from collapsing in on itself as all such rotten structures are wont to do.
And the only thing she could see that would snap the world right again, would be for some outside party to take over, and drive out all of the morally decrepit 'villains' and ineffectual 'heroes', the racism, the drugs, and the fear of any besides her. To impose an iron will onto the people of this city, and bring in a new age of order, and reason.
An age where one would not have to be afraid of their neighbor, or of late nights wondering whether or not their loved ones were coming home.
The world had given her two wonderful parents, the kind that few people ever have the capacity within themselves to be, and in the next stroke of the almighty pen, they had been felled, smote back to the ash from which they arose. But not before each of them had imparted something onto her.
She had been blessed. Gifted with the power of her mother's magic, and her unconquerable will, and the intellect of her father, and his fierce desire for learning the rules of the universe.
Blessings, now seen as responsibilities. Powers granted towards finding the solution for the ailments of the world.
No one was going to help this city, this world.
There was no one that could.
No one but her.
A hand alighted on Taylor's shoulder. The pastor whispering morosely more words of unfelt support. He didn't matter.
None of them mattered anymore.
Now she had a goal.
And work to do.
One year and ten months ago, she had walked out of the federal office with a sheaf of paper declaring her an emancipated adult. Having arranged for the selling of her father's home and most of their possessions, she was well capable enough to bribe the few legal representatives required for the process to begin, illegal as it was for a 14 year old to be declared emancipated.
Sitting on a large pile of funds, a pair of degrees, and an empty warehouse begging for improvements, Taylor first set out finishing a few of her father's ideas, such as flexible carbon nanotube, and patenting them, looking for a long term source of income.
The projects, already most of the way to completion save one, took scant weeks to finish, freeing her up to spend more time on the second stage of her preparations.
The long and arduous process of designing programs to seek out and obtain information from first person sources all across the city cost her months, but was well worth the expenditure, as live feeds from cameras stationed all across the city began tracking the movements and patterns of individual heroes and villains, as well as the larger teams they represented.
Programs also began delving into the unaffiliated heroes and villains accounts. Some, such as the contemptable Uber and Leet, were easy, and rewarding. Tracing the broadcasts uploaded by the disastrous duo for the 'hit show', led to Taylor finding both the location of their home base, and the treasure trove of the unmarred inventions of Leet, with notes and warnings written to himself of the number of times he has tried certain inventions.
Peering over the force fields, weaponry, advanced robotics, speed augmenting fields, and everything else she could see, Taylor was reminded of how she at once admired and loathed Tinkers. The devices they could make were astonishing to behold in her youth. The flying suits and armored men dazzled audiences everywhere. But the more she looked, and the more catastrophic flaws came into view, she thought of the down side of the Tinkers.
'Like children with guns.' Taylor groused. 'They have no concept of what it is they are actually using, what they are designing. No knowledge, no understanding of the power that they wield, no respect for the laws of physics which they can skirt. Like they simply receive instructions on how to put something together with the knowledge that it is supposed to do a certain task, but not how, or why.'
Her mental state was not helped by the fact that every single one of the designs were warped into the shapes of characters and creations from television and video games. Products of a misspent, misbegotten youth.
Having duplicated the specs and downloaded them to her local server, she was able to play around with the devices therein. First seeking to understand, and then to adjust applicable designs into the third stage of her preparations.
While that front was having large success, larger difficulties seemed to continue cropping up.
Even for her genius intellect, the ineffectual PRT network had stonewalled her every attempt at entry. No matter what she tried so far, no matter how many simultaneous probes she set loose, or how many viruses she unleashed upon the servers, at the maximum she had a few seconds of freedom before being shut down, and on several occasions, having the terminal she was working at overrun with the viruses she had just set loose. Maddening! And even more insulting was that the Para-Humans Online site had the same amount of success repelling her!
After two months of experimentation though, she finally found a working method. Utilizing over a hundred simultaneous viruses, the most complex she could write, all aimed at what she found to be the most defended sites, such as the identities of the to distract the defending software. Coupled with a few thousand smaller programs designed to hit the less vital systems such as the emails of average PRT employees, payroll, medical leave and the like, then link through as many public access networks as possible before downloading their contents into premade accounts in public terminals across the city.
The success totaled about seven percent of the programs she had made, but it was more than enough to reconstruct the PRT network almost in its entirety, barring, of course, the most guarded sites.
Another difficulty was the complete lack of any real information, both on the web and in any network she could find access to, on the villain known as 'Coil'. But despite these massive upsets and setbacks, barely a year ago now she found that she had sufficient intelligence of the city and its workings to begin the final step of her preparations, the construction of her armor.
It was an idea that she had since she was little, watching Hero fly on television, seeming that nothing could touch him behind shining, glorious plate.
It was a premature thought, but she was very young, but the impression remained quite strong. And a striking impression was the first thing that she would need, along with system upon system of defenses and back up plans for what she had to do. She needed to look untouchable, to be untouchable. And to that effect, she began the longest and hardest project of her young life.
Making the Perfect Armor System.
Over 17 different suits were made, tested to the limits of their capabilities and found wanting. Entire sections of ship hulls were torn from metal carcasses by Taylor's power for material use, only to later be obliterated, leaving no trace of the suit of which it was apart.
Scores of different devices were implemented in the process, from basic shield generators, to teleporting devices, to a transportable satchel full of shrunken boulders for use in a miniaturized wrist mounted rail gun/growth ray.
Finding which devices worked best together required almost full construction before running into the problems of overheating, or power shortages and failures, not to mention the problems one ran into when introducing a pure tachyon force field to a suit up held by an anti-gravity belt, and a bag of shrunken boulders. The teen was almost left without a warehouse after that mess.
But finally, a month ago, she had finished the design for a basic set of armor.
A body comprised of a hyper advanced titanium alloy stretched over an exo-skeleton, packing in as many collapsible shield augments, and independent power sources as possible, the suit stood now over six feet tall, including the platforms in the boots for the rocket boosters. It held extreme heat and cold resistance, and was lined with ballistics gels.
Combined with several rail emitters, powering her already considerable base powers to an even greater extent, she felt she was almost ready for her …introduction to the cape city of Brockton Bay.
All she had to finish was this damned glove.
Wiping cool sweat from her forehead, Taylor stood slowly, her back cracking as she did.
Looking down at her completed work, a flurry of small emotions overtook her. Melancholy as she remembered her father showing her how to use the engraving tool. Pride at her accomplishment, melancholy as she remembered. Jubilation at the power that lay before her. An eagerness to test her might. But the one that stood out above all others was her determination, like a wall of cold steel driving her inexorably forward.
Because finally. Finally she was done. Her projects had come to fruition, her defenses were ready.
Taylor slipped the gauntlet over her hand, flexing the power within her to feed into it, powering it. The gears and motors of the glove gave gentle whirrs as they came to life.
Her armor stood built, her power was honed as never before, and her vision for Brockton and the world at large was primed to be unleashed.
Placing a hunk of scrap metal in the gauntlet, she slowly clenched and unclenched her hand in the metal glove, listening to the soft whine as the pressure the hand exerted left finger holes in the weaker metal.
And those that got in her way?
The gauntlet sealed around her hand, green light sparking powerfully in the metal palm casting malicious shadows around her even as the draft increased its speed in the lofty warehouse, picking up the edges of her cloak and leaving it to flutter malevolently.
They would meet their DOOM!
AN: And there we go! A shortened version of the original chapters I have been thinking about writing for a while now. Suffice to say that I probably will not continue this, so anyone else who wants this idea, or just wants to do some one shots off of this idea, be my guest.
Also if you guys could tell me how this read? I haven't written for people in awhile, and I usually also stick to first person, so this was kind of a jump. Throw in that it was supposed to be three separate chapters here, and I am actually worried how this came out.
Let me know!