A/N: Review responses are in my forums as normal. I've mentioned in those responses that I over-wrote parts of the second arc of this story. For instance, the end of Chap 18 and this one were originally four chapters. This section hopefully benefitted from some judicious editing.
Chapter Twenty: Mark All Who Oppress
By the time Taylor flew under the George Washington Bridge on her way to sell a coin and hopefully get enough money to buy supplies, she felt certain that hundreds of people had seen her, but she also knew she was fast approaching her goal. She hoped to be in and out before the Protectorate even knew she was there.
The rain turned into a deluge as she flared her wings, kicked her bare feet forward, and came to a landing on a wide, beautiful sidewalk that ran along the river.
She hid her wings Between and stood there, not breathing hard because of exertion, but because of the adrenaline surging through her veins. After a moment, with water rushing down her face, she finally realized she was letting herself get soaked like an idiot. She ran down a path that cut underneath the highway toward the city itself.
People stared at her, and why not? Even with her wings hidden, the back of her hoodie had a massive hole cut into it exposing the tattoos on her back. Her bare feet slapped through the puddle of the sidewalk.
She supposed it was inevitable. The clothes hung on her, barely serving for modesty's sake under the torrential rain. Worse yet, despite the weather people were still out with their umbrellas. The city was too large to simply stop because of bad weather.
When she crossed the first broad street and realized it was the Broadway, she found herself wishing she had the time, money and freedom to travel further into Manhattan just to explore. But dressed as she was, with the weight of the PRT on her shoulders, she needed more than anything just to sell the coin and get home.
She crossed Amsterdam next and started looking for the address.
After half a block, she found it wedged between a café and a bookstore. Conscious of the eyes on her, and of her stringy, still slightly wet hair and clothes, she walked barefoot through the door and into a small, wood-panel interior. She found herself gravitating toward the walls, where hundreds of coins in little plastic boxes were displayed under low lights, serving as the detail for the walls of the otherwise little space.
"Can I help you, young lady?"
Taylor turned to see a frail-looking man with a hedge of hair along the sides of his otherwise bald head staring with a disapproving look at her. Specifically, he did not appear to appreciate her being barefoot in his store. At least she wasn't dripping any more.
"Um, yes. I…" She fished out the slightly damp receipt she'd found in her father's lock box. "Is this you?"
Frowning intently, the old man slipped on a pair of oval spectacles. As he studied the damp receipt, a younger, larger man appeared from a door that led to the box office. Like the older one, the young man's eyes scanned her entire body, resting on her bare feet.
"Dad, everything okay?"
The old man looked up. "I remember this," he said to her, as if the younger man hadn't spoken. "A florin, in mint condition. Where did you get it?"
"From my father's coin chest," Taylor said. "You might remember him. Large man. Strong. Didn't talk much. Daniel Hebert."
The old man nodded. "Yes. He said he was wanting money to purchase a home for his wife and daughter. You, I presume?"
Taylor nodded. "Dad and I got separated. I need some money to keep the lights on until he gets home from Africa. That's why I'm here."
The old man shrugged. "And that's why you felt it necessary to come into my store without shoes?"
Between the increasingly uncomfortable itch and her own impatience, Taylor saw little point in maintaining the charade. She let her wings out slowly, careful not to knock anything over. The young man stumbled back, shocked. The old man looked on with a blank face.
"They kind of fell off yesterday while I was flying," Taylor said with a chagrined shrug.
"Dad, do we wanna do business with a cape?"
The old man continued to ignore his son. "What do you have?"
Taylor placed one of Dad's more recently (as in the last few centuries) obtained gold coins on the counter. The heavy gold clinked loudly against the glass. The son's eyes finally got pulled off her wings as both he and the older man leaned over and examined the coin.
"It's beaded," the younger man noted. Though he tried to sound calm, Taylor could hear a slight tremor in his voice.
"Get the Sigma," the older man said.
The younger disappeared into the back office. Meanwhile, Taylor pulled her wings back to the between.
The son returned with a bulky, handheld machine they used to test the coin. The device confirmed whatever they needed to confirm.
"This is a Bechtler $5 gold coin, a rare one of high quality and gold content," the old man finally said. "These have sold at auctions for anywhere from $10,000 to over $100,000."
She knew that the $10,000 was an odd low-ball, she could almost read his tone and body language like a book. The coin frankly excited him because of its weight and mint condition.
"I need cash, Mr. Hirshfeld. I'm willing to sell this to you for $60,000. Whatever you get at auction is yours."
The number was too high, she could see it in their faces, but not by too much.
"My dear, there is no guarantee that I can auction it enough to recover the expense. I might be able to offer you $20,000."
Taylor couldn't help but snort. "We both know this coin is worth more than that. And I have more. I have gold coins from Sparta, Egypt and Athens. From Rome, Byzantium, Charlemagne and Louis XIV. I can't even count all the coins Mom and Dad collected over the years. And I might have to sell another before my Dad gets back. If you treat me fairly, I'll remember. Just like Dad remembered."
Thirty minutes later Taylor walked out with hidden wings, $15,000 in cash and a cashier's check for another $30,000, both of which she sent safely Between.
Money secured, she knew it was time to go home. Naturally, that's when Legend floated to the sidewalk in front of her. Legend.
The Legend.
He looked like a movie star. Like Christopher Reeve's Superman, back when superheroes were a thing found only in comic books and movies. He had a square jaw and wavy brown hair, and his skin-tight blue and white costume served almost as a frame to highlight his chiseled body. He personally led the Protectorate nation-wide, attended nearly every Endbringer fight on record, and had moved gay rights into the 21st Century.
He was the Blaster—a flying artillery cape who could shoot lasers powerful enough to level whole city blocks, but who also had such fine control over his lasers he could bend them around corners. He was reputed to be able to fly almost to the speed of light, and could heal himself just by activating his energy breaker-state.
That Legend floated down to the sidewalk in front of Taylor as the rain broke and a shaft of sunlight reflected on the windows of towers behind him.
Her stomach clenched so tightly she had to swallow back bile. People, both on foot and in cars, began to notice how stern the leader of the national Protectorate Team looked. He crossed his arms over his chest and just regarded her.
She allowed her wings to slip back from the Between. What point was there in hiding anymore?
"Will you come peacefully?"
He even sounded strong and confident. Stern. She was a villain to him, someone to be captured and punished for her crimes. Even in her own mind, it was difficult for her to articulate how much it hurt that she'd finally met one of her childhood heroes, and he was there to arrest her.
"I trusted you." Taylor wiped her eyes. "I trusted you! I trusted Narwhal and Miss Militia. I trusted you, and you set me up to die!"
Legend said nothing. He just stood there with his arms crossed, while around him other Protectorate capes started arriving. Fliers. Movers. Brutes. The New York Protectorate Team alone had twenty capes, not including multiple teams of Wards.
"Shadow Stalker was sixteen, Taylor." To her ears, he sounded now almost pleading. "We can't ignore that. You killed a Ward in cold blood," he said. "And then Park Ranger Fred Billingsly not an hour after that. Two dead in a day. How many more people have to die, Taylor?"
"She shot me in the back," Taylor said. "Four times! Fred...I told him to stay still so I could heal him, but he wouldn't!"
Even more capes were arriving behind her. Civilians were scrambling out of the way. Taylor's eyes stung from the disappointment and fear, but in her chest a cold rage began to burn again.
"Taylor." The hero took a step forward, extending a hand as if to a child. "Please don't make this harder for yourself." Legend almost sounded like he cared.
The New York Protectorate formed a cordon around her, fifteen adult capes and at least a few Wards. Many looked like brutes, with one caped black woman who looked like an Alexandria-package with flight, strength and resilience. And in front of her was a man who would always be able to fly faster than her, no matter how fast she went.
"Legend?"
"Yes, Taylor?"
"I know where my father is. Do you know where your Endbringers are?"
In that one moment of confusion that passed across his face, Taylor moved. She didn't bother to notice how the asphalt crumpled under her feet or surrounding windows shattered with her passage. With a flap of her wings she shot herself forward at Legend.
To his credit, in the split second he had to respond he did so with skill and experience. He blurred into a streak of blue-white light and solidified meters away, his hands already aglow with the power of his laser blasts.
She wasn't aiming for him. The perimeter of capes behind him looked like brutes—capes covered in heavy metal armor or going bare-chested like an extra from a bad Italian Hercules movie. She didn't pause and slammed into the group of five capes like a bowling ball into pins. Though her weight was slight, her momentum was sufficient to send two of the capes flying away.
A third bounced a few yards down the street, while the last two looked like they could handle even stronger blows. One of the two began to expand, growing from human size to a towering figure almost twenty feet tall in a blur. A huge fist swung with surprising speed toward her head.
She spun around it and slashed at his Achilles heel with her wing. Whatever brute power he had, her wing pierced it and sent the man stumbling with a cry. The second brute rushed at her with two concrete barriers. One hit her head, but she barely felt it.
She grabbed the other concrete barrier and with a grunt of effort threw the cape still holding it. He flew over her head with a startled yelp right into the face of the Alexandria-package cape that had been flying right at her.
Legend struck. A beam of blue light hit Taylor just as she was throwing concrete boy, faster than she could possibly have avoided it. It wasn't just heat—the beam somehow carried both heat and kinetic energy. It blasted her so hard she not only saw the asphalt crack, she tasted it as it did so because it was her face that cracked it.
Other things struck her without hesitation. The capes weren't attacking one at a time-they were attacking in concert. A large bolt similar to Shadow Stalker's hit her with impossible energy, blasting her out of the crater she'd made and into the side of a building. That actually hurt!
"Holy fuck, she tanked Legend and Flechette!" A young voice called.
A figure in heavy metal slammed into her before she could free herself. His fists were composed of solid steel which he used to pound her face further into the concrete of the building. He let up a split second just to see if he was making any progress, which gave her the opportunity to punch back.
He flew with a breathless grunt out of the hole in the building and across the street into another storefront. She'd barely made it out of the hole when she looked up at a slim figure in lavender and black leaning out the window of a building with a large crossbow in her hand.
A slash of her wing freed up a large piece of asphalt. She had a split second to throw before a spectral bear struck at her. She only caught a glimpse of the side of the building erupting from her thrown projectile before she was fighting with hands and wings against three massive spectral bears.
Metal man came back with a street light pole that he slammed at her legs. Taylor sliced it into pieces in the same motion she shattered one of the spectral bears with her wing. The other two slashed at her, ruining the back of her shirt.
Legend struck again. The laser blast felt stronger this time. The angle was such it didn't blast her into the asphalt, it threw her into the air. In a smooth, practiced move, the Alexandria- package from before slammed into Taylor with a scream and an incredible burst of lighting.
At that moment, the girl with the crossbow proved she'd escaped by firing another bolt that struck Taylor's side, while Legend struck again from the other. Out of nowhere, the giant from before managed to stand and swing an SUV down at her like a giant baseball bat.
All of the attacks combined to slam her into the road. Instantly, Legend struck with a laser that formed a thick layer of ice all over her. For a moment she was too stunned to move-the blows came so quickly with such power that it took a moment for her mind to catch up.
"Siphon, go!"
Taylor caught a glimpse through a small window in the ice of a little girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, running toward her. She wore a shimmering blue skirt and a full-face mask of featureless porcelain. She had almond-colored eyes.
"You're so screwed," the girl said as she knelt down by Taylor's exposed head and placed her hand on her cheeks.
Taylor closed her eyes.
"Oh God!" the girl screamed as she backed away. "Legend! LEGEND!"
Taylor ignored her. Instead, all she could think of was the utter unfairness of it. From the moment she got sick, the Protectorate went after them. It wasn't until they thought they had her under control that they eased up on her.
Only to send her to hell.
Nearby, she could hear the little girl, Siphon, babbling something to Legend about her not being able to steal Taylor's powers, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was the cold knot of rage in her chest. It made her breath catch; it was so powerful.
Her father's rage burned hot, like Lung. When he was killing those pirates, she could almost feel heat coming off him. But her anger didn't burn hot. It burned cold. Helpless and hopeless, she surrendered to that rage now. Her eyes burned with tears as a cold blue fire like the very winds of Helheim began to course over her limbs. The ice around her cracked. The molecules of the water could not maintain cohesion against the absolute magical cold of her rage.
"She's breaking free!" She didn't know who called out the warning. She didn't care.
At her rage, the storm responded. Wind howled and rain poured down in sheets, only to freeze into little stinging pellets before striking the ground. The ice shattered and Taylor used her wings to flip herself out of the crater she'd made. The capes didn't wait to attack. The lightning girl and metal man both struck, as did Legend himself.
Taylor used her wing like a mirror, making her feathers turn reflective with a thought. She directed the blast at lightning girl along with a swirling vortex of air that blasted her through a distant wall, while with her other wing she stabbed straight through the metal man's armor.
He made a wet gurgling sound as he fell back, falling back from the tip of her now glistening wing. She didn't care. The cold winds of Hel swirled around her. Her steps made the asphalt crack, as if all the heat in the surface were pulled away violently. The wind howled so powerful glass shattered from buildings all around.
The capes seemed to know they viewed something beyond them. Even Legend lifted off and backed away.
A heartbeat later, a dark gray missile struck her in the back. She didn't hear it coming until the very last second and had only a moment to brace herself before it struck. The power of the blow didn't just lift her off her feet, it carried her down the street and then far into the air, rising over the city so fast they moved above the clouds in just seconds.
Whoever hit her managed to fit snugly between Taylor's wings and snuck an arm around her neck in a powerful choke hold.
"Surrender or I break your neck," a hard, feminine voice ordered. No pleas. Not negotiation.
"No," Taylor whispered.
The arm began to squeeze. It was the most powerful thing Taylor ever felt, and she could feel her mother's protections straining against the brute power of it almost as much as the lavender cape's projectiles. Rather than fight, Taylor called upon her own power of flight.
Her wings were only symbols, after all.
Their sudden plunge caught the hero who had her in a chokehold by surprise, giving Taylor the moment she needed to direct them to a place of her choosing. Not back into the city. No, whoever had her was stronger than the other capes and putting them back on the ground would just start the whole fight again.
Instead, Taylor sent them plunging right toward the Hudson.
The hero squeezed Taylor's neck so hard all air stopped. Her vision began to redden, but try as the hero did, she couldn't overpower Taylor's own flying power. In seconds they slammed into the water. Nor did Taylor stop just under the surface. She continued down into the murky depths.
Upon gaining her full divinity, Taylor became as much a creature of the sea as the sky. She used her wings as propellers despite her passenger, soaring through the water as she might the sky. The water itself seemed to form a shell around her, allowing her to move even faster than she would have otherwise.
Abruptly the chokehold let up. Taylor spun in the water, shocked to see that her attacker had been Alexandria herself. The most powerful flying brute in the world stared intently at Taylor for one split second before she shot up toward the distant air.
Taylor's magic allowed her a deep breath within the water. Above, she could see Alexandria speaking with Legend, while other capes floated in the air above them looking down as if waiting for her.
They had no idea.
Taylor moved deeper even as she focused her sight to position herself. She could feel north like a person could feel the sun on their skin and let it guide her path. All around her, her vision turned the ocean into a sky of heavy air. She could see the fish moving about like birds, while below the ocean floor drifted by like the ground.
In a strange moment, she could almost envision little ocean farms and towns below. The merpeople would look up at her and wonder if she was a flying fish or not.
As fast as she was in the water, it was nothing compared to how fast she could fly in the air. Which meant a flight that would have taken only minutes ended up lasting an hour. Finally, though, she reached a bay in which she could see ships in size from small fishing boats to massive international cargo ships scuttled and sunk. The Boat Graveyard of Brockton Bay.
She blasted out of the water just north of the city and began flying north toward the cabin. Whatever else she and Mimir discussed, she knew now that the broader city was no longer an option. She would have to wait in the cabin with its protections until her father returned. He would know what to do.
She half expected more heroes waiting for her around the park. At this stage, all she needed was for Eidolon and the Slaughterhouse Nine to make an appearance. Despite that fear, though, no other enemies waited for her over the forest. She swooped down into the trees and ran through her mother's protections with a shaky, relieved sigh.
Her hands were still shaking when she pulled out her trunk and removed Mimir.
"Ach, lass! What happened to ya?"
Taylor sank into the old, dusty cushioned of the couch, covered her face with her hands, and just breathed. "Little Sister?"
Legend. Alexandria. More capes just tried to capture her than she'd ever heard of working together outside of an Endbringer attack. Her. Not the Slaughterhouse Nine, Nilbog or Heartbreaker. Her. She remembered the little girl, Siphon. "You're so screwed."
Even if the girl's attack didn't work, the words echoed in her head. Because whether she escaped or not, she was still screwed. The entire world thought she was a villain. For a moment, the sheer absurdity of it stole her breath. When at last she could breathe, it was with a desperate, shocked laugh.
"Oh, that's never good," Mimir muttered as Taylor collapsed in a hysterical fit of laughter. "Let's see, five...no. No, six, five, four, three, two one…"
Her laughter turned to great, heaving sobs as if Mimir's words were a switch. The sobs came so quickly and so hard Alexandria might as well have been choking her again, for all she could breathe. Worse yet, she wasn't even sure what she was crying for. Because the world hated her and considered her a villain? Because her childhood heroes just threatened to kill her?
Because she was alone and flailing while her father risked his life to protect her?
When the spell passed, she took a long, shuddering breath. "There, now, Little Sister," Mimir said gently. "Better?"
She nodded. "I have thousands of dollars, but the heroes came for me before I had a chance to buy anything. Mom's shirt is ruined."
On some level she felt bothered by how little of her clothes remained. She was fairly certain anyone videoing the fight caught more of her chest than was right for an underaged person. She ripped the shirt off in disgust, only to freeze.
"Oh fuck," she said.
"What is it, Lass?"
Near the collar of her hoodie, right below the nape of her neck, was what looked like a silver patch. It didn't glow or blink, but she could see the lines of circuitry running throughout.
"It's a tracker, has to be," she whispered. She knew when it was attached, too. Alexandria. Did the super heroine somehow know that Taylor would escape, or was it some type of back up plan? Alexandria was reputed not just to be a flying powerhouse. Supposedly she had a Thinker power as well that made her hyper intelligent.
"Within the boundaries of this home, no mortal eyes, nor anything made of mortal hands, can see," Mimir said. "Such has always been the case of both magic and divine protections. Whether the spells be from the Dagda, the gods of your parents or any other pantheon, that tracker turned off the moment you entered your parent's lands."
"But they know where my home is, now. Even if they can't come in, they know where I am now."
"Aye, lass, but they can do naught about it. Your mum made sure of that, and you've taken her magic and made it even stronger. Rest, Little Sister. In this place, if no other, you're safe."
Blinking, Taylor focused on the forest around her. Though she searched, she could find no sign of any parahumans. Only birds, a few bears gorging for hibernation, and other forest animals preparing for winter.
"I'm going to find something to eat."
She still had some olive oil from the previous night's dinner, with enough rice, beans and flour for a few more meals, at least. She didn't have any eggs, but she was able to make some simple fried bread that she ate with an olive, tomato and onion tapenade. She wouldn't have minded fish or some wild fowl, but after her adventures of the day she didn't want to wait too long.
Some searching in the cabin's storage bin found her mother's mundane, hand-carved bow. Dad had one as well, and when she was young she thought he made them both. It wasn't until she started training with them, though, that her mother corrected her understanding.
"The hunter makes her bow," she told Taylor as they went out to find the right wood for what would be Taylor's practice bow. Which was back in Brockton Bay, in the attic with the rest of her mother's things.
Her mother's bow, though, had been lovingly stored away in its oiled leather sheath. She pulled it out and rubbed her hand over the smooth, lacquered wood. Mother did give into modernity by employing a much stronger string than would have been available in her childhood.
Her hunting trip yielded a nice pheasant that she prepared and had in the Dutch oven before the sun set. She ate by the light of a kerosene lamp that was only half full. She was running low on fuel, she knew, and would need to begin to harvest wood for winter if she was going to stay warm all winter long. She'd need more food, too. What mother had in the jars was just what was left when they last came together as a family. It wouldn't support her through the month, much less winter.
"The only problem is the moment I go out to buy anything, everyone will come after me," she muttered.
"Aye, 'tis a problem," Mimir admitted. "But if I may say, let tomorrow's problems be. For now, you need to rest. Go sleep, child."
~~Theogony~~
~~Theogony~~
The ski resort town nestled itself in a valley between two peaks. With the sudden, unexpected snow that Taylor created with her tantrum, white blanketed the whole community. The ground was too warm, though, and already the snow was beginning to melt.
She flew in from the forest, trying her best to stay just under the tips of the trees. Fortunately, the trees continued almost to the parking lot of the strip mall that held the ReSale Thrift Store she and her mother used to visit when she was younger.
She sent her wings Between, doing her best to ignore the sudden itching it caused, and pulled on one of her father's hoodies. Even clean, the strong smell of him clung to it. She covered her bare feet in a pair of mother's sandals that she only wore when they went out to Lincoln for a dinner or a movie. Mother and Dad both always loved movies.
With a hood over her hair, her feet covered and her wings hidden, Taylor walked from the trees through the back-loading area until she reached the parking lot of the two-story strip mall. Like most everything in Lincoln, it was made of wood beams and slats. It was the cheapest place she could think of for clothes.
The desk with the cash register was empty when Taylor stepped in. The little bell announced her presence, and a few seconds later a white-haired, thickset woman in a lavender flower-print dress came rolling from the back.
"Hello, dear," the woman said in a thick Nor'easter accent. She peered intently at Taylor's ill-fitted clothing and sandals. "Looking for something in particular?"
"Um, most of my clothes got stolen from the laundromat. I just started at the lodge, I don't have a lot of money to replace them."
"Oh, you poor dear! Well, I'll show you what I have. You're a bit tall for most of my stock, but if you're willing to be unconventional we can get you something! If nothing else, we can get you some better shoes!"
Taylor's back was almost burning with the need to let her wings out when Mrs. Hager rang her up. "Thanks for all your help! I'll make sure to tell the other girls at the lodge about this place!"
"You do that, dear!"
The moment Taylor turned a corner, she sent the bags of clothes Between, removed the hoody to reveal the torn T-shirt below, and released her wings with a sigh of relief. She flapped her wings and shot into the forest, moving west across the river that ran parallel to the main street, until she came to a larger, newer strip mall that held the grocery store for the town.
The last time she'd been in this store was the summer before her mother died. It felt strange to enter now with her new-to-her sneakers and her father's hoody back over her T-shirt. She kept her eyes down, knowing their luminescence could give her away, took a cart, and began shopping for the supplies she would need to survive the winter.
She filled the cart with bags of flour, rice, beans and lentils-those foods whose preparation made them bothersome for anyone with a microwave. She bought boxes of simple candles, kerosene and dry pasta, matches for their convenience and bags of sugar. Tea and hot chocolate. She even bought a small radio and batteries, though she wasn't sure it would work at the cabin.
The checker was an older man with glasses perched on the end of a nose that had been carved up, making him look almost skeletal. "Shouldn't you be in school, young lady?"
"Graduated early," she lied as she unloaded everything onto the conveyer belt. As she did so, she saw a box of dark chocolate bars. She grabbed them all and added them to the belt.
Being a weekday between tourist seasons in a small town whose economy was driven by tourism, the store wasn't heavily staffed. Which meant the suspicious old man was also her bagger. She walked around to help, just because he was so slow. She winced when he finished ringing her up and saw the hefty price tag.
She had to count out two of her hundred-dollar bills from the coin shop in New York, then another three twenties.
The old man held each bill up, checking for counterfeit. Not quite satisfied but unable to prove them false, he accepted the money and printed the receipt. "Have a nice day," he said.
"Thank you."
She began sending the many bags of groceries Between as she walked out, until by the time she returned the cart it was empty. She walked toward the camping supply store down the sidewalk to get kerosene for her lanterns.
When the last of her shopping was done, she left to head home. She hadn't even made it off the covered sidewalk when a slim, dark shape floated down out of the air with a thick cape hanging down to the heels of her militaristic boots.
Taylor's wings ripped free of her hoodie and she shot into the air. Nearby shoppers stopped what they were doing and stared at the once-in-a-lifetime sight of a winged girl and Alexandria facing each other.
The heroine and co-founder of the Protectorate hung unmoving. Her costume was a dark gray with slimming lines and a symbol of the Library of Alexandria on her chest. Her helmet swept forward from her neck, forming a translucent face mask that was dark enough to hide her eyes, but lightened until just over her nose, leaving her mouth visible. Her cape did not flap in the light breeze. Instead, it hung as if weighted from her shoulders.
"You hungry?" she asked.
The question brought Taylor up short. "What?"
"There was a steak and fish place near that thrift store that got pretty good reviews," the woman continued. She sounded...normal. West Coast, with a slight laziness to her pronunciation. "If you'd rather fight we can do that too, but after seeing what you did to your high school I'm not sure the town would survive it. And Legend gets very prissy when it snows too early."
"Is this a joke?"
The heroine tilted her head. "It's a confession, Taylor. Ten minutes after you got away from New York, I saw a video of what actually happened. Armsmaster and the Brockton Bay Protectorate arrived just in time to see you kill a Ward. It wasn't until later, when they were able to review footage of the entire fight, that we saw why. There was a lot going on yesterday and this morning, more than you know. I didn't come to fight. I came to talk."
"You were trying to kill me in New York."
The hero shrugged. "I'm not perfect, Taylor. I acted based on the information I had available. That's all any of us can do. Now I know more of what really happened and more of your circumstances, and I'm acting on that new information."
"And when we're done, Taylor, I'll let you decide. We obviously want you to come back. You're fourteen. That's awfully young to be alone. But I won't stop you if you leave. In the meantime, surf and turf?"