AN: Alvor here this time. Let me apologize to Azazelicko and you guys for this. We've been behind on getting stuff posted so maybe you guys still like this. Anyways, hope you enjoy the double post today and have fun with what we've got.

Wyvern: As always, we'd like to thank Azazelicko for his continued patronage and hope that you will continue to enjoy the misadventures of Taylor Hebert and the Philosopher's Stone.


Sink or Swim - Chapter 3


Taylor Hebert


Her palm was sweaty. That was the easy thing to focus on. Not the smooth grip of the Hebert's landline, not the dial tone that was gentle enough not to be grating, but still ominous to feel like someone was walking over her grave.

Even worse was how her father was just… sitting over there.

Tight lipped, straight backed, very clearly trying not to look worried, Daniel Hebert was the picture of an anxious father. Not that Taylor could blame him. They'd been at this for a week now, trying to be as discreet as possible while still looking serious as they approached a number of companies. Her father being the head of hiring for the Dock Workers Union made it a little easier, of course that just meant there was pressure to perform.

Something that was a bit difficult without admitting to highly, highly illegal acts.

Parahumans Online, a forum the teenager had been checking for information, wasn't exactly positive about biotinkers in general. Healers, yes, they were amazing. But anyone and everything that specifically worked on people tended to be scrutinized to Hell and back.

"Hello? Ms. Hebert?"

That's why the politely disinterested voice coming on the other end of the line was a godsend.

"Yeah, I mean yes, uh, this is she?"

A small giggle from the other end while her father just gave her a thumbs up.

"Wonderful. Now, first things first, I must say I appreciate you staying on hold for so long, but you understand that we do try to screen people who call this number. The number of people who are, ah, incorrect about what they perceive is rather impressively high."

"I can imagine." Taylor agreed out of some long buried sense of social awareness.

"Perhaps." The response she got was purely polite and the teen swallowed. "Now, Ms. Hebert, to business. My name is Dragon, as you might suspect, and you believe you are a Tinker, yes?"

Scowling, the disinterest this time actually pissed the younger Hebert off a little. Perhaps this was literally the tenth business or organization that they'd called. Maybe it was because she was tired of adults dismissing her. Definitely it had something to do with the mounting worry related to the vehicles that seemed to follow her dad or drive by the house from time to time.

"I am." Her voice was crisp, clear. Anger had given it a mild bite but the kid kept her tone in check. "I specialize in working with liquids, with a theme of medieval alchemy, and my process works in stages." She figured that was enough infor before pausing, realizing that Dragon was probably her last, best hope unless she wanted to agree to the in person demonstration for Medhall, and pushed ahead. "And while I can not create a Philosopher's stone, yet, I can create something I call Rubedo. Basically, it's liquid health. Amongst a few other things."

Dragon took a long pause, likely thinking over the connotation, before asking the obvious question.

"So you're a healer?" Mild disbelief colored the woman's tone.

So, shaking her head, the girl denied it.

"No. Not really? My power can be used to heal, yes, but their primary purpose is to work Alchemy… more or less. It's a bit specific. But I would say that if you thought about it like what a rich guy in the fourteen hundreds thought of science as, then yeah, it's that."

This time it was Taylor who paused, unsure of herself now that she'd laid her cards on the table. Mostly. And wondered if this was the biggest mistake of her life.

"That sounds like a very interesting power, Ms. Hebert." Polite disinterest had returned to her voice. "But unless you can prove it, I can only point you to your local PRT office for testing."

Looking at her father, he nodded, mouthing the words "your call". She got the message. He thought this was the person to pull the trigger on, but that it was ultimately up to Taylor.

"That's entirely possible."

No pause carved through the conversation this time. Instead Dragon responded quickly and with interest this time.

"And would you permit the testing to occur at a PRT facility, on the conditions that they didn't attempt to recruit you into the Wards?"

Another look from her father and he grimaced and shrugged. That was the best they could hope for, but that they should go ahead. Nodding, Taylor opened up with their standard volley.

"Yes, but only on the condition of a written contract promising anonymity, protection of my identity and the identity of my father, and a guarantee we're not going to be strong armed into anything after the fact."

Chuckling, the world's greatest Tinker sounded amused.

"Well, you certainly know what you want ma'am. Though, if you don't mind, why are you so insistent you not be forced into the Wards?"

Licking her lips, Taylor tried to figure out how to express her crippling fear of social interaction. Of how the thought of being around other teenagers made her stomach roil. Of the knowledge that it'd just be like going back to Winslow, something her father hadn't forced her to do since before… Christmas, made her queasy and her stomach turn and her head hurt. In the end, she figured a degree of the truth would be for the best.

"I had a chronic, severe bullying issue in school. Uh. I'm not really interested in letting that repeat with super powered jocks."

There was an audible frown in Dragon's voice when she responded.

"While that sounds awful, shouldn't the school have taken care of that? Furthermore I can assure you that the Wards have strict anti bullying procedures in place. Something like that simply wouldn't be permitted to happen in the organization - not unless that branch wanted the Youth Guard to hit them like a dump truck."

"Do you know what city I'm calling from?"

A few seconds passed in which Taylor assumed that the Tinker was looking up her phone number.

"I see."

And that response said everything.

"Well, Brockton Bay's a Hellhole. Winslow was a shithole. And while the Wards might look nice, I'll let you imagine why I'm choosing to suspend my disbelief."

Taylor caught her father's eye and they both just took a moment to commiserate. Or, rather, the teen glared at her father until the self loathing went away and he held up his hands.

"Still, I can promise you there are good men in the city. Men who are fighting to make things better. To make them right."

Taylor sighed.

She didn't want to have an argument with the other Tinker. No matter how much trust the older woman had on the Protectorate or whatever friends she knew in there, Taylor wasn't foolish enough to put her belief in something flimsy like 'trusting people will be good'. Not after Emma.

This wasn't a time for blind faith.

'No, I have to be firm.' It was ultimately a very simple thing - she needed to make sure she wasn't getting gang pressed. Never mind the one doing it. After all, a gang would at least pay her for her time.

"Look, I just want a guarantee that if there are bad people mixed in then they can't just get my address off an internal document. I'm already running short on time as it is. Independents don't last very long here, Dragon."

"Yes, I am aware of the statistics."

Giving the phone an ugly look, Taylor had to bite her tongue.

How could someone sound… so flippant while talking about other people's lives? Maybe she was looking for a reason to be angry, but there was something insulting about having the very real danger to her life being classified as a simple number on someone's tally. Like her plight didn't matter enough. Even if the Canadian hero hadn't been meaning to offend her, it seemed almost glib in how she approached the single, weighty system.

"Do we have a deal?"

There was a pause on the other side of the line. Probably to make her even more anxious or something.

"I can arrange it."

Great.

Awesome even.

"Do you have any preferences, Ms. Hebert?"

"As soon as possible."

She saw her father wince, gesturing for her to lighten up.

What? Too much?

They didn't have that much time to waste on waiting. Either Taylor got someone to back her up and provide for her weird alchemical hobby, or someone would come along and make an offer neither of them could refuse.

"Very well, I will approach one of my contacts in the local PRT on your behalf. However, I cannot promise an immediate response. It shouldn't take me more than a day or two to approach them, so I would suggest you lay low until then."

Had Taylor been laying any lower, they'd need to get her a casket.

"Understood."

"Standard procedure would be to cut off any and all unnecessary communication. In cases dealing with a possible Tinker, PRT officials would caution you to maintain your distance from acquaintances and friends. In case of emergencies you can contact them with a specific number."

"I won't get a random office worker?"

"Nothing so stereotypical, I assure you. Should you find yourself in danger and need help this number will act as a signal and warn them. As such I caution you not to use it lightly."

Taylor wrote down the number.

Even so, there was something off.

Why did Dragon, someone from the Guild, have access to information like this? Was she pulling strings to make sure Taylor didn't get in trouble, or just trying to butter her up so she saw how there were good people out there? She didn't know enough about her to tell which was which and there was always the chance that Dragon's corporation was just a front, a false lead meant to trick new parahumans into outing themselves to someone in power.

Then again, she was a rotten judge of character.

"And the test?"

"An official will contact you once a date has been settled. Ms. Hebert. I urge you to remain patient. Despite what appearances may say, I am treating this emergency with all due caution. As such, you must take my instructions seriously. I don't doubt your sincerity, and the danger you face is very real."

That didn't mean much, if she was being honest, and it was an obvious platitude. However, something in her voice had changed slightly. Some kind of inflection that wasn't there before.

"This isn't the first time a teenager has gotten powers and tried to call the Guild for help, Taylor."

From there on, nothing else of importance was said and it felt like she'd missed something that went way, way over her head. Ultimately, Taylor thanked the world's most famous tinker for helping her, ended the call, and promptly slumped against her seat - tension leaving her body as she deflated and sunk into the couch.

"Well, that was something."

Her dad handed her a cup of water. Which Taylor accepted with slightly trembling hands.

"So," She started "How bad was it?"

"Not that bad. It was your first time so I'd rank it a solid six out of ten. You established boundaries and got what you wanted, but Dragon was treating you with kid gloves and you said a bunch of stuff that other people could use to argue against you."

He probably meant her mentioning the bullying.

And outright declaring she didn't trust authorities.

"She wasn't taking me seriously."

Danny sighed.

"She was treating you like a teenage girl who got in over her head and needed someone to back her up. Which we both know is true. Had this been a business deal, you'd be fighting a losing battle."

How to get what she wanted from someone, when you were already scraping the bottom of the barrel?

"Are we still going to approach Medhall? They did offer us an actual, in person meeting. It seems… rude, I suppose, to just not show up."

Taylor's words got a small nod from the man.

"There's no reason to put all our eggs in one basket, plus I want to know what kind of genuinely private sector contracts are out there. I have no doubt that Dragon would be the best choice in terms of security, but she's better known for being a Tinker than a businesswoman and her businesses mostly revolve around reverse engineering her tinkertech and selling it to countries and groups like Japan, Canada, the PRT, and the Guild. Medhall is first and foremost a for profit business and they'll pay you like it too." He paused for a moment. "And they're local. I'm not sure if that's a bonus or a malus, but at least it means we're dealing with people who understand Brockton Bay."

Nodding, the younger Hebert agreed.

"Yeah."


Armsmaster


Colin was a creature of habits.

He trained.

He tinkered.

He did his usual rounds around the city. Rinse and repeat on and on. There was some kind of comfort to be found in repetition. You could be certain that things would happen as they were supposed to. Almost like clockwork. If he continued to seek the results he wanted, eventually he would be given the opportunity he desired.

So he stayed vigilant.

He trained.

He tinkered.

And now he watched the Wards as they went through the rounds of their own training. Not that much different than his own, in part due to him utilizing his own sets as a baseline for physical fitness. Though Hana had chimed in when he was preparing the training regimes for Hess and Byron - their bodies needed specially tailored plans to adjust to differing hormone levels.

The point was made that, no, he couldn't simply provide a battery of tinkertech chemicals to start bringing them up to his levels of physical ability. Headquarters had actually squashed that.

His point was that they had potential.

They all did.

And it was his responsibility to bring it out of them - like a blacksmith would give shape to iron. By carefully exposing it to heat before hammering in the correct angles to form the appropriate tool for the appropriate job.

Though teenagers were different from metal, in that each was an entirely different material in and of themselves.

Shadow Stalker was unyielding, buckling under pressure yet snapping back into shape when that pressure was gone.

Vista was similarly unyielding, but of a completely different sort. She demanded to be treated like she was made of tougher stuff. It was to be expected from the one with seniority over the other wards. Yet Colin could do nothing but prepare her carefully and steadily. Too much involvement with physical training now could cripple her growth.

That much he had learnt from Dragon.

'And I am glad that you listened. Though I also recall telling you to try and bond with them. Studies show that a willingness to trust authorities stem from positive experiences with personal relationships.'

Colin didn't doubt her, nor did he think that Dragon's words were unwise.

He just wasn't very personable.

Let Militia or Velocity bond with them, his task was to keep them alive.

So long as they respected his authority as leader, he would be able to work with them.

'That's a start, I suppose. Have you reviewed the data I sent you?'

"The recorded call? Yes." He subvocalized, his helmet's sensors picking up the vibrations and transmitting them as words to the Tinker he happened to be communicating with through an earwig.

And he wasn't sure what to make of it.

Granted, Colin couldn't say he was an expert on how powers worked and what their actual limits were. That was defined through careful testing and experience. There had been many capes with conceptual or theme-based powers, though he had never seen a Tinker power so specifically tied to such a broad conceptual theme before.

Alchemy was, in broad strokes, a mixture of ancient chemistry and occultism.

Something grounded in science yet chasing after ephemeral dreams such as turning lead into gold and the creation of universal remedies and solvents.

But a Tinker specializing in producing reactions based on alchemical principles, perhaps? Depending on how narrow their range of available techniques were, they might be limited to hand production with archaic tools, or potentially even mass production if they followed anything that vaguely resembled physical laws.

That was where most of his attention was as he watched his Wards complete yet another set of tasks, Browbeat in particular abusing his body to scale a wall with greater speed than any but the fliers and Vista.

"There's only the issue, why would she be limited to just this period of alchemy?"

'Self suggestion?'

"A mental trigger?"

It wasn't unheard of. Loath as he was to admit, Myrdinn was an established hero who used a well established pattern of code words in order to achieve effects through his powers.

'You can just call them spells, Colin. Everyone does.'

His silence made it clear exactly what he thought about that suggestion. Eventually though one of his algorithms suggested that Dragon was politely waiting for his thoughts.

"I think that she has gotten caught up on one aspect of her power and thinks that's the whole of it."

Dragon's response was mildly troubling, but he was forced to admit it was the logical conclusion.

'So you think she's even stronger than she thinks she is.'

Choosing his words carefully, he tried to express what he knew was something a bit hypocritical even if he thought it was still an incredibly salient point.

"Perhaps she's gotten a bit hung up on the success she's already had."

'Meaning that she doesn't grasp just how terrifying her powers could be if she actually stretched her legs.' Another pause as his collaborator gathered her thoughts. 'I take it that you want her in the Wards then?'

There was no hesitation in his response.

"It's the only safe choice for her."

'I see.'

Colin didn't like how Dragon had responded, but he accepted the truth of things. He could be a stubborn bastard and he knew it. But to be able to shape such a potentially powerful Tinker would cement his legacy - perhaps even save the city.

It hadn't been the first time he had taken a Tinker under his wing. Right now the boy was scaling a rock wall, avoiding electrified rungs, and doing his best not to swear.

Before misplacing his hand, falling twenty feet, slamming into the mat, and gasping for air.

Kid Win was, admittedly, a work in progress. A Tinker without a clear specialization who lacked the dedication and drive to truly apply himself to the same degree that Colin had. Obviously, he had an advantage in that regard, but it would still do the boy some good to take after his work ethics.

Most days, he barely staved off his own urge to tinker and create.

It was challenging and no doubt frustrating for the Ward, but it was a process he would have to go through himself. No Tinker, perhaps aside from Dragon, could boast the understanding of other's creations necessary to better advise them beyond a cursory level.

She earned her reputation as one of the world's foremost tinkers.

'Aww, that's sweet of you!'

"Have you advised her to contact the PRT?"

'Yes, of course. The Guild has strict recruitment policies. Besides, she's not exactly in Canada, so even if there was something there that we wanted to do in that capacity, we couldn't.'

Colin nodded.

No minors. The Guild did not have a program for young capes like the Wards. Instead, they opted for recruiting experienced individuals who had the time to hone their abilities. Rather ironically, many Wards who didn't join the PRT opted for joining the Guild instead. Something he had brought up to Dragon before.

'Afraid I might poach this one?'

"You wouldn't have called me if you weren't at least interested."

'Yes, I'm afraid that even the all knowing and wise Dragon must bow down to Guild policies. We won't turn away those who have the freedom to make their own choices, but we also won't risk the lives of those who don't.'

He grunted.

That was lip service. They both knew it, but for some reason Dragon never made her true feelings known about the reason why she restricted herself from actively helping heroes under a certain age.

Someone like her definitely would be better suited than he.

'I have complete faith in your ability to help her in my stead.'

Didn't change the fact he would also be the one forced to explain to the Director how he came to know about the new cape.

There was a brief pause.

'I have complete faith in your ability to tell her in my stead, at least until I can finish all the paperwork needed to apply for a cross border parahuman related business venture.'

He grunted, this time to hide a chuckle.

At least they now had the answer to the case about the mysterious cape selling 'Miracle Drugs' across Brockton Bay.

The marketing department had been driving themselves insane trying to come up with a different codename for the proposed Cape which did not infringe the intellectual property of a certain budding healer from New Wave. Unfortunately, their need for flashy denominations did not lend itself to creativity.

Much like everything else connected to Public Relations.

'Now you are just being mean.'

"They tried to make me change my name to 'Halbeard'."

Now that Colin knew for a fact that there was a Tinker out there producing the miracle cures, he could see why the cape had tried talking to Dragon first. It made sense for her to try and get out of the city if the intention was to avoid the public eye and find a safe environment to work from.

Of course, the closest thing she had now were the Wards.

At least, he hoped she thought so.

This wasn't a case where they could let a private company back an independent hero just because they happened to have an interesting power that meshed with their products. Not unlike how Parian had multiple local toy stores eating out of her hand.

A pharmaceutical company with unrestricted access to a chemistry based cape?

He couldn't imagine a more disastrous outcome.

'We don't have an understanding of how her concoctions work yet. I doubt it will come to a confrontation.'

"You say that, but she obviously has issues with trusting authority. That she wouldn't consider directly contacting the PRT until you offered to do it for her tells me she doesn't hold us in high regard."

"Who doesn't these days?" When his coworker asked him that question, he realized he'd actually asked that question out loud.

"Afternoon, Hana."

The former Ward fell in step besides him, eyes trained on the teenagers who were now taking one of their scheduled breaks. And not a second sooner than he had intended. Though he would appreciate it if some of them wouldn't just collapse into heaps across the floor.

"You've been pushing them hard."

There was no underlying accusation. Merely a question.

"Some concerns were brought up regarding the effectiveness of our training schedules by select members of the team. In consideration of their efforts, I saw it as an invitation to have them demonstrate one of my private sets."

After it had been carefully adapted of course.

He may have been harsh, but he wasn't that harsh.

He also couldn't have done it without her approval.

"I take it they will be returning to the usual sets." His tone brooked no hesitation and it still made the other hero laugh.

"Shadow Stalker might continue them out of spite, you know."

Yes, he indeed knew. But maybe it was for the best. If the girl was too tired to get into trouble outside the Rig, then they wouldn't have to worry about her getting into fights or going out into the night to play capes and robbers. Less of a chance to run into threats like Hookwolf or Lung.

"And Aegis?"

"He wasn't as affected. Planning to get him started on official PRT routines?"

Nodding, he agreed.

"His body will survive regardless of how hard he pushes it. We need only find the right direction in which to push to strengthen it."

Without a doubt, the young man would soon be joining them and Armsmaster wanted to make sure he wouldn't go into it without as much preparation as he could. Regardless of his chances of survival, for as long as he was under Colin's command, he would do all he could to increase those numbers.

The world was dangerous.

And every scrap of preparation counted.

"So, I take it you've figured out who the new Tinker is?"

It was an obvious, leading question. The kind that almost frustrated him with its simplicity.

"They are not a hostile at this time."

Smiling, Miss Militia pressed ahead.

"I take it that you've already begun working up possible countermeasures?"

This time it was Colin's turn to frown.

"Unfortunately, no. Outside of conventional CBRN protective gear, I'll need to get a better handle on what they can do before I start making suggestions. However-" He turned to look the Kurdish woman in the eye. "I do think it would be smart to start wearing heavier clothes. Even a few seconds of time can make a great deal of difference."

"What are you thinking? Acids? Poisons? Contact toxins?"

That got a shrug from the veteran Tinker.

"The average individual can concoct phosphine gas, chlorine gas, chloramine gas, and worse with household cleaning ingredients. Assuming that the purchase lists I've looked over are correct, they'd have acquired a large number of potentially breakable glass containers. That means they could have any number of combinations separated by a small wax plug that could do anything from release toxic gasses, function like an incendiary device, become extremely acidic or basic, or worse." Turning back to the Wards, he finished in as blunt a manner as possible. "There's a saying about how tinkertech functions on the internet. I remind you that it applies here too."

"I suppose I should be glad that you couldn't do something like that, then." It was a clear attempt at a joke. He simply responded honestly.

"Who said I couldn't."

There was a long, pregnant pause.

"Jesus Christ, Colin, that's ominous."

Nodding, he found himself pleased with this response.

"Good. Even people who have experience, common sense, and skill like yourself sometimes forget just how much capes tend to hold back. For every Blaster that can imitate a CIWS or a hundred and eighty millimeter gun, there is a Tinker that could revolutionize the concept of warfare as humanity knows it."

"You wouldn't be saying this if you didn't think it was relevant to the newbie."

Agreeing, he answered Hana's unspoken question.

"They have a specialization that is potentially absurdly broad. Imagine if they're like Vista or Labyrinth or Panacea - Brockton Bay has a habit of producing incredibly powerful young women. Or even someone approaching the scope of Leet."

"Or they could be mostly harmless. Powers like those are extremely rare or limited in some capacity. Obsessing over the worst possible scenario without any proof. Even if, and I mean if, her powers are indeed chemistry based, she's had more than enough time and access to admittedly dangerous materials. She could have been selling bombs or toxins to make ends meet but instead isn't."

None of the civilians they had interviewed ever reported anything other than an overall increase in health. Though he knew they must have been hiding the culprit's identity, it was against protocol to press for a cape's identity.

Not without proof that they were a significant threat.

"Perhaps." He allowed for the supposition. "But it is our duty to plan for the worst case scenarios. I intend to revisit CBRN drills with the Wards later. If nothing else, the Merchants or the ABB might attempt to employ Chlorine gas. And while I doubt the E88 would be able to get their hands on Zyklon-B, I do not doubt that they would imitate their ideological progenitors if they felt it was expedient to do so. Ricin, sarin, tabun, and more are relatively simple to make if you invest a few million dollars."

Hana raised an eyebrow.

"I think you mean to say that you've wanted the chance to prepare the kids for a chemical or biological attack and this was a good excuse to do so."

Allowing a small smirk to form, he did not deny it.

"Not just the Wards."

Pausing, the Blaster took a moment to consider his Wards.

"Oh, I get it. You'll mention this to Director Piggot, allow her natural dislike of capes to bias her thoughts, and convince her that it's important to prepare both the Protectorate and the PRT for potential terrorist attacks."

It was a solid plan.

He'd been lobbying for additional measures to be implemented for a good long time now and the confirmation of a new Tinker was all he needed to make the push for some of the changes to combat future threats. Even if Dragon had put in a good word for the girl, and even if all evidence pointed towards her being a benign cape, Colin was sure the higher ups would jump at shadows.

So he would present them with the worst possible scenarios.

He would give them the answers to those hard questions.

And then, when the Miracle Cure Tinker showed up and proved to be a positive addition, they would be so relieved they wouldn't even notice they had given Armsmaster everything he needed.

Truly, Colin loved his work.