Chapter 11

"Hey, Taylor!" Moira called. I saw her exiting the building Michelle in tow. It took almost a minute for them to make their way through the press of other students.

"God, Fridays are such a mess round here," Michelle complained.

"Loads of people in a hurry to do nothing," I grumped.

"Speaking of which, join us at Grinders," Moira offered. "It's been ages since we've just hung out."

I sighed heavily. "I can't. I've got console duty all evening."

"Again!" Michelle protested.

"Still," I clarified.

"That's what? Six weekends in a row?" Michelle asked. "Is this still because of Vermont? When are they gonna let up?"

I almost complained then realized I had nothing to say they had not heard a thousand times before. It had been six weeks since the marble mine misadventure. I had been on limited duty the whole time. Retraining during the week and console duty on the weekends. The rest of Team Nemesis had been ether given leave or sent to off-site training opportunities during that time, which was not winning me any friends among the PRT agents. They all blamed me for their fellow agents' perceived punishment.

"I mean I was only grounded for two week and I'm the one that forced you to take me along." Michelle's father had ended up relenting and cutting her grounding back from 'until you're in grad school'. "That's unfair in so many ways."

"You don't have to tell me," I muttered.

"Would it help if we went public? Raised a stink? Started a social media campaign? Protested in front of the PRT building?" Michelle considered.

"Um … not to put a damper on your upcoming revolution, but why is Backwoods Barbie giving Taylor the stink-eye?" Moira asked, nodding in the direction of Tammi Herren. She was a student who moved to Brockton Bay from the woods of rural New Hampshire, real "Live Free or Die" country. The girl was openly glaring at me.

"We had another 'issue' in English class today," I answered with a shrug, staring back at the girl blankly. "I'm not sure what I ever did to her, but she's hated me since I started here."

"Looks like Taylor's not the only one with a stalker," Michelle teased, nodding towards a South Asian boy who was looking nervously at Moira.

"Oh, that's Abrar. He needs some notes from Bio," Moira said, looking between the boy and me.

"Why doesn't he come here to talk to you?" I asked, suspecting the truth.

"He's a little nervous around you," Moira admitted. "Some people are afraid of capes. You, Vickie, and Amy are the only public ones at the school, so you get to be the target of some of that fear. Other than that, he's pretty cool. But phobias aren't rational."

"Yeah. Ok. I've got to get to the PRT anyway. Console duty calls."

I started jogging away as my two friends waved at my retreating back. Abrar was not the only person who avoided me. I never knew which people were avoiding me for which reason. I spent my afternoon commute considering just how many people disliked me for one reason or another.

That line of thought became the main topic of discussion during my PRT-mandated counseling session with Special Agent Howard. "That's not an uncommon issue for teenage girls and boys. Being different can make it worse. Many Wards find themselves feeling isolated. Is that what you are feeling?"

"Isolated? Damn straight. Everybody hates me," I replied, my voice filled with barely suppressed anger. "My team all think they've got better things to do than babysit me. The Wards don't want me. Even Armsmaster says I'll never be able to be a regular hero, never join a Protectorate team. I'm too dangerous to be around!"

"Were you feeling that before you ran away?" Howard inquired.

"I've told you a hundred times, I didn't run away! I … just didn't tell anyone I was going. It's not like I wasn't coming back. But yeah, I was feeling particularly isolated."

I got up and started pacing while molding an old metal weight plate Howard kept in the room to give me an outlet for my anger and anxiety.

"Now it's all so much worse," I admitted. "They're still so angry at me – Hollis, Calvert, Piggot, even my dad. It doesn't matter that I saved a bunch of people and stopped a villain from rampaging around the area. Everything I did was wrong. Because it all started with my 'running away from home'."

"Fruit of the tainted tree …" Howard murmured.

"Yeah," I sighed then sat back down. "Did you know Dad almost yanked me from the Wards. But I think he's a little afraid of me and figures you guys are ethe only ones that can handle me. Not that you want me all that much either."

An alarm beeped. Howard looked at it and frowned. "Taylor, you're not going to believe me, but while your feelings are valid and real, they're based on a misunderstanding. The PRT very much wants you to be here and be happy in what you do with us. Our time is up, but I want to talk more about this next week. In the meanwhile, I want you to make a conscious effort to consider possible motivations for people's words and actions towards you other than that they hate you or are afraid of you. Alright?"

"Sure, whatever." I replied.

"Now I think Gallant is expecting you."

"Yea." I mock-cheered.

Three hours later I keyed the radio mic. "Console to Patrol, report."

Patrol 6 reporting. All's quiet on South Lord. Aegis' voice came over the speaker. His body cam feed showed he and Vista were standing on a corner just north of the Market. Friday night patrols were almost always in the Boardwalk and Lord Street Market areas. It made the tourists happy to see their child soldiers at work.

I pondered for the seventh time that week why the PRT bothered with console duty. Tying up one of their few capes sitting at a communications station was madness. It was a task that could be better handled by a non-powered professional. I knew this because SOP was to call the PRT Dispatch if there was any sort of action or emergency and they would take over,

I had asked all the other Wards, and no one knew the origin of the assignment. Miss Militia had been in the first group of Wards, and she had admitted that they did not have console duty back then. The best guess within the team was that it was the Youth Guard's fault somehow.

Having mentally beaten that dead horse again, I tried to find something else to think about while watching my 'teammates' watching tourists shopping.

Saturday, I decided to get out of the house early. I was not due back at the console until 4 p.m. I needed some new warm weather clothes. It was April and while still cool, I knew warmer temperatures were coming. The funny thing was I did not feel much effect from the ambient temperature, but I finally had a body worth showing and I wanted some clothes that highlighted that. So, I hopped a bus for Hillside Mall.

I was zoning out and did not notice when they got on, but Greg Veder and Sparky sat down next to me. Of course the seats around me were empty, though the bus was relatively crowded.

"Hey Taylor," Greg said, waving almost shyly. His sidekick just gave an up nod and settled in to watch mindlessly out the window.

"Greg," I replied.

"So … how's it feel to be one of the beautiful people?"

"What?" I almost gasped.

"Dude" Sparky muttered.

"I thought we were friends," Greg continued, his voice high and tight. I guessed he was as scared of me as everyone else, but felt he had something he needed to say.

I was pretty sure I did not want to hear it.

"I thought we were alike, two people shat upon by society and nature. Doomed to ignominy and abuse. Downtrodden. But at least we were in it together."

"Then you won the lottery and Pow! you were gone. It was like you forgot all about me, about us. You were off to the promised land of nice people and public acclaim – Arcadia and the Wards."

I almost laughed. More at the thought that I was surrounded by nice people than that Greg and I had ever been a 'we'.

He started to raise his voice. Other people were noticing. I'm sure I saw at least one phone pointed our way.

"But you forgot about us. You left us behind. You left me behind. Sure, Sophia and Emma were gone. But there are other monsters still roaming the halls and classrooms. And you left us to them." He stopped and stood as the bus pulled up to another stop. Sparky quickly scrambled to his feet behind him. Greg looked down on me and offered his final words. "I don't think I like you anymore."

Everyone watched as they got off. Then they all turned back to look at me.

Fuck my life.

I got off at the next stop. Summer wear could wait. I needed to figure out what that had been.

Greg and I had never been friends. Acquaintances that had both been social outcasts and often suffered similar abuse from both the teachers and students. But not friends. After hearing of the Trio's fates, I don't think I'd ever given Winslow another thought. Greg was right. I had left him and the rest of Winslow behind.

I'd moved on. Arcadia was definitely a better school, but I wasn't sure I was actually in a better place.

I didn't get any shopping done that day.

When I came home from yet more console duty Sunday night, Dad was moving around in his room. We had more or less stopped talking again. The silence between us had a different feel than it had before I triggered. It was less about loss and more about anger. I just wish he would listen to me for once.

I did not see him before I went to bed at midnight.

Two hours later the emergency alarm sounded, waking me out of a restless sleep. This was the alarm the PRT had installed when they put in the panic room and security system. Before I could figure out why it was blaring, something crashed into the house hard enough to shake the whole building. Less than a second later fire splashed against my window like it had come from a giant flame thrower.

Outside I saw motion. Several figures, only a few of them human, were moving in our yard.

I grabbed my mask and ran into Dad's room. Throwing open the door I saw he was just getting out of bed. I could smell the liquor on him. I grabbed him and threw him into the emergency hatch installed next to his closet. It was a chute that led down to the heavily fortified panic room.

I had just shut the hatch behind him when a massive form crashed through the window. Something large and scaly, wet and wriggling, twisted and kicked against the wall, launching itself back into the night.

I slammed on my mask and toggled it to night vision. Then I followed the giant form outside.

I landed in our driveway just as an thirteen-foot-tall scaled and tailed dragon snatched my father's truck off the pavement and tossed it at a giant lizard-rhino hybrid. He followed it with a blast of fire from his freakish X-shaped mouth at a cloud of darkness impenetrable to both IR and UV vision. It was not impenetrable to Lung's fire.

These people had picked the wrong day to mess with me. I really needed something to punch and now I had a surplus of options.

I leaped at Lung, not screaming to give away my attack. He tried to bat me out of the way, but I grabbed onto his hand. When my feet hit the cement, I had enough leverage to flip the swiftly shrinking dragon onto his back. I stepped on him and grabbed his other hand, wrenching it behind him as well.

"Nooo!" he cried, his face rapidly regaining his human features.

"Wrong house, wrong day, Lung. You're under arrest!"

While I looked for something to tie him up with, regretting having left my utility belt upstairs, I saw the Undersiders making their escape. Two of Hellhound's namesakes were limping, but that did not stop them from quickly racing out of sight with the villain team on their backs.

"Great," I muttered.

Not far away I noticed one of our downspouts had been knocked loose from the house. I pulled Lung, now fully human, towards it. Shifting my grip to grab both of his thumbs in one fist, I reached down to grab the aluminum tube.

"This should hold you," I said as I wrapped it around his hands and wrist like duct tape.

"Why are you here?" the ABB leader grunted as I tightened the makeshift manacle. "Why?"

"You fucked with the wrong house," I replied coldly.

"Fucking Tattletale, the man growled. "She knew. She must have led me here, hoping to involve you. She knew they could not stand against me. So, she ran to you."

"They say she's a smart girl."

Nemesis, report! Came the voice of Armsmaster over my mask comm.

"I've captured Lung, but the Undersiders got away," I replied, assuming he'd either been following the reports of what must have been a running battle from somewhere in ABB territory or he'd been watching the feed from my mask.

Repeat, he ordered.

"I have captured Lung."

You're not cleared for that sort of mission, he interrupted.

"It wasn't a mission. They attacked my house!" I yelled. People were starting to gather in the middle distance. Lights were going on all over the neighborhood.

Understood. On my way. ETA seven minutes. I thought I might had detected some hint of apology in his tone, but I could have imagined it.

Suddenly I thought of my dad. He should be ok. But that hellhound had hit the house while Dad might still have been sliding towards the bunker. I really wanted to check on him but couldn't just leave Lung out here. Nor could I risk taking him into the house and showing him all the security systems.

I waited a long seven minutes.

"Check on my dad," I said as soon as Armsmaster was off his cycle. "I'll keep Lung contained."

"Here – containment foam and brute manacles," The Protectorate leader handed me two items from his cycle then went into the house.

"I will pay you one million dollars if you release me. You can take your father and leave the city. If you do not release me, I promise that your father will not survive the week." Lung's tone was almost matter of fact. Bribes and death threats were all in a day's work for him.

I was tempted to shove the confoam grenade into his mouth and activate it. I had no idea if that would kill him, but it would certainly shut him up. Instead, I put the brute manacles on him. They covered most of his forearms, binding them together behind his back.

"You must hate your father to doom him to a horribly painful death this way."

I spun him to face me. We were almost the same height, until I grabbed his mouth and chin and lifted him off his feet.

"I've had a shitty couple of months. You and your playmates wrecking my house are just the cherry on the fucking sundae. If you want me to crush your jaw, just keep yapping. I'm in the mood for some mayhem, and so far, you haven't been the least bit of a challenge. You bore me."

I pulled him close, almost touching noses. "But if anything happens to my dad, I'm coming for you. If you're in the PRT cells, I have a key. If you're in the Birdcage, I'll tear apart your gang until they put me in there with you. Or I can just kill you now while you try to escape. That way I know my dad will be safe. Hmm, what should I do?"

I squeezed his jaw until I felt it start to bend.

"I think you should put him down," Armsmaster said from behind me.

I turned, still holding Lung at the breaking point. The Tinker hero was standing next to my dad, who was ruffled but uninjured.

Dad was looking at me with a mix of fear and concern in his eyes. "Taylor …"

"He offered me money to let him go and threatened to kill you if I didn't" I explained, still not moving my arm.

Lung began to release a gurgling whine.

"We can protect your father, Nemesis," Armsmaster assured me. "Let the prisoner go."

"Fuck it," I said, dropping the little dragon to the concrete. The Protectorate hero quickly popped a containment grenade over him, locking him in place.

"Dad, I think we may need to go back to the hotel. They real messed up your room."

"I think it might be best if you spend a few days on the Rig while our facilities people check you house, and the security features, for damage," the armored hero added, speaking to Dad. "It would also be safer for you."

He turned to me. "You're going to be on guard duty while we prepare Lung for transport."

That put me in the basement of the PRT building instead of with Dad on the Rig, but it made sense. Oni Lee was less likely to be able to break his boss out if I were keeping the big guy negated. I nodded as did Dad.

Inside I laughed bitterly. Now they wanted me.

[Interlude – PRT Director's Conference Room]

"I think we are about to lose her," Special Agent Howard reported. She had been asked to debrief Director Piggot on the progress of Taylor Hebert's counseling. Unlike in civilian life, PRT personnel receiving mandatory counseling were not assured confidentiality. Their superiors could request non-specific updates without special permission. Directors could also request a waiver from PRT Legal that allowed them access to the full case file. This was a full review.

Armsmaster was present by special permission. "We almost lost her last night. I have every reason to believe she was about to kill a prisoner."

"One that had made a credible threat on the life of her father," Howard countered. "Not a completely unjustified response."

"But one that might well have put her in the Birdcage," Director Piggot replied. "Lung aside, why do you say we're losing her?"

"Taylor feels completely isolated and unappreciated," Howard explained. "She feels strongly her punishment detail is unjustified and it simply reinforces her growing perception that she is being rejected by both the PRT and the Wards. While this may not be the reality, there have been enough instances of harassment and dismissal that her adolescent psyche has built a strong belief structure around these experiences."

"Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'm going to go eat worms?" Armsmaster murmured in a singsong.

"A dangerously dismissive oversimplification," Howard almost snapped. "But it has some validity. Her treatment by the PRT and the Wards has been objectively dismal. She's right that she's not fitting in."

"The Team Nemesis operation has proven successful several times in just a few months," the Director argued. "Even her solo capture last night of arguably the most dangerous villain in the city shows how useful she can be. How do we keep her onside?"

"At this point, I don't know that we can." Howard replied sadly.