CHAPTER THREE: New Threads
I felt like an abused barbie doll as my new teammates poked and prodded at me while discussing what cuts of fabric would most flatter my figure. Whether or not to use leather, what colors would best suit me, what overall design to go for. Everybody seemed to have a differing opinion. Amy seemed most interested in making me as edgy as possible, all black with a lot of leather, and I'd need to have a talk with her about just how skimpy some of her ideas were. Regent was getting strangely into it, as well, although he insisted on a chicken suit after my earlier encounter. An armored, black, evil chicken, sure, but no. Personally I would have settled for a banana yellow spandex bodysuit if it meant an end to this bizarre torture session. Talking over one another and shoving images on their phones into each other's faces, the chances of a coherent design emerging from this chaos was nil, and I'd rather not end up looking like a mismatched mannequin.
"The team colors are-"
"But we don't have a-"
"We can't do red! That's-"
"Her hair would work great with-"
"Regent, please put a shirt on-"
While Amy paid rapt attention to Mycroft's impromptu fashion seminar and Adam threw clothes at Alec, I snuck out from the center of the group and grabbed a clipboard and pen, plopping down in a beanbag chair to unleash the inner fashionista I desperately hoped was hiding deep inside me. Very, very deep inside me, I reflected, recalling with bitter longing the many clothes Amy had thrown out of my closet as though they offended her. Rachel was nearby, on the floor, with what must have been a new rescue dog on her lap, both looking equally disinterested in the goings-on and much more interested in the whole leg of turkey the girl had been keeping in her pocket, currently half-devoured. Start with the basics, Taylor. I needed a costume that could get me to be taken seriously. Something that suggested quality, not too loud or flashy, but all the same unique to me. Shoes were obviously out, which left me the options of sandals or going barefoot. Maybe something military, or armored? After all, the name I had chosen, Vanguard, was that of a soldier. An implacable force that carved its way forward, one step at a time. I began to form an idea, an image of my costume. No pants; with my leg structure, a skirt was the obvious choice, as I expected even further changes to come to my body. Laced sandals for my feet, perhaps.
"A dress could-"
"I've never seen her in a-"
"Regent, please put some pants on-"
"This breeze is-"
I was in the zone. Ideas came flying out of my pen, notes scribbled in margins for little features I had thought of. A two-part chest piece made of a sleeveless bodice and leather pauldrons around the neck. Asymmetry to the skirt, sloping down to the left, with a length down to my left knee and up to my right thigh, a shield-like tasset on the exposed leg. Greaves and knee guards, strapped over sandals fit to my weird feet. Full metal armor with gothic touches and a fingerless gauntlet on the right arm, a long silk glove on the left, with lacing along its outer edge. A thick shoulder-cape hanging off to the left, extending down to the hips and covering the left arm, with an attached close-fitted hood. And finally, a lower face mask, fitted to cover everything between my neck and nose, letting my eyes do their cool glowy thing from beneath the hood. Honestly, I was pretty damn proud of the whole ensemble for a ten-minute mockup. The combination of various eras of style appealed to me, a timeless ensemble, speaking of both a violent soldier and an elegant lady. A medieval knight, a Victorian lady, a cloak-and-dagger spy. My newly enhanced femininity had led me recently to appreciate the feminine clothing I could suddenly look good in. Dad always did place importance on his image. The thought sobered my good mood, but also left me feeling pleased, as though he approved of my choices so far.
"Mycroft, could you pass the-"
"Hey Vee, does this dress make my butt look-"
"Where's the bleach..."
The scrape of teeth on bone drew me out of my reverie. While Rachel was distracted by Alec's newfound appreciation of his inner woman, the little scrap of a dog she'd brought along had entirely demolished the turkey leg twice his size and was currently enjoying his leftovers. I stood up and walked back over to Amy, who looked as though the meaning of life, the universe, and everything had been revealed to her, and that meaning was fashion, as revealed by Mycroft. I patted her shoulder to bring her back to this plane of reality and raised my voice to cut over Alec boasting over his insultingly shapely posterior. "I've got it!" I proudly announced, which apparently was enough of a surprise to get everybody's attention. Taylor, making fashion choices on her own?! Yes, really, please contain your surprise and horror. I tore the two pages of mockups I'd made off the clipboard and held them up as proof of my heroic accomplishment. Mycroft and Adam wandered over to peer more closely at it, the former in a critical gaze and the latter with quiet approval. Amy looked back and forth between me and the drawing, struggling to comprehend how her fashion-blind big sister managed to design her own costume. "It's... well- I wanted it to be- that is, it's based on the name-" I grasped for some justification for the odd choices, the mash-up of styles, suddenly defensive over my creation. Oh god what if it's stupid and they hate it and-
Mycroft's eyebrows went up and she chuckled lightly to herself. "Oh jeez, girl, you're really overthinking this. No, yeah, it's a good design." She cast another inquisitive look across the drawings. "It's pretty, but not impractical. If I were you, I'd take this down to Parian's Dollhouse and see what she makes of it. It'll cost a pretty penny, but it's not like you can't afford it," she finished with a wink. I flushed with warmth at both her praise and getting caught for freaking out over such a minor thing.
While Rachel looked sullenly at her bare turkey leg (but couldn't seem to bring herself to blame the puppy), Adam and Alec returned into the fray, thankfully both fully clothed. Although I swear those are bra straps beneath that shirt... As opposed to Mycroft's lengthier appraisal, all I got from the male half of the crowd was a quick "Looks good!" before they left the room in pursuit of food now that the present festivities were seemingly concluded. Amy finally accepted that this was, in fact, reality and that the costume was indeed designed by me.
"Tay, this looks awesome! You're gonna look perfect in this. I think it could use more black leather, personally, but it's gonna look really cool anyways!" My blush ramped it up a notch at her gushing praise, and I looked forward to the day that pointless function of the human body was adapted out of me. "I need to head home and start making dinner, why don't you hang around a bit, maybe stop by Parian's on your way back?"
"Sure thing, see you back home." Giving Amy a hug goodbye, I committed myself to interacting with my new official teammates. As I headed for the lobby, however, Mycroft sashayed in front of me.
"So, Vanguard! Gotta shorten that somehow, just doesn't roll off the tongue."
"Just Taylor's fine, really."
"You're awfully open about who you are. Shouldn't you be more concerned about your identity?" Her tone was idly curious, but that challenging smirk never left her lips.
"I don't see the point, really. I'm already forced to be either a hermit or a full-time cape. Why bother concealing my real name when I don't have a regular life?" She nodded, like she'd expected that answer.
"You have a point. But what about Biohazard? You could at least pretend not to be her sister in public. Sure, she can take care of herself as a cape, but outing you as her sister poses some risks to her. Did you ever ask if she wanted to be a public cape?" I narrowed my eyes at her, tapping my talons on the floor.
"What is it you want, Mycroft?"
"Just Lisa's fine!" Her smirk briefly shifted into a pretty smile, and she stuck out her hand. "And maybe I just want to get to know my new teammates better."
"I don't believe you." Her hand hung in the air, and her smile twitched before she dropped it and her hand altogether.
"Fine, fine. You want honesty? I'd prefer some privacy, then." I raised my eyebrow but nodded my head towards the spare bedroom Amy and I used occasionally.
"Inviting me into your bedroom before buying me dinner? Gutsy," she winked. I choked down the blush rushing to my face, and tugged her by the wrist into the small room. She plopped down on the mattress and sighed appreciatively at its softness, while I leaned against the door, arms crossed. "I was being truthful, you know. I want to get to know you better."
"Why?" She sighed, and pouted at me. I tried to ignore how that made her lips perfectly plump out.
"Why wouldn't I? You are my teammate now. Maybe I'm just the friendly type." I snorted disbelievingly.
"Amy described you as nosy and abrasive. I happen to agree on both points."
"Ouch," she winced. "Can't say you're wrong, though. Funny thing is, I can't really remember if I was like this before my trigger or not. I like to think it's the constant stream of dirty secrets into my brain that makes me a bitch." She blew air through her nose before continuing. "That's actually why I wanted to talk to you. I can't... read you like everybody else. Haven't had to do this 'getting to know you' thing in a long time, now."
"And your best idea for getting to know me was grilling me on my identity?"
"Okay, so I'm a bit rusty! Not my fault."
"Fine. What do you want to know?"
"Oh come on, this isn't an interrogation!" She threw up her hands in frustration. "Can't we just do this like normal people?"
"You're a teenage girl with a handgun and purple spandex, alone in a bedroom with a human-velociraptor hybrid trying to make friends. Nothing about this situation says normal people are involved."
"Quit being so difficult when I'm trying to make friends without using superpowers as a social crutch!" I sighed, uncrossing my arms and sat next to her.
"Fine. Let's just... try this again." I held out my hand to her. "Hi, I'm Taylor. I'm an evil villain working for my gang-leading sister, and I'm in the process of turning into a giant bird. I like hot tea, running, and cute girls." Lisa broke into a smile and gripped my hand between both of hers.
"Hi, I'm Lisa! A down-on-her-luck accidental criminal press-ganged by an evil teenage girl into her hive of scum and villainy. I like coffee, mystery books, and trolling strangers on PHO." I laughed, and tapped her leg with my foot.
"Press-ganged, huh? Accidental criminal?"
"That's certainly what I'll tell the judge!" She laughed with me, and it was a pretty, carefree sound. "So, friends now?"
"Is that how it works?"
"I was kind of hoping you'd know," she admitted, looking as confused as I felt. "Haven't done this in... ever. Let's just roll with it."
"So... what do friends do?"
"What, you've never had friends before?"
"I've had friends!" I wracked my brain for a name. "I have... Amy!"
"She doesn't count!" Lisa crowed, rocking back in laughter. "She's like, chemically programmed to be your best friend. One friend who isn't enslaved by biology. Come on!"
"...fine, I'm friendless!" I threw up my hands in defeat.
"Not any more, you're not!" She threw an arm around my shoulder, though our height difference quickly led to her settling for hooking it around my arm instead. "I do know one think teenage girls everywhere are hardwired to enjoy. Come on!" Lisa jumped off the bed, trying to drag me behind her.
"Where are we going?!" I gave some token resistance, but ended up running along behind her as she flew through the door.
"Shopping!" Oh, shit. By the time I tried to dig in my feet, it was too late: Lisa moved like a woman possessed. Alexandria herself couldn't have resisted her strength.
