"T'o-Ba'sall have you seen my special egg anywhere?"
T'o-Ba'sall looks at Arry, "What special egg?"
"I didn't want to leave you alone if someone managed to kill me. So, I laid a special queen egg with all of our ancestral memories and the abilities we've gathered. It took me a week to plan it out, and a day to lay it over the Christmas holidays. Anyway, I left it in this locker so that nobody could accidentally activate it."
"I can't say I've seen anything touch that locker."
"Damn it!"
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Half a turn around the galaxy, and several dimensions to the orthogonal, a 15 year old girl is trapped in a locker, when the space becomes that much more cramped.
Taylor panics as something appears between her legs, forcing them uncomfortably into the corners of her locker. Any hope of getting out of the locker herself is dashed by this single thing.
"Fuck you, and fuck your friends too!" – Tears stream down her eyes as she bashes her fist against the back wall of the locker – "Fuck you and your friends you betraying bitch. I hope they pin my murder on you and you go to jail forever."
Somewhere, she finds the energy to scream one more time as something crawls up her body and then her screams are silenced for a good long time. By the time the Janitor uses bolt cutters to open the locker and pull Taylor's unconscious body out, the egg and the face hugger have both broken down and melted through the floor of the locker and the concrete floor beneath it. Which is unfortunate for the PRT, who are called in to investigate but can't say anything more than it was very strong acid, and the girl is lucky to not have suffered any burns from contact or inhalation of the fumes. While she's unconscious, she undergoes an MRI to see if she's triggered, but all they find is some swelling in her brain from where she bashed her head against the inside of the locker repeatedly.
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Taylor looks at the kitchen clock and reluctantly tuns off the TV and puts her dirty plate in the sink for later. An hour really isn't long enough for lunch. Palming her forehead, she snaps her fingers and her washing up is done and put away. Nodding to herself she invisibly pops back to the girls loo and checks that the door is still locked, which it is. She also can't hear anyone in the toilets, or just outside. Dropping her invisibility, she saunters out of the bathroom feeling nicely relaxed after having a bully free lunch at home. Her grades are also starting to climb again, as it's very difficult for the trio to steal the homework she's left on her desk at home. Ducking back she snaps her fingers to style her hair, before leaning against a wall. A few seconds later Sophia stalks past, anger clearly indicated by her footsteps and the heat radiating off of her face.
A few minutes later, Taylor's walking into world studies and, seeing Madison's smirk, she checks her chair, glue, how juvenile. A discrete snap of her fingers in her bag and the chair is clean. A second snap and her textbook is in her hand, along with a script for a Tom and Jerry cartoon she wrote out one night last week, just to see if she could with her new powers.
"Good afternoon class."
"Good afternoon Mr Gladly" they all call back.
"I want you all to split into groups of four, you have 5 minutes to decide on a Hero and write it down."
Taylor sighs as every one groups up so fast she's left with Greg and Sparky.
"What do you two think? Mouse Protector?"
Greg narrows his eyebrows, "Why her?"
"She's one of very few nationally famous independent heroes."
Greg nods, "Sparky?"
Sparky just nods along to whatever he's got playing on his headphones. It sounds like Queen or a cover of one of their songs. Writing the name down on a scrap of paper, she hands it to Mr Gladly. As she gets back to her seat Julia comes into the class 5 minutes late.
"Julia, nice of you to join us. You're with Taylor, Greg, and Sparky."
"Can't I sit with Madison?"
"Their group is full. You're with Taylor."
"Madison, I'm sorry you need to pick another Hero, Mouse protector is already taken. I want you to talk about how your chosen hero has shaped the way that parahumans are viewed."
As Taylor is 'rooting' around in her bag for her notebook and pen, Greg says, "Hey, Taylor. Is this your homework? Do you mind if I have a look?"
Taylor looks up as Julia neatly takes the homework out of Greg's hands, and passes it over to Madison.
Greg just looks at her apologetically, "Sorry."
Madison quickly erases her name, and stands up to hand it in as her own work. As Madison gets out of earshot, Taylor throws Greg a bone, "No, it's fine. I just wrote out the script for a Tom and Jerry cartoon, and I wanted to see what you thought of it. Having said that, I should probably hand in my own homework now."
After handing in her own homework, Taylor goes on to do the group work on her own. Greg only wants to talk about his latest games or shows, Sparky was lost in his music as always, and Julia spent the lesson gossiping. She grimaces slightly as Vivian's memories point out that Greg and Sparky are probably just as traumatised as she is, and deal with it in their own ways.
When the discussion period ends, Taylor stands up as soon as Mr Gladly calls for volunteers to give their class discussion. With the confidence of multiple adults and Yautja in her head, she gives a speech outlining how, as an independent hero, Mouse protector has shown that, not only is it possible for Parahumans to operate as heroes outside of the PRT, but also that having a theme can make all the difference between being seeing as a vigilante and a hero. As she returns to her own seat, she muses that there's not a lot she can do to make her own theme more palatable to the general public. Especially given that it's becoming apparent that she's becoming like a Case 53.
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When the bell goes, Taylor is one of the first packed and, just as she's about to leave, Mr Gladly calls her over.
"Taylor, I can see that you're having problems. If you want help, come and see me and we'll take it to the Principal."
Taylor looks into his eyes, "Mr Gladly, I'm starting to wonder if you, along with most of the other teachers here, actually have a teaching degree. What ever happened to 'See something say something'? You expect me, the victim, to stick my neck out on the off chance that history won't repeat itself? Or that if my bullies actually do get punished, it will be with permanent removal from the school? Or how about that I will be assigned to another, better school? How many of you walked past my locker in January and did Nothing? No, I think I'm better off not relying on the professionalism of the teachers and staff here. Good afternoon, Mr, Gladly."
As she walks out, Taylor thinks to herself, 'I really shouldn't have done that'. Right outside the door, Emma and her posse are waiting for her. Obviously her little chat with Mr Gladly gave them time to gather.
Not seeing any way to get past them without looking like the instigator, Taylor reluctantly allows them to force her into a corner.
[An: conversation is from Worm chapter 2.04] "Nobody likes her. Nobody wants her here," Julia said.
"Such a loser. She didn't even turn in the major project for art, last Friday," Sophia responded. This is the first time that Taylor has to supress a laugh, as she handed it in the day before during one of the breaks.
"If she's not going to try, then why is she even coming to school?"
"Ugliest girl in our grade."
"What does she use to wash her face? A Brillo pad?"
"She should! She'd look better!"
"Never talks to anybody. Maybe she knows she sounds like a retard and keeps her mouth shut."
"No, she's not that smart."
Taylor looks over their heads and has to force herself not to give an ironic smile as Mr Gladly comes out of the classroom carrying a stack of folders, turns around and locks the door. She does, however, raise an eyebrow and, when he looks her in the eyes, looks pointedly at the girls around her. Giving her a sad look, he just clutches his folders to his chest and shuffles past without saying a word.
"So glad we don't have gym with her. Can you imagine seeing her in the locker room? Gag me with a spoon."
"You should have seen her group fail in class just now. It was painful to watch."
Taylor can't help it, she giggles when Madison says that. After all, her group got the highest score out of all the groups in that class.
Emma gives her a poisonous look, "Is something amusing?"
"Oh, very. Madison's comment has just made it clear that I'm getting to hear your groups juicy gossip. After all, you couldn't be talking about the group that Julia and I were part of. Especially given we got the highest score in the class today. Isn't that right Julia."
There's a couple of chuckles from the onlookers, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to get to my next class."
Very carefully, Taylor weaves her way through the girls with the aid of a very weak elf notice-me-not effect. As she's walking away she looks back over her shoulder, "Oh, and Emma. That hairstyle did look good on you. I'm sorry that something happened to force you to adopt it, but that doesn't change the fact it was a complement."
As Emma goes white, Taylor walks away to the closest girls Loo. Once she's sure it's empty, she pops over to the loo closest to her math class and, after walking there, takes her seat at the front.
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After school ends, Taylor's only left with the trivial task of dodging her tail long enough to pop home. The hardest part of the exercise is doing it from somewhere in the school that she could have gone anywhere. Once home she heads down to the basement, where she has a few eggs laid, and her current attempts at wand crafting are laid out on the old workbench. She carefully doesn't look in the corner, where she's covered that thing with an old tarp.
Grimacing, she looks at the eggs, she woke up this morning in the basement to find that thing there, and the eggs laid, loosely arrayed around it. She's been forcing herself not to think about the implications of that fact all day. However, quickly checking over each of the eggs, she's satisfied that none of them are the deadly type. With that done, and still having saved an hour on the bus ride home, she decides to cook something from scratch for dinner. Though, it proves to be a challenge to come up with something that uses the small amount of meat in the house, or that doesn't undercook said meat. What she wouldn't give for a fresh acromantula. Maybe tonight she should head out and get some fresh lobsters. Her mouth waters at the thought of cracking through their shells with her teeth and sucking out the juicy flesh. Pushing the thought to one side, she finishes the prep and sets the dish to cook slowly while she heads back downstairs, to try and make herself a workable wand. It doesn't have to be super brilliant, just good enough that she can do basic charms and transfiguration with it.
The sound of her fathers truck pulls her out of her work, and she heads upstairs to start peeling potatoes for mash.
"Hey Taylor, that smells lovely."
"Thanks Dad, the buses were quick so I thought I'd do something a bit nicer than our usual fare."
Dinner passes with its normal, quiet small talk, where neither of them directly asks the other about their problems, and they then ignore the implied questions, because it's easier than actually talking about their feelings. With that thought Taylor silently curses Vivian, and starts pushing her peas around her plate for a few minutes before she gets up abruptly, and takes her plate to the kitchen.
"I'm going upstairs to do some homework."
"Ok."
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Taylor listens as her Father does the washing up, then puts on the TV. The tell-tale hiss of a can of beer quickly follows the familiar creak of his armchair. Finishing her homework quickly, she heads to bed for an early night, hoping that the extra sleep will make up for the nightmares of hunting and being hunted in forests.
A few hours later, her Father's snores wake her, and she carefully pushes the blankets off the bed, being careful not to catch them on her claws or tail. Looking down at her body, she knows she's not ready to accept this part of her yet. So Queenie carefully opens the sash window in her bedroom, and slips out into the night. Her task is to find somewhere suitable to set up her hive, and also get some lobsters. On second thoughts, let's get the lobster first.
Rather than popping to the coast, she takes to the roofs and enjoys the shear thrill of leaping from shadow to shadow, rooftop to rooftop, all absolutely silently, and without using any of her magical abilities. Once she gets to the docks, the buildings turn into derelict factories, and she spends half an hour or so just playing amongst the buildings, jumping from girder, to roof, to chimney. Even through windows, along the ceilings and walls. Eventually, she makes a game of kissing the foreheads of the sleeping homeless that occasionally find refuge in these places.
As Queenie finally slips into the water with nary a ripple, she wonders if they would thank or curse her if she brought them into her hive. It would be nearly midnight when she finally climbed ashore again, satiated for the moment and having enjoyed playing evade the sonar and electro sensitive sensors littered through the bay. Looking down at the two lobsters she's holding, she looks at her claws and decides she doesn't want to learn how to click them right now. So she pops home and fills the kitchen sink with some cold water before putting both lobsters in it.
Returning to her previous location she starts looking for an appropriate place to set up her nest.
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It's nearing midnight when she hears a car engine switch off, and a car door slam. As she focuses her attention in that direction, a man's voice becomes distinct from the background noise. "…the children, just shoot. Doesn't matter your aim, just shoot. You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the little bitch twice more to be sure. We give them no chances to be clever or lucky, understand?"
Some part of her ancestral memories reacts, and she's suddenly crying in a crib as a woman with red hair dies trying to protect her. Standing in a hive on a planet gently pulling resin away from a small child with 4 arms, and using her psychic abilities to kill the xenomorph growing inside it. Pulling another child, this one looks like a spider, from another hive. Of finding a child in the street looking for a new mother. Of multiple Yautja sent against her far too young, and those she can, being saved and adopted into her hive.
Taylor agrees with her alter-ego, children need to be protected. With her tail lashing around angrily, she takes to the roofs, this time not even bothering to be stealthy. When she arrives at the location she heard the voice, she can see that there are 20 or 30 members of the Azn Bad Boys fanning out down the street and alleyways. Leading them is a shirtless giant of a man wearing an ornate metal mask.
Taylor doesn't remember much after that point, only vague snatches of killing the gangers in silent and efficient ways, followed by lots of fire and then thinking that the earth looks pretty from here.
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On a rooftop nearby, four teenagers watch as Lung and a black monstrous cape battle it out a block down the road. Grue, a tall young man wearing a black motorcycle helmet with a white skull painted on the front, looks over at Tattletale, who is shivering violently in her skin-tight lavender costume.
"Tats are you alright?"
Tattletale snaps back, "What do you think? The rage dragon is currently fighting an unknown cape, and they aren't losing. His fire seems to be having absolutely no effect on it, and I have no idea what it is. My power is telling me that it is built to kill quickly, efficiently, and silently. If it knew we were here, we'd be next."
Regent pokes her in the ribs, "So why are we lying here?"
"Because it's currently preoccupied with Lung, and if we try to escape it might hear us and decide we're an easier meal than he is."
"Fuck."
As they watch, Lung bites into its back before recoiling in agony, Tattletale then adds, "And it has acid for blood, strong enough acid to hurt Lung when he's starting to grow wings."
After a few more minutes, Lung is starting to get a clear advantage over the monster, when it stabs its tail straight through his chest. With him unable to escape, they both immolate in a massive gout of fire, leaving nothing left apart from the collateral damage from the fight.
All four of them just stare at that spot for a few minutes until the soft purr of a motorcycle engine becomes apparent.
"That's Armsmaster, we need to leave."