A/N: Chap 25 review responses are in my forums as normal. And now, some answers to questions, and...a break.
Chapter Twenty-Six: That Which Was Stolen
Taylor's room in the CPR building at Brookhaven Labs felt like what she'd always imagined a luxurious hotel room to be like. It was a two-room suite with comfortable, stylish furniture in the small but functional living area, and a luxurious master bath suite off the bedroom. Dr. Wakefield told her that making subjects comfortable was important during the testing period.
She sat on the couch of the living area now, staring out the window at the Atlantic. The ocean looked the same, whether from New York or Brockton Bay. She could see the ever-present glow of New York just on the edge of the window's frame, while to the east the horizon glowed with the promise of the sun.
She imagined what her father was doing at that moment. In her mind's eye, she could see him making the rounds through the growing army of refugees and desperate parahumans who would surely have flocked to his banner against the seemingly unstoppable horde of Moord Nag's warlords. He wouldn't say much as he walked among them. A nod here, a hand on the shoulder there. She'd seen him do the same with the Dockworkers.
He would kneel down in front of a frustrated teen and quickly, efficiently show the young man how to strip and clean his rifle. Showing wouldn't be enough, though. He'd make the young man repeat the movements three times. He'd wait patiently, just watching, until the boy was done. When satisfied, he would not his approval with a low grunt.
A nod from her father was more powerful than a thousand hugs from teachers and friends. She knew the boy would sit up more confidently. How proud he'd feel, having earned her father's nod of approval. Approval given freely without cause was worthless. But approval earned? That had meaning.
He'd tour the entire camp like a general. No, Taylor corrected herself. Not like a general. He would be the general. He wouldn't just command the people, he would lead them, and they would follow.
"I miss you, Daddy," she whispered.
She imagined that he stopped, then, and turned West. To face her. He'd lift his hand to his heart, because they both knew he fought not for the world, but for her and her alone. She smiled as she wiped away a tear.
"Telos?"
The voice should have startled her. It seemed to appear out of nowhere almost at her ear, feminine and deep and strong. She didn't spin to face it, though. Not because she wasn't startled, but because she didn't want to look away from her father's face. But it was all in her mind, she knew. Once she forced herself to accept the vision for what it was, she turned to find herself facing Alexandria.
"Your godmother told us she had to go," Alexandria said. She spoke...much more gently than the last time they met. "Something about not wanting the two of you in the same place for too long."
Taylor nodded. She thought back to her godmother's arms around her. Of her voice cooing to her and bringing a tiny ray of hope through the despair. "Yeah not ready yet, girly-child," Sunny whispered to her. "Yeah have no armor. Yeah have not the sight to see the way out. It's not enough to see the truth of a soul, yeah need eyes to see the truth o' the world! 'Til then, yeah don't go theah! Not 'til yeah ready!"
Her words still rang in Taylor's mind as only a divine warning could.
Alexandria came around the edge of the sofa and sat down. Her cape barely crinkled under her as she did so. "Are you doing better?" She sounded remarkably ordinary. Like any other woman Taylor might meet in the course of a day.
Mutely, Taylor nodded.
"The material you were coated in had some unique and alarming qualities," Alexandria continued. "Your godmother probably saved some uncontrolled triggers by making us wash you in the Sound. We're fairly certain anyone who touched it would get powers."
"And it would be a living power, not a dead one, like yours or Legend's," Taylor said.
Her throat was too raw for her to speak any louder. It was healing, but for now she did not want to speak loudly. It was when Alexandria went utterly still that the impression of a statue became so apparent. After a long moment, she leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "My power really does bother you, doesn't it?"
The question did not sound antagonistic nor particularly worried. Just curious. Taylor focused, then, bringing her full power onto the cape. Just like looking at the leaves when she and her father went to the cabin at the start of her adventure, her vision zoomed into Alexandria, seeing her in a way that transcended the purely physical. She saw the truth of Alexandria.
"Un-aging, unchanging. Your power stopped every biological process you have except your brain. It didn't cure your cancer, it just slowed it almost to a stop. You don't need to eat, and when you do you have to throw it up later because you can't digest food anymore. The only biological process left is your mind-it's the only reason you still have to breathe. But you never triggered. Not like other capes. Other capes, their powers coil tightly around their souls. But yours? Even without seeing your eyes, I can tell that your power just lays over your soul, burying it. You and Legend both-your power is dead."
With deliberate slowness, Alexandria undid the bindings that connected her helmet to the body of her suit and lifted it off her helmet.
Her black hair instantly resumed its shape. There was no sweat or lines on her forehead from the helmet. She did have a faint scar near her left eye—the only time she'd ever been hurt. Not from an Endbringer, but rather the naked, striped cannibal known as the Siberian. She'd been hurt in the same fight that saw Hero, the first and most famous Tinker, killed.
It should have shocked Taylor to her core that underneath Alexandria's helmet was the face of Rebecca Costa-Brown, the civilian Chief Director of the PRT. She'd seen that face on television for years, often in the presence of presidents and congressmen.
"What happened to civilian oversight?" Taylor asked dryly.
"Believe it or not, I still do answer to a civilian," Alexandria said with a wry smile. "But the threat we face reaches beyond any one nation, or even any one dimension of earth. The world needed a Protectorate and PRT, and those organizations needed a public face that would make integration for parahumans possible."
"It's not enough," Taylor whispered.
"I know. I hoped. For years, I hoped and prayed, but I know now it's not enough."
Faith. Taylor felt it as a tingle in the back of her mind, and realized with a strangely calm acceptance that Alexandria believed. Not just that Taylor was more than parahuman, but Taylor as a god. Removing her helmet and showing her face was an act of trust and faith. Perhaps penitence as well. The faith was not as strong as the Waters family, but it was there.
"Where did you go, Taylor?"
Still studying this woman under the weight of her power, Taylor could see both the truth and hidden truths in her words. And in answer to that faith, and that trust, Taylor answered. She lifted a hand to her Brisingamen, trying not to think of the charred, single necklace of Sunny's protective charm.
"Yggdrasil isn't a myth," she whispered. The memories and knowledge floated into her mind as called. "It was a... I guess you would call it a dimensional portal. The gods of Asgard crafted their realms along the portal. Midgard was Earth, but Asgard, Muspelheim, Jotunheim...the other eight realms coexisted in space, but in different domains of reality along Yggdrasil. And I don't think they were the only gods that did it that way. Olympus, Tartarus and Elysium were the same. The Ennead of Egypt. Every godly realm was tied to portals just like Yggdrasil. When I move things Between, I'm storing them in the places between Yggdrasil's branches, like the Dwarves who crafted Brisingamen and Dad's axe could do."
"What happened?"
A painful sob tore its way from her throat. "That's where his true form is. Coiled around Yggdrasil and all the other domains of all the gods throughout all the worlds he's killed. He's holding their essences. Imprisoning the dead. Mother was there…"
Alexandria sat like a statue for a long time until Taylor forced herself to breathe and stop acting like a silly, heart-broken little girl. She stared at the woman who had been conning the world for decades, now. "You and Legend know what he is, don't you?" Taylor asked. "That form we see…"
"Is an avatar only. We know." The hero, who not only founded the Protectorate and PRT but also secretly ran it in her civilian ID, merely nodded. "It's been the driving force for every action I've taken since I gained my power," she said. "Do you know how to kill him?"
He was so large, so vast. He filled whole skies of whole realms. I am fallen.
"No. Not yet." Taylor wiped her eyes. "Sunny said I didn't have the armor or weapons I needed, or the eyes to truly see what I need to see. But I know I'll have to face him. It's why I was born. Why Dad's in Africa, distracting Him and his servants. But it's not time yet."
Alexandria considered this before turning and looking out the window. "Are there others like you and Sunny, Taylor? Like your father?"
Taylor snorted, despite herself. "Would you believe that Lung really is a dragon? He is Ryujin, Dragon God of the Sea. That's why Leviathan attacked Kyushu-to destroy Lung's domain."
"He enslaves girls to prostitution and drug manufacturing, ruthlessly murders his enemies and deals drugs," Alexandria said. "The only reason he hasn't had a kill order issued was the hope he'd fight in the next Endbringer battle."
Taylor shrugged. "He's an ancient god. Not as old as my parents, I don't think. At least, not in his current form, but he's a god from ancient Japan. He doesn't really care about modern concepts of morality and law."
"And your father?"
"My parents have walked the lands of this world for thousands of years. They changed as the world changed around them."
"So there are more gods? More being like you that could help?"
It hurt to say it. Find Brigid. "No. I think...Lung might be the last of his pantheon, and he's been vastly weakened. There aren't many, not anymore. Not like Dad, or Mom."
"Or you?"
Taylor shook her head. "I didn't understand, before. How he could kill all the gods so easily. Now I do. Gods of are tied to their domains. Thor wouldn't be nearly as powerful in Egypt. Zeus would not be nearly so powerful in China. Scion poisoned the domains of all the gods, casting them out and weakening them. All but those gods of the physical plane."
The two sat in silence for the longest time before Alexandria slipped her helmet back on and stood.
"You don't have to finish your testing, Taylor. I think we have what we need. Go home. Agent Minton has a PRT-issued phone for you. In addition to local contacts, it will have the number to Legend and myself programmed in. If you need us, or learn anything that you believe is important, don't hesitate to call."
"That's it?" Taylor asked. "No dark conspiracies or threats for privacy?"
The older heroine tilted her head to the side as she regarded Taylor. "I've done many things I'm not proud of. I've allowed things to occur that sicken and horrify me. I've killed people, and lost those I admired and loved. But always it was for one mission. Every human being alive, regardless of what dimension of earth they occupy, is at risk. I would do anything to save as many as I can. And I can say this to you, because I know you feel the same way."
She leaned over and placed her hand on Taylor's shoulder. "Get some sleep."
~~Theogony~~
~~Theogony~~
Taylor's dreams raged within her mind. She dreamt of the Aesir-Vanir War-of Odin One-Eye throwing his spear across the field of battle and the blood of gods watering the ice of a frozen lake as Valkyries gathered the dead. She dreamt of titans the size of mountains crossing the primordial landscape of a different earth, fighting against beings that wielded greater power, even if they were a fraction of their size.
She dreamt of a fire giant as tall as mountains with a flaming sword in hand, shattering the walls of Asgard with a roar that made the heavens quake.
And she dreamt of her mother's crushed face staring at her with a single, lifeless eye.
She woke with a start. Around her, ice had crept like hoarfrost across the carpet and up the walls of her room. It began to sublimate back to the air like dry ice as she sat up from her bed. When she looked back, she saw that her wings had torn her sheets and even the mattress apart. Though curtains were drawn, she could feel the sun at its zenith.
She took her third shower in the past ten hours and pulled the last of her clean clothes from her overnight back. Looking in the mirror, she watched as her hair fell about her shoulders as if she'd spent an hour combing it. Her curls had loosened so that her hair hung lower about her shoulders than before.
The recycled air whispered to her of food, causing her stomach to growl. She gathered all of her things back into her little travel pack-a little backpack she could hang between her wings that held the new clothes Agent Minton or Zoe Barnes purchased for her. There weren't many that fit now, because of her wings.
When she left her room, she felt no surprise to see a PRT agent outside. The woman dressed like Whitmore had at Winslow-a tac vest over a white PRT shirt instead of full armor.
"Telos!" The woman jumped a little before regaining her demeanor. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"I was going to go get some lunch."
"Okay. Enjoy."
The agent made no move to follow. She did, however, reach for a radio tucked into her vest. Taylor continued toward the elevator. When she emerged on the first floor, she saw the Wards from her testing class gathered at a table eating. Their resource agents and researchers sat nearby. Agent Minton sat among them.
All conversation slowed as Taylor walked calmly to the buffet. Lunch that day was a salad and deli bar. She grabbed a couple of pieces of rye and built herself a respectable Reuben, with a salad on the side. The apples made her hesitate, but only for a moment before she took one. A large cup of water finished her meal.
The Wards stared wide-eyed as Taylor joined them. She'd not had much chance to visit with them during her first day of testing. "Hi, angel!" Ignis said.
Taylor smiled at the young man. "Hi, Ignis. Are you being good?"
"Yeah!"
The large jock was a breaker and a brute named Boulder. He put down his Dagwood sandwich, the size of which forced him to squeeze it into a paste to get even his massive mouth around it. "The fuck happened to you yesterday, Wings?"
Taylor shrugged and took a bite of her sandwich. The others just stared as she chewed. "I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque."
"I don't get it," Zephyr, the young aerokinetic, said.
"I don't think they show Bugs Bunny cartoons anymore," said the Bogart-wannabe, Typecast.
"The whole Elmer Fudd blackface thing probably did it," Boulder agreed wisely. "So, are you going to do any more testing?"
"No, I'm going home. Just thought I'd get a bite to eat first." She kept eating her sandwich, and when nothing else happened the other Wards relaxed a little and continued their own meals. When Taylor finished her lunch, she picked up the apple and studied it.
It spoke to her, like everything seemed to. Most objects had little to say, their spirits weak or uninteresting. All a rock knew was its shaping. But the apple whispered to her of potential, and of how well it could hold her magic. She glanced from it to Ignis. The young man was happily eating cheese pizza while laughing at a cartoon he watched on a little computer tablet.
He felt a year or so younger than Taylor's, but trapped forever in a box. She sensed within the depths of his mind a terrible, powerful fire.
"You gonna eat that or what?" Boulder asked.
"You ever hear of a Norse goddess named Idunn?" Taylor asked. It seemed odd how sure she was of what she planned to do.
"Nope," Boulder said.
Taylor held up the apple. "Idunn created golden apples that kept the gods of Asgard young and hale. Or at least, that's the legend. Really, she was half-Vanir, half elf and enchanted apples with a healing spell. It was Vanir magic she used. Her spell went like this."
Taylor chanted and her magic flowed into that of the apple, causing it to take on a translucent golden glow. The other Wards slowed their eating. "What language was that?" Typecast demanded. "It made my ears hurt."
"It's Vanir cant," Taylor said absently. "A language of gods. It's a magical language. Ignis, do you want a magic apple?"
"Sure!" Ignis said. She tossed it across the length of the table. Despite his autism, Ignis had good reflexes and caught the fruit. "It's glowing!" he said.
"It's magic," Taylor told him. "If you eat it, it will bring you clarity."
Ignis's analyst, Dr. Sreenivasan, stood from her table nearby in alarm. Taylor, though, ignored her and watched Ignis intently as the young man smiled happily and took a bite of the apple. "Tastes yummy!" he declared.
"Ignis, sweetie, perhaps you should…" Dr. Sreenivasan stopped mid-step when Ignis began to keen. Taylor stood calmly from her seat and walked around the table as the other resource agents stood in alarm at Ignis's high-pitched, pained cry.
"Telos, what did you do?" Agent Minton called.
Taylor continued to ignore them all. She knelt down at the end of the table beside Ignis and gently placed a hand on his shoulder as he cried. He looked up at her, his face ravaged by grief, and almost tackled her in a desperate hug. He howled into her shoulder as she stood and embraced him not just with her arms, but her wings.
"What the fuck is going on?" Boulder whispered.
Ignis's knees buckled. He was not a large boy, and continued to cling to her as she gently folded down into a sitting position. Around her, resource agents and researchers gathered in alarm. Taylor looked over the boy's head at the concerned Dr. Sreenivasan.
"Purity isn't what makes your soul beautiful," she told the older woman. "Purity is emptiness. It's life that makes you beautiful. Pain, love, anger and knowledge. Experience. Ignis was trapped in his own little box, pure and empty. I've opened that box now. Now he knows pain and loss. Guilt and anguish. Love. His power is now paired with a mind to use it, and he could be the most powerful tinker to live. His tinker power isn't fire. It's energy. And his name isn't Ignis any more. His name is Prometheus. Remember that."
In her lap, the newly named Prometheus looked at her with a face ravaged by pain. "I killed them," he sobbed. "I killed my mommy and daddy."
"I know, sweetheart," Taylor said. She gently ran a hand through his hair. "I can see them. They've been with you all this time, Tony. Watching you. Loving you. Look, and see."
With her hands caressing his temples, he turned to where she nodded and gasped as the spirits of his dead parents took form. Just like the weak spirits of the air, her power gave them the strength to materialize. To others they appeared as two balls of blue foxlight. But to Tony Barden, he saw his parents.
In the land of the living, they were too weak to speak aloud. But their expressions said everything.
"Life hurts, Tony," Taylor whispered. "As young as I am, that's the first lesson I learned. Life hurts. Loss hurts. It's that hurt, and how we grow from it, that makes us who we are. The one thing that remains is hope. And that's my blessing to you. I bless you, Tony, with the eternal power of hope. Your life is your own now. Your power is yours to control."
His tears eased as he stared at the ghostly forms of his parents while still sitting on Taylor's lap like a child. He stood from her and walked toward them, reaching out so that the blue fire of their hands danced around his.
Behind him, Taylor also stood and waited until the two spirits finally faded, having exhausted their potential on the mortal plane. Tony turned, and as he did so his posture changed. He straightened his back and pulled his shoulders until the young man who faced her seemed almost a different person entirely. His eyes looked red and puffy from tears.
"You really are an angel, aren't you?" He sounded completely different, tired and weary, but also intensely aware.
"Something like that," she agreed with a smile. "If you need me, Prometheus, say my name with faith, and I will hear you. If you need to find me, I'll be in Brockton Bay."
She turned to the others. "It was nice meeting you. Good luck."
With that, she started walking toward the doors of the facility. She was just to the glass doors when Minton caught up to her, a little short of breath from sprinting. "Taylor, was that an illusion? To make Ignis feel better?"
"It's Prometheus. And no, those were the souls of his parents. They lingered to watch over him. Now that he's whole, they'll be able to move on."
"But...but...that doesn't...that's not a power!"
Taylor turned to the woman. "I'm not a parahuman. So, I'm going home now. Alexandria said I could skip the rest of the power testing. Do you have my new phone?"
Minton stuttered. "But...what...I mean…" Flustered beyond speech, the agent removed a tinker-made smartphone from one of the pockets of her cargo-style black PRT pants.
"Thanks. I'll see you back in the Bay."
Taylor stepped outside. She blasted into the air, flying up through the clouds until she emerged in beautiful, bright blue sky. She could see contrails of jets all around her-it was New York, after all. She turned and flew north, feeling the direction like one might feel the wind on their back.
~~Theogony~~
~~Theogony~~
When Taylor came down in front of her house, she found three old, beaten pick-up trucks parked there. She saw men and women moving around in the house, and on the sidewalk was a large trash hauler. And further down the street she saw a PRT sedan.
When she stepped inside, it was to find all the trash gone, but also most of the plaster, the shattered kitchen cabinets, and even some of the flooring. The house had been gutted in many spots down to its studs. In the middle of it stood Kurt Waters, his arms crossed, as he spoke to a PRT agent who barely came to his shoulder. It was another resource agent, this time a small, fussy looking man.
The agent turned as Taylor entered, and actually paled. "Telos. I…see you're back. I'm Agent Gibbon, PRT. With Agent Minton overseeing your power testing, I was tasked with assisting your…friends in repairing your home."
"A pleasure to meet you," she said. She came to stand by Kurt, reaching up one wing to drape over his broad shoulder like an arm. "Were you able to save anything?"
"Lacy went through everything," Kurt assured her. "They never got up into the attic or down in your basement. We saved a lot of the pictures. The house was a mess, though. Plaster was trashed, there were some structural issues, and some crackhead yanked wires out of a lot of the walls."
"How much to repair it?"
Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but she gave him a meaningful look. "Ah, well there's 'round sixteen hundred square foot not counting the basement. Nine-foot ceilings. I'd say we can get the plaster switched out for drywall for $30 a panel, if I get the guys to do it. DWA has some leftover insulation we could give you for pennies on the dollar. Might be a good time to update your wiring. Danny could make a couch from driftwood, but he couldn't wire a lamp for shit. Wiring in this house was last updated in the 60s."
"How much are we talking?" Taylor asked.
Kurt shrugged. "Baby, me'n the boys 'll do it for you at cost. Thirty a panel, maybe forty panels of drywall. Maybe a thousand to rewire. It'll be easy to rewire the house once we get the plaster off. We can even throw in some Cat 5 and coaxial cables to the bedrooms for computers and TVs 'n shit. Say $1200 for the drywall, $1000 for the wiring?"
"With her contract as an associate Telos is entitled to some fairly generous stipends for housing expenses that fall outside her normal grant money," Gibbon said.
Kurt looked from the agent to Taylor, and she nodded meaningfully back at the agent.
"Right. That's good. So, as I was saying, me and the boys can get this done for you for under $20,000, easy."
Taylor laughed aloud and hugged him. "Get it done in a week?"
"For another two thousand, sure. I'll go call the boys, tell 'em we got a rush job! Nice to meet yeah, Agent Gibbon." He whistled happily as he walked by the now gaping PRT.
"Did he…?"
"Yes, he did."
"But...that's…"
"What can I say? He's a union man."
The agent shook his head, then chuckled. "Well, the grants are more than enough to cover it. So, I have an emergency order from the family courts affirming your status as an independent minor until a more formal hearing can be held. New Hampshire doesn't have a formal emancipation process, but this order serves the same role. My job today is to help you get your city utilities and taxes cleared, help you set up a bank account, and get you registered for Arcadia."
Taylor winced. "We haven't paid last year's taxes, have we? Dad always paid in cash."
Gibbon chuckled again. "Telos, the President of the United States declared you an essential national asset this morning. Taxes are not going to be a problem for you. Not ever again. So, we have a lot to do. I'm sure Agent Minton will be glad to have a little less work waiting for her if you want to get some of this knocked out."
"Absolutely. Sooner the better."