Chapter 2 - Treading Water
Taylor
"So Dad, mind telling me how you managed to set up this meeting again?"
Taylor wasn't upset, even if she was a little frustrated, but mostly she was kind of impressed. It had taken all of twenty minutes of them chatting for her father to come up with a rather detailed plan. The caveat being that she had expected it to take weeks for him to set up some kind of meeting to speak with a sponsor. Though, admittedly, this wasn't a sponsor themselves, but….
"Well, I opened up the phone book, went to the yellow pages, got her number and called."
"Uh huh." She was impressed, not that impressed. "Sure. That's totally everything to it."
Her father chuckled, double checking the street sign before turning down a small side street and popping out over onto another road and bypassing a small fender bender a few cars up.
"To be honest kiddo, it's purely political." Shrugging, the middle aged man managed to express ambivalence, disgust, and approval at once. "The simple fact of the manner is that the DWU doesn't hold territory and it's not a gang, but someone like the young woman we're going to visit lives and dies on her reputation. Being rude to me could get around."
"So she's taking the meeting out of politeness?"
Even if her tone was polite, it was clear that the younger Hebert was a bit incredulous.
"And why wouldn't it be? Remember, being a sponsored cape means you need to be about as obsessed with PR as the 'PR'T is."
Groaning, the teenager took rather terrible damage from the brutal dad joke.
Danny just had a chuckle.
"I'm serious kiddo. While I'm hardly important, the DWU is, even if it's just on a city level. And she has to always think about politics with every choice she makes. Even just what parts of the city she wants to do shows in can cause problems."
Sighing, the young woman took the words to heart.
"I gotcha. I just… well, you know, more drama with the Wards sounds like everything I went through before."
Nodding, her father immediately replied.
"And I will, under no circumstances, force you to do anything you don't want to. However, that doesn't mean I'm not going to do everything I can to clear up any misconceptions you might have. Especially about how things like paper work, politics, and regulations impacting an independent hero might work."
Shaking her head, the teen had to make it clear where she stood.
"To be honest, I understand what you're saying. And, well, I'm trying to say that I can't, well, it's not that I don't, it's that I want-"
Taking a hand off the wheel, Danny reached over and took Taylor's hand. Squeezing gently, he nodded.
"Yeah. You want to be able to trust the people around you. To not have to wait for the knife in your back." Deflating a little, he only took his hand away when he had to turn again. "Listen, kiddo, just go in with an open mind. I'll wait out here and you go speak with the nice lady."
Swallowing, the black haired girl licked her lips, wished she'd brought her robes, and made her decision.
"Thank you daddy." Hugging her father's neck, she hopped out of the red truck, the two having come to a stop outside of an oddly shaped clothing shop with ornately decorated mannequins in the front, and steeled her spine. "Ok. Let's meet Parian!"
She hoped she sounded half as confident.
Dealing with people was… hard.
With customers it was simple. She had to demand a price, show that her merchandise worked, and then make sure they knew how to use it. This was Brockton Bay after all, there was always a chance they would try to smoke or shoot her Rubedo. Both were things she hadn't tested and Taylor did not want to waste hours of hard work - in the best case scenario - and painstakingly gathered ingredients. Because money did not completely make up for her lack of refined production method.
Taylor felt like she had regressed to before the industrial age.
Everything she did was handmade.
It wasn't like she had a machine that made her creations. She had to always be present, always working, aware and attentive to the process. It was, in many ways, like cooking. Only she couldn't afford to let things simmer for nearly as long.
Truthfully she missed her lab already.
It was easy.
Taylor knew what to expect even when messing around with her super whimsical powers. Even when to expect the explosions and how long she had to duck for cover if she wanted to avoid singing her hair.
Mostly.
Except, the problem was that people weren't predictable.
You couldn't tell what their intentions were.
Unlike her formulas, which either worked or blew up, the would be alchemist could follow all the right actions when dealing with people and they would still stab her in the back. Just like Emma had despite them being friends since they were toddlers.
All for what?
She didn't know, and didn't care to find out.
She never wanted to deal with anyone ever again. Besides her dad, that is.
Because dad had proven he wasn't just using her to make a profit like she feared. Hadn't sold her out to the PRT when she built up the courage to tell him about her powers. Had gone above and beyond her expectations in making sure she had everything she could possibly need to work.
To actually save lives.
Distrustful as she might be, even Taylor knew that some people needed help.
And she wasn't going to step aside when they were suffering. When they looked at their loved ones knowing nothing could save them from slowly withering on the inside as death edged closer and closer.
They didn't deserve that.
So she would help.
Only… she didn't want to do it forever.
It was silly and selfish, but Taylor wanted to be a hero who could go out there and actually help fight against evildoers - even if they were armor wearing nutjobs or literal rage dragons. She wanted to finally get rid of them.
For Brockton Bay.
For the little people.
For herself.
"Miss?"
Jumping, the young woman spun around to see a masked, victorian costumed cape standing in the front entrance of the shop.
"Are you ok? You've been standing there for a few minutes and I thought you might need help."
"Oh, I, well, I'm Taylor." Blushing, the teenager shook her head. "Taylor Hebert. My father set up an appointment for me. If that's ok, I mean."
Suddenly very unsure, the itch to flee to her lab was growing in intensity. In truth, all it took was the flash of wariness in the masked woman's eyes and the youngest Hebert was ready to bolt. Turning back to her father, she saw him sitting in his truck and reading a paperback. Looking up, he waved at her and gestured for her to go into the store with the cape.
"Is that Mr. Hebert?"
Parian, because that's who she obviously was, stepped out of the store, even though she still held the door open, and looked at the elder Hebert, still happily reading away.
"Yeah. That's Dad. He, um, wanted me to speak with you. About you know ..."
"I do." Nodding, Parian turned around and gestured to the interior of her store. "If you would, Ms. Hebert."
Swallowing, Taylor took the invitation, still nothing more than a great bundle of nerves. Somehow stepping inside actually managed to ratchet things up a bit. While the ground floor of the shop was just that, a relatively normal shop, there were literally hundreds of stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling. Bears, dogs, cats, even what she thought might have been a full sized capybara. And she knew what Parian's power did.
What these things represented.
"So, how would you like to do this?"
The words were soft, polite, and spoken as she turned the sign on the door from open to closed.
"After all, assuming you are a parahuman, you've practically outed yourself to me. I assume this is more than your father humoring a childish game?"
While the tone hadn't changed, it was clear the young woman opposite her was wary of Taylor. Wary of being jerked around and wary of being taken advantage of and even wary of being ambushed.
"I get it. Um, let me see-" Patting down her hoodie's pockets, she found what she was looking for. "Mind if I use a knife real quick?"
Shaking her head, the other woman didn't say anything and Taylor pretended not to notice how every ruffle of fabric in the room turned to face her. Taking out her penknife, she brought it up to the same thumb she'd been using to display her potion's effect to her clients - something which had launched an internal debate about the sense involved in regularly mutilating one's self to establish one's reputation - and pricked it.
Waiting for the blood to well up, she replaced her knife with a vial of her concoction, pulled the stopper out with her teeth, and took the smallest sip possible.
The cut immediately sizzled shut.
For some reason, her rubedo always worked better with her than with everyone else? Maybe some kind of inherent property of her body? Maybe just because it was her power?
She wasn't sure, but, replacing the stopper and putting the vial back in her hoodie gave Taylor enough time to appreciate the mild awe coming over the face of the other woman.
"Oh." Parian stared, obviously thrown off kilter by what she had just seen.
"Yeah… sorry, didn't wanna spook you or anything."
"You're a healer then, like Panacea?"
Taylor dearly wanted to correct her. Her powers could so much more than just heal people. Every stage of her Magnum Opus had its own effect, every part of her concoctions could do something new when adjusted, and this was just the main potion she had figured out. Taylor had hundreds of possible tools at her pricked fingertips, she just had to figure out a way to use them.
"Basically, yeah. I make stuff that heals, solutions. It's been… not easy… but I kept out of public sight for now. 'Specially since I think being a tinker means I can do other stuff too."
The younger cape nodded.
"Good choice. That stuff alone is probably worth its weight in gold."
Or five hundred bucks for a small flask.
Not that Taylor would say it. Even she knew not to tattle on her prices.
"Probably. But I can't make much and I need to upgrade my equipment if I want to make enough to actually sell. Never mind the amount of damage I can cause to my own gear when I actually stretch my legs."
"The PRT is out then. They either treat Tinkers like living gods or use them like a hammer to a knee cap. Someone like you, they'd give you a budget, a lab, and supervise every second of your life for fear you'd make something that could topple them." Pausing, it was clear that Parian took a second to calm down. "You should have seen the contract they tried to slap me with when I first hit the scene. And if your power is even half as versatile as I think you just implied it was, well, they wouldn't be so generous."
That sounded… about what she expected.
Which was terribly depressing, but still, good to know she was right to worry.
"I don't want to unmask either. I don't even have a secret identity… so if I went to New Wave… I'd never have a chance to." Never mind the fact she would never have a day off for the rest of her life, forced to work tirelessly to fulfill some demand or another from people who knew where she lived.
Taylor wanted to help.
But she wasn't like Panacea.
She didn't want to become a glorified nurse.
"Anonymity is important. You want to work for the things you want, but you don't want it to be the only thing you're working for." The older girl sighed. "The problem is, you're asking for a lot kid. One or the other, that's easy, but both means some kind of major backing. And finding a backer that won't put strings on you is even harder."
Finally, someone who spoke the same language as her.
"The stuff I make is great. But I don't make enough to buy more gear off the black market or from Toybox. And nobody would sell equipment to a random girl in civvies. They'd figure me out right away."
"Which brings you here."
"Which brings me here."
Parian looked her up and down, measuring her up in all sorts of ways. The girl was a miracle worker when it came to clothes, or so Taylor heard.
"I'm not sure I understand what you expect out of this meeting, Ms. Hebert. I don't have the ability to sponsor someone else and as versatile and useful as your powers are, I don't have the connections to purchase the equipment you are in need of."
Taylor let out a silent breath.
Well, that was one possible avenue shot down.
"But you do know how to get sponsored. Isn't there a way I could get in touch with someone without risking my identity? You are doing pretty well."
Parian shuffled awkwardly. Obviously wanting to say something.
"Ms. Hebert… I work with cloth. Simple cloth. I have used equipment like sewing machines in the past, but my skill set is exceedingly versatile in that all I needed was the space and security to work. You need more than that."
She wanted to refute the smaller girl.
She wanted to say something… anything… to prove her wrong.
But couldn't.
Because she needed time to explore her powers.
She needed the right equipment to build a proper lab instead of using scraps gathered from garage sales and pawn shops. No matter how hard she scrimped and saved, those "assets" never would be able to measure up to the real thing.
She needed space that was not limited to her house or a storage unit anyone with a phone and internet connection could find and trace back to her name. Security from people who would stop at nothing to get their hands on the woman who made miracle drugs that could fight off the worst ailments known to mankind.
And in the future… put a stopper to death.
Because Taylor knew what her potions meant. Knew what she was doing when she said her work was toward a Magnum Opus. The sheer weight of the fact that maybe, one day, she could end Death itself was such a staggering blow that her development of something approaching alkahest had taken thirty minutes to get to her. And that was two weeks ago.
It would be a lie to say she wasn't still brooding on the possibility of the elixir of life.
"Look, all I'm saying is that I want a chance. Just… a chance. Can you at least give me some advice? Walk me through the basics so I know, really know, who not to piss off."
Parian sighed.
"I dunno what I could tell you that you already don't know. You're a Brockton native, yeah?"
"Born and raised."
"Then I don't need to warn you about the Dragon and the Nazis. That stuff everyone knows to steer clear away from."
"I don't think I need to worry about that. It's not like I'm planning on going out and fighting them yet, you know?"
"And that's the kinda thinking that gets you screwed over."
Taylor blinked, stepping back as the younger teenager rounded on her.
"You've gotta look at this from the right perspective. Not how a normal person sees the world and gangs and the city." Pausing, the shorter woman took another deep breath and visibly calmed herself. "The thing is, they've got more than just a few cops on the take. All of the gangs have informants and snitchs and spies. Whether it's homeless guys who report on who did what for a few bucks or people who make their living on watching others and trawling through business filings at city hall, all of the gangs live and die based on knowing everything." Shrugging, the doll masked woman turned away. "I was caught in less than a month because they noticed I filed a notice of use of parahuman powers for commercial purposes. And I know because that's how the E-88 thugs that showed up at my door politely explained what happens to girls like me in a city like this."
A month?
Not even two?
Taylor's reaction must have been obvious because the cape simply nodded and continued.
"Yeah, it turns out that people talk. Or they steal info. Or someone leaks it to make a quick buck. I was lucky because I already had a sponsor lined up and plenty of creations to fight with. Do you have anything like that?"
"You know I don't." She felt a flash of embarrassment over that fact too. After all, weren't Tinkers always supposed to have an ace up their sleeve?
"Well, how long have you been doing this whole shady tinkertech drug dealing thing?" Parian seemed genuinely frustrated when she spoke. "Because I don't think you grasp how suspect something like that makes you look."
'Rude.' Taylor frowned.
She wasn't shady.
"It's been… two months since I did my first sale. But only to people from a very small group."
"Well, congratulations, someone must already know about it."
"My father trusts them."
Parian sniffed.
"Well, do they trust other people? Do they trust public healthcare? Do they trust the police? You can't be sure that they are keeping quiet. You can't be sure that you aren't leaving a trail. I know I did and I was way better prepared. So tell me, if it's been months and nobody came knocking, what does that mean?"
"That they don't know where I live?"
"Or that someone is keeping them off your trail for you. So they can be the ones to snatch you up. Never assume people have good intentions, not when you have the power you do. And most certainly not in this line of work."
Shrinking in on herself, Taylor couldn't help the hurt that flashed through her. Right now she felt like she was an idiot, thinking that she should even bother with any of this. But worst of all was that it felt like she was right back where she started. Just a gangly, plain girl getting cut down to size by someone smarter, stronger, and prettier than she could ever hope to be. Even her powers just seemed to cause trouble.
"Oh, crap, I'm sorry. Please don't cry!"
"I'm not going to cry!" Taylor snapped back, even with how her eyes seemed to sting. "I'm just… fuck it. I knew coming here was a waste of time. I'll just go sign up with the Wards."
Swearing under her breath, Parian held up her hands and tried to crank down the tension.
"Look, I wasn't trying to scare you-"
"That's a lie." Taylor interrupted with a snort. "And we both know it."
Shrugging, the other girl, the one who at this very moment could probably crush her, simply took a deep breath and pushed ahead.
"But the important thing is that you know how all of this works. The amount of effort it takes just to get one of my shows approved, never mind the amount of crap the gangs give me. And here's the kicker - my power isn't worth anything compared to yours. Healers, of any kind, even ones with nasty drawbacks are both rare and valuable." Making a show of calling down several dozen writhing bolts of cloth and even a few of the smaller stuffed animals, the young woman had the constructs twist about her and settle into a slow, crude orbit. "This is what I can do. Play with dolls. It's enough that I can keep assholes off my back and make an ok living, but nowhere near enough to be worth the cost of capturing and breaking me."
Nodding, the younger, taller teen agreed, letting the anger slip away from her.
"Yeah. I get what you're saying. But if it's so hopeless, if I'm already screwed, what should I do? Assuming there is something I could do."
Slumping a little herself, Parian waved her hand and sent one of the stuffed toys over to the other girl.
"Try, I suppose. Find a company big enough that they have a little political power, but not so big that they're a target or in bed with people that make most gangs look like school children."
Opening the door to her shop, Parian made it clear the conversation was over.
"Thanks. For the toy and the talk." Taylor was down again, beaten, but not really anything but tired.
"Listen, I'll keep your secrets. But if you are a Tinker, make yourself a weapon - a real nasty one - and soon. If you can protect yourself, at least folks might think twice before trying something."
Nodding, the younger girl of the two moved on, throwing a final "thanks" over her shoulder as she returned to the truck where her father was waiting - still reading - and climbed in.
Danny
"I take it things didn't go well?"
Taylor made a noise.
"I like the stuffed shark."
Taylor made another noise.
"That bad huh?"
This time she managed a nod.
"Wanna get some ice cream?"
Another nod.
"Can you use words kiddo?"
Danny's tone was patient, almost indulgent, and it was clear that he had expected, prepared for this outcome. And it was even more clear that he genuinely felt bad for what his daughter was going through. Ruffling her hair, he gave his Little Owl a one armed hug and then cranked his truck. Pulling out of the shop, he even waved at the young woman he saw watching them with no small amount of trepidation.
Because he also knew what meeting with them meant.
What it would be taken to mean to the people who watched both the independent cape and those who he suspected would soon be watching his daughter.
Parian, he suspected, was at least a little paranoid. Not a bad thing considering what she was, where she lived, and what she wanted. But his daughter was the smallest of the small time. And it was genuinely unlikely that anything more than unconfirmed rumors had spread about who she was. Event that would be more focused on her nature as his daughter.
Something he chose not to mention.
Because as his daughter began to slowly come out of her sulk, he knew she would rally.
And when she did, she would do what all teenagers did: rebel.
Perhaps against him, perhaps against the system itself, but Danny knew that she would do exactly what her mother would do. Which would be something brave and foolish in equal measure. When that time came, he wanted his child sufficiently prepared that she could abrogate the worst of the consequences.
'Perhaps that's not the right term. No, consequences are good. Necessary.'
Turning off the truck, he raised an eyebrow.
"Is mister shark going to come get ice cream with us?"
Taylor huffed and there the plush toy at him. Danny just chuckled and made sure to lock the door once they were out. Holding the door open for his daughter, his sweet, sulking child, he took a good long look down the street in both directions.
Just in time to notice a small blue car meander down the road.
The same blue car he'd kept an eye on while his child had gone in to speak with Parian.
All of a sudden he felt his gut twist.
'At least I didn't throw out the forty five.'
"Are you coming dad?"
Taylor gave him a look like he was crazy for standing in an open doorway.
"Yeah sweety, just thought I saw someone I knew."
She rolled her eyes.
"You can catch up with them later. Ice cream first."
Chuckling again, he nodded.
"Yeah. Ice cream first."
