A/N: Please see the end for notes.

May 9th, 2011

"What do you mean, we can't leave?"

Lisa sighed and rubbed her temples. She'd been doing that a lot with me lately. "I mean boss's orders. Look, think of it this way. We're being paid to have a mini vacation. We don't have to join the circus that's going on downtown right now, which means we're playing it safe, and you have to agree that's what you're always pushing for."

Yeah, but not at the expense of others when I could help it. Just yesterday Coil released the names of the E88, sending Brockton Bay into a literal warzone over Purity's daughter. Apparently she was holed up in some PRT safe house, though I couldn't imagine they'd be safe for long.

"I know what you're thinking," Lisa said quietly. She drew my attention away from the TV. "But if you try to do anything- and he will know- you'll draw the wrath of Coil upon yourself, alone. He isn't grounding us because of Brian's stunning moral values."

I shrugged, careful not to reveal my thoughts. "And I assume this whole shit show is going to help us in the end?"

It was her turn to shrug. "If anyone would know, it would be him."

Sighing, I turned back to my mug of tea. "Alright. I won't go out."

Today, I added.

…

The stairs of our hideout creaked under my feet, but Rachel didn't so much as stir from her bedroom. I spotted Brutus curled near the front of the door, but aside from baring his teeth he didn't stand.

A bit of tension left my frame. Not that he wasn't his own threat without Rachel's influence or upgrade, but at least he wasn't about to maul me.

Even in the early morning where thousands of apartment windows and storefronts burned like small suns, Brockton Bay looked tired. The E88 took their toll on the city during the day between the partially collapsing buildings and ashy taste in the air. Wherever they had been looking, Purity's daughter wasn't there.

Luckily, I already knew.

I tugged my sweatshirt closer and took off in a jog down the dew-shined street. It was a gamble on whether going in costume or civilian clothes was better, but I figured it was one less chance for me to be caught up in a cape fight.

On one hand, if I came in contact with Purity or the rest of E88 in costume, I'd be good as pulverized. On the other, if I needed to fight I'd be able to keep my identity under wraps.

But that's not what I'm aiming for, I thought, clutching my sleeves in my fists to strike up some warmth. The whole point of this excursion was to not get caught.

I kept my head down as I passed through the neighborhoods closest to where Purity struck. Caution tape fluttered over some of the more damaged areas, but for the most part it was left untouched.

It wasn't long before I reached the road sign I was looking for. A glance at the torn piece of notebook paper confirmed this was the place: Dale and Emerson.

I don't know when Lisa managed to do it, but the note had been tucked neatly between my glasses on the side table when I reached for them. Guess I was more transparent than I thought.

Best not to think on that now, I thought grimly. Distractions would cost me.

The safe house was squat and unassuming, but I knew it had to be filled with at least several PRT officers. No doubt it was being monitored by at least a couple of cameras, too. I settled for a block away. My backpack in hand, I crouched below a hedge of shrubbery adjoining a house-turned-business reading Smilez-for-Days Dentistry.

I picked up what seemed like a boy and… a baby? They were strapped to a stool towards the corner of the house. Duct tape ran across the boy's mouth and arms, though their legs were kept free. The baby was balanced in his lap unbound. I could see the incentive for keeping still.

It was almost too dark to see, but with a slight angle to the moonlight I began mapping out the house. There were three rooms total: one main floor, and two adjoining rooms with the doors removed from their hinges. Holes had been drilled through the walls at multiple angles, assumedly for sniping and keeping watch. Aside from a bathroom, two couches and a mini fridge, the place was bare.

I frowned. You'd think they would've tried to make it more realistic. That should've been the second sign something was wrong. No one else was here. I didn't even find a body, just the two strapped to the stool.

Well, this wasn't good. I thought the news said 'child', not children. How was I supposed to believe that this wasn't a trap?

I sat there in deliberation for the better part of an hour till purple loomed on the horizon. The day was starting soon, and whatever I was going to do needed to be done before then. Deciding that I might as well give them a hand in case they were actual hostages, I sent my swarm in. The boy flinched, causing the baby to flail.

I tried arranging a smiley face to show I was a friendly, but I had no idea how creepy it actually looked. He didn't dare move again, though, so I got to work. All bugs with pinchers I set onto chewing the tape around his arms, wrist-first.

The process was slow going- some of the smaller ones got stuck to the residue of the first layer, and the stronger ones lost a limb or two from it. Finally, he gained enough room to tear and slide off the tape before ripping off the piece across his face. He cradled the baby and set his foot on the floor, but before his heel could touch the ground, the building burst into flames and I was going,

going,

gone.

Present

They say either drowning or burning to death is the most painful way to die. I've been burned plenty of times and each time hurt like hell, but I've never been one for swimming to begin with.

Now, though, I think I know what they were getting at.

It's the weight of the water against your chest. The utter hopelessness when despite your best attempts, the surface keeps out of reach. Darkness ebbs on the corners of your vision until finally, static settles in place.

And yet.

The world exploded into color; hazy, pulsing waves of pain wracked my chest and belatedly I realized I was coughing up water. My body constricted violently, lungs burning, eyes watering. It took me a moment to register Weld's face hovering over mine, a sort of panic in his eyes I had never seen before.

The adrenaline sapped out any reserves my body held, and I couldn't control it when my eyelids fell shut.

…

Consciousness flooded me like a tidal wave, and in one smooth motion I jolted up and headbutted a wall.

Gentle hands eased me down onto hard rock while I groaned, clutching my head. My movements were sluggish; even my tongue felt heavy in my mouth.

I blinked slowly, adjusting to the low light. We were under some sort of rock overhang jutting out the cliff side. The light chirping of birds met my ears, and the roar of the waterfall was further than it had been before. Before.

We had made it to Leavenworth only for the forest to literally explode, and then the gnomes appeared and the bomb went off, and…

"Oh," I said. I'm alive.

Weld paused during his check-up on Clockblocker. His body was prone and stiff, save for the shallow breaths that were almost deafening in the silence. As for the others…

We were the only ones here.

Weld abruptly left the shelter. I tracked his movements as he collected a crude rendering of a bowl left in the sun, then headed down a slight hill to a stream not far from our shelter. With his fist in a lightly-studded ball, he did a cursory rub down the inside of the bowl, then rinsed it out several times before filling it. With that, he scooped up a separate basket of dandelion leaves that had been left to soak in the water.

He was able to throw together this much since then? I must've been unconscious longer than I thought. Now that I was more awake, I gingerly sat up but immediately regretted it. A gash about two inches long rested above my left eyebrow, deep enough to leave a scar. It was still gummy and stung like a bitch, but at least it wasn't bleeding.

The rest of my head pounded, and my body didn't fare any better. While most of the blood had been washed away from the waterfalls, there were still dried streaks flaking off my arms and legs. Underneath the ever-present dirt were mottled bruises and scrapes, luckily none that looked too serious.

I took stock of my belongings, and that was far more concerning.

My mask had been knocked off when we were running. It was weird to think that something so significant to my cape life, my real life, was gone. That, and several more sections of armor, including the back piece that had been providing coverage for my chest. The two teeth of my front scars peeked out from under my abused undershirt, covered in dirt but nonetheless visible. Barring that, it was obvious something was missing. I closed my eyes.

There were more pressing things that demanded my attention, but still. I gathered a swarm of insects around me like a cloak, hiding my scars from view.

Weld returned by the time the white noise in my head dwindled to a low buzz. If he noticed I was covered in bugs, he graciously didn't mention it.

He traded Vista's life for mine.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. My voice cracked from thirst.

Except for placing the bowl of water at my feet, he ignored me and went to Clockblocker's side with the basket. Weld's body blocked my view when he removed Clockblocker's mask and slipped pieces of mushy dandelion into his own mouth, grinding it down into a paste that he spit back into his palm and coaxed into Clockblocker's mouth.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn't move. In all honesty, Clockblocker didn't look so good. His chest was an angry, mottled red, and the skin burned red with inflammation. Hopefully it was from the falls and not some chemical reaction from the gnome spit.

I carefully nursed the bowl of water, willing the metallic taste in my mouth to wash away. All I wanted was to knock back the entire bowl, but it was better to take it slow.

"How long have I been out?"

Weld leaned back on his heels once he finished his task. "About a day and a half."

That long? I definitely felt out of it, but not an entire day and a half's worth.

He grabbed the bowl from my hands and left the shelter. With my fragile strength I rose to follow, but he was already halfway down the hill and there wasn't any point. He obviously needed space.

I could hardly imagine what I'd be feeling in his place. From what I could, I knew the last thing I'd want would be to talk. Getting a clear head was the best thing for him right now.

In the meantime, I could put my skills to some good use. Several yards of silk had been spun while I'd been out, and I set upon weaving them together into a poncho for the meantime. A rabbit about four hundred feet away quickly died and was on its way. Threads were wrapped around the perimeter of my range, marking this safe zone as our "territory." For now.

With Clockblocker in the state he was in, we wouldn't be able to move too much. His chest needed to be sorted out first. I shuffled over to the other end of our shelter. If he had any broken ribs, that was a whole other ordeal we'd need to deal with.

"Sorry for this," I muttered, and lightly pressed along his chest for anything out of place. I wasn't sure what I was looking for- my first aid class hadn't covered anything like this and I wasn't willing to press harder. But after feeling over the skin that looked the worst, all I could gather was inflammation, no bumps or divots. That had to mean something.

Weld returned with another bowl of water; the basket was left behind in the stream to soak. He hovered in the entrance.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm checking for injuries," I said, carefully neutral.

"I already did that."

"What have you done for his chest?"

"We're not exactly in a pharmacy," he replied with an edge to his voice.

Awesome, getting off to a great start. "Look, I'm not trying to say you-"

"What are you trying to say?" Weld interrupted me. He stepped towards me, angling his face down to mine.

I narrowed my eyes. "We need to talk about what we're going to do. He needs something cold for his chest to bring down the inflammation- leaves, mud. Anything."

He didn't say anything at first. The angle of his face cast a shadow across his eyes. Not for the first time, I wondered what I was doing. This was unfamiliar territory, and aside from blocking his eyesight or slowing him down with silk, I couldn't stop him if he decided to snap my neck.

But this was Weld. Charlie-and-the-Chocolate-Factory-Weld, who's been at my side for a week and saved my life more I could count. Deep down, I knew he wouldn't kill me.

He seemed to know the moment I figured that out, because he calmly placed the bowl beside Clockblocker and threw me over his shoulder.

"Hey!" I yelled, punching my fist on his back before thinking. The vibration rolled through my body. My swarm erupted in a flurry of bugs, latching on to his face and overall blanketing the area. My silk fliers came in a full sweep to tie him up, but he moved too fast, and the rest of them were currently in the process of applying tripwires for any threats outside our shelter.

He dropped me outside like I was a sack of potatoes. At least the dirt was soft, and the grass wasn't dry or laden with pine needles, for once.

"Taylor Hebert, I'm placing you under arrest for the crimes committed under the cape name 'Skitter.' Comply, and it will work in your favor," he said.

It took a moment for the words to process. Then, I laughed bitterly. "You're a fucking moron."

He didn't speak, and I asked harsher this time. "Are you serious?"

Weld chuckled, a dark edge to his voice. "Am I serious? That's rich, coming from you."

What the fuck- "Is now really the time?"

He folded his arms, surveying the wall. "You've killed people. Mutilated them, blinded them. When you do that type of stuff, you get arrested. Do I need to slow down for you?"

He was reciting what the Skitter clone had told him during the Echidna fight. This didn't even feel real. It felt like I was suspended between a dream and reality, and this Weld was some figment of my imagination.

"In case you've forgotten," I said painfully slow, "we're in a truce."

"Yeah, until we're back. And then you're going to jail."

"What are you doing? Do you even remember what literally just happened to the rest of our group?"

"Fuck knows I do." Any pretense of calm was thrown at the window. He snarled, looking for a moment like he wanted to break something. "And you're just- just sitting there, like it's no big deal. Like people are dispensable."

I took in the way he hunched over, chest rising as though he needed air. He clenched his fists, metal skin whining from the pressure.

"No, this is about you. This is about how you treat people, manipulate them. The ends don't justify the means, Skitter. You can't talk like a hero if you're acting like a villain and expect life to work out for you, for people to work with you-"

This is getting personal. I stood.

"-and then you take on the law and ask why we're trying to arrest you. You want to know why? It's because it's illegal. It doesn't matter what your intentions are."

I knew he wasn't in his right mind. This was just his way of coping with grief- lashing out at people, ignoring the bigger picture. It was my poor luck that I was the only target around.

And yet. God, I was tired.

"Doesn't it?" I asked, giving in for once. "You know as much as I do that protocols and procedures slow down the law. Nothing gets done."

I stepped forward. "You could have had me in custody long ago if it weren't for those laws. Doesn't that bother you?"

He clenched his jaw. Something about the action had me crashing down to earth, and I took a step back, collecting myself.

"But now is seriously not the time. We're stuck on some earth with only each other to work with- against monsters and nature. Your friend is wounded. You're outnumbered. Weld, you're smarter than this."

Weld shook his head. "No. If we're going to do this, we're doing it now."

"Oh, come on." I rolled my eyes.

"I thought you liked saying your piece. Now's your chance to get a 'hero' to understand."

"You're not ready to listen," I pointed out. "This is just to distract yourself from what you're really upset about."

Weld continued as if he didn't hear me. "Let's start with Coil."

My power surged around us, poking and prodding to be put into action, spinning patterns in the air. Just the name had my blood boil.

"You mean Thomas Calvert?"

"You helped kidnap Dinah Alcott," he said, ignoring my question.

"He tricked us," I said. It came out more bitter than I intended. Once I spoke, the words poured out. "He gave us a job that turned out to be a distraction. When I found out he had her, I made it my goal to stop him."

"Only then?" he asked. "What, you didn't think anything else he was doing was bad? Where's your-"

He sounds like Clockblocker. "Humanity?" I suggested, catching the way Weld narrowed his eyes. "All things considered, I didn't know he was worse than the ABB. A gang I helped stop while the heroes took the credit, by the way."

"Just like how you helped stop the E88. Can't say I would've done it the same way."

"That was Coil," I emphasized.

"Was it?" Weld asked. "Then explain. Here's your chance."

"He released their names. He blew up the safe house. The only orders he gave us were to stay indoors when it happened."

Weld shrugged. "So then what's the deal with Purity?"

I huffed, feeling like my body was filled with steam ready to explode out of me. The whole business with Purity and Slaughterhouse Nine never left my name once she reappeared after her mind snapped.

"Jack saw her as a recruit. Everyone knew her power was a lesser version of Legend's, and yeah. She might have been a villain. She broke the law. But at least she had morals strong enough to keep her from blowing up cities too often," I said, the words coming out in a rush. "I was able to reach past that brokenness and convince her not to join up with Slaughterhouse Nine. At least, I think I played a part in it."

Weld shrugged. "And?"

"Fuck you, man." I shook my head. "You don't know what he was like. He had… people over our heads, things we cared about. If we stepped out of line, he let us know."

"You know, maybe that's true. But did you ever try going to us for help? To anyone-"

"The world knows I did."

He continued as if I hadn't said anything. "You value justice so much, you should've been happy to help the system along. A few years in jail for you and your friends, sure, but you'd be helping everyone," a metal finger juts my way, "including yourself."

My swarm was thicker, now; swarming around us, I could hardly discern the buzzing in my head versus the cloud around us. It was as though we were in the middle of a tornado.

"It's never that easy," I said. "I never wanted to be a villain. Neither did Sundancer, or Genesis, or-"

"The rest of your team?"

I shook my head. "We're not talking about them."

"And Sophia?"

"You have no idea what she really was," I hissed, seeing red. "What she did to me."

Weld looked away, and I paused to catch my breath. The sunlight was dimmed by my black cloud, casting shadows upon us both. I wiped my forehead, feeling the absence of my mask like a lost limb. Everything about me was laid bare, vulnerable.

"I read the articles," he said finally. His gaze remained on the dirt. "A single, widowed father, trying to revive the docks while his daughter went on neglected and bullied by a Ward. There were child abuse speculations, even. Maybe you held a bit of a grudge against him. No one would blame you for that."

He paused, glancing up. I fought the urge to fold my arms. "Are you sure it was Coil who ever held anything over you?"

That… hurt more than it should've. I blinked, hard. Why do I care at all what he thinks?

"Bastard," I said, barely keeping my tone even.

"I wouldn't know," he replied softly.

"Your turn." I was still seething, voice rough, and it took some effort to get the words out. "You've been in charge of how many teams, at least two? And look where they are now. Dead. Almost as soon as you took control. And why were you even sent to Brockton Bay, anyways?"

I circled him slowly, my footsteps falling silent under the rising cacophony of my swarm. He stiffly looked ahead.

"Boston still had its villains, and it's not like there weren't other Wards ready for leadership. Are you sure Director Armstrong enjoyed those summer hikes as much as you did?"

I stopped in front of him. My swarm raged around us closer now, pinning us in the eye of the tornado. We would've been nose to nose if he weren't focused on a point beyond my shoulder. He made no move. If I knew he wouldn't kill me, he must've known I wouldn't kill Clockblocker.

"I'm going to wash off in the stream," I said, straining my voice to remain even. He didn't try to stop me when I stepped through my swarm, leaving the cloud for him to deal with.

My mind was blank as I neared the stream bed, dropping the surviving pieces of my armor on the bank. My pants and utility compartment went next, till finally all that was left were my underclothes.

The water was only about a foot deep and frigid, but it was more than I'd had for the past few days. I laid in the current, letting the residual grime the waterfall hadn't gotten washed down the stream.

Fuck him.

My hands shook as I rubbed myself down, taking extra care on my underclothes. A few holes riddled them, unsurprisingly, but it was nothing some silk couldn't handle. After that, I finally bit the bullet and stripped down to nothing, laying my clothes under a rock to keep them from slipping away. I had enough eyes in the area to know if something approached, and if it did, well. Its loss.

What was left of my armor was still caked in blood, so I methodically went through the stack and rubbed the pieces down as much as I could. The skin on my palms was raw by the time they were more or less clean.

I didn't feel any better. After going several days in mud, vomit and blood, you'd think washing off would have some sort of therapeutic effect. Except, it didn't. My body was numb with cold, and I was still stranded in another world, left in the dark as to what was going on, and now circumstances were worse than ever.

And, I noted bitterly, my hair is ruined. It was pure vanity, really, but that was the last straw. Pieces of bark and other things were stuck in the mess, and try as I may, I couldn't get any of it out. Sections of my hair were matted together like large dreadlocks. My reflection wavered in my peripheral, but I avoided looking down.

I had to assume Miss Militia and the rest were dead, which meant it was only me and two heroes, both, apparently, uncooperative. Hell, one of them was unconscious and in desperate need of medical attention.

A town reduced to post-apocalyptic rubble in a matter of months. All those people, dead. Where did that leave me?

My breath hitched, and then I was choking back a sob.

We'd been out here for about a week, yet the only leads we had were ungodly creations and ghost towns. What was the point in us being here?

Why would the Simurgh bring us here, of all the capes? It didn't make sense.

"Fuck," I said aloud. This was a total mess.

I remained stewing on the bank until the sky retired to a dark blue. My clothes were at least dry and reinforced with silk, and I had painstakingly weaved my remaining armor plates down. I felt cleaner, a little more clear headed. By the time I got back to the shelter, the moon shone brightly overhead.

Newly-hung branches hid the entrance, and the rabbit I'd delivered earlier was skinned and skewered over the charred remains of what used to be a small fire.

I debated the merits between prolonging the inevitable and catching up on meals, but hunger won over everything. I hadn't eaten all day, and it was catching up to me now that exhaustion was really settling in. But the distraction could only last so long.

Despite the terms I'd left on, sleeping alone out here was the last thing I wanted. I crept to the entrance, the argument from before seeping into my hesitation now. I didn't want to argue anymore. I just wanted some reprieve.

I caught a muffled sound just as soon as I moved the branches.

Weld looked up from where he sat, shoulders hunched. "I thought you'd left," he said. His face looked different.

"I have nowhere else to go," I replied after a moment.

He looked away when I joined him, though the brief glimpse I got was more than enough. The copper tears were already seeping into his skin. They branched out like broken capillaries across his cheeks, a stark contrast to the silver lines along the sides of his face.

"You should lay back down," he said finally. His face morphed back to its dusky metal. "Get some rest."

I swallowed, still hunched in a semi-standing position. This moment held a kind of weight that I was beginning to recognize over the past few months. It was the same feeling I had that very first night I donned my costume and breathed the balmy air. Like when I walked down the streets of my hometown alone, yet surrounded, as the sirens announcing Leviathan blared.

The same sensation as when I pulled the trigger on Coil.

I made up my mind before I could back out, sitting gingerly beside Weld. Shoulder to shoulder.

"You know, Miss Militia was my favorite as a kid," I whispered.

Weld stared at me. It was strange, watching his eyes tear up. I knew they weren't actual tears; at least, not in the normal sense. But in the moonlight the glint of the metal provided a depth to his face and for a moment, I could imagine him in flesh.

"I don't really know the others, but you guys were formidable in your own right. And Vista? I kinda wish I had that much spunk when I was her age. I'd probably have turned out a lot different," I said.

Beside me, he tilted his head back.

"You were right," he said finally, so soft I almost questioned he spoke. "I've failed the last two teams I've led, and yet, I'm still here. Even after the reveal about Alexandria and the PRT and Cauldron, I-" he broke off, visibly seething. For a moment, I was reminded this was the same guy that could skin a tree like it was butter.

"I don't really even know why I'm trying," he finally said. He shrugged, looking every inch the teen he was supposed to be. "Forgive me for sounding fatalistic, but between you and me, I just don't fucking know anymore."

There was something he wasn't saying, but I wasn't going to press. There were a lot of things I could say to that. We only lose when we give up. There are people waiting for us to get back home; people who need us.

Instead, I let the silence rest.

"I'm sorry," he said abruptly. His eyes were a heavy weight on my face. "What I said about your father was a low blow, and it isn't anyone's business but your own."

"Yeah, well," I said, feeling more than ready to drop the subject. "We both said some things."

He shook his head, turning to face me with open soberness.

"To be brutally frank, I haven't felt this lost and hopeless since I woke up like this. But I do know that we need you in this. You're cunning and resourceful, and even though we've ended up on the wrong side of the lines, I don't think you're a bad person."

Huh.

"It's crazy, but I'm beginning to see you as a teammate. Despite all this."

Despite the line between us. Despite whom we are.

"Glad to know that's crazy," I replied dryly.

"Maybe it's not," he replied seriously. "I want to start over."

I wanted that, too. Skitter was dead, and I'd been digging her grave ever since Echidna, maybe even before then. She wouldn't work for what was coming ahead.

His knee bumped lightly against my side as he shifted to sit in front of me.

"I'm Weld," he said, extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you," I said slowly. "I'm Taylor."

We both held on longer than was necessary. Suddenly self-conscious, I let go and flexed my hand behind my back.

It's difficult, being human. You want to make barriers and keep people at a distance in order to maintain a level head, a feeling of stability. But there's a cost to that. Loneliness. Out here, I hadn't had the chance for much human contact aside from pushing each other along. But this? This felt like belonging.

"I really admired Miss Militia, too," he said quieter, continuing our earlier conversation. "I had run into her a few times before the transfer. To be more representative," he paused, "they had me make an appearance at a naturalization oath ceremony for new citizens. The speech she gave about becoming an American is something I'll never forget."

Weld fixed me with a humorless quick of the lips. "I looked up to Legend, too."

"Fuck," I muttered.

"Fuck," he agreed.

We sat in silence, though it didn't hold the tension of before. Before I could talk myself down from it, I patted his shoulder. Surprisingly, he looked a little lighter for it.

"I'm not really sure what to say, now," I said honestly. "Goodnight?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." He looked at me. "I'll take watch outside."

Weld got to his feet, ducking his head so it wouldn't hit the rocky overhang. From what my blurry vision could see of the night sky, it was clear and bright. I imagined the stars.

He paused just outside the shelter. "Thank you for coming back… Taylor."

With that, he closed the gap of the foliage. Darkness descended like grace.

A/N:

Hey.

So much has happened in my life since I began The Rise of One, and yet this story has always been in the back of my mind. I started TROO when I was a freshman in college two weeks after I finished reading Worm. I drafted up the overall plot, got excited for what I felt were the pivotal moments to come, and drafted the first couple of chapters in a matter of weeks (that's not easy while working two jobs and being a full-time college student!)

But despite the influx of positive reviews, there were just as many negative messages (public and private) that dragged me down. Writing became more of a high-pressured chore. Each chapter I was filled with dread versus satisfaction, and what started out as a fun hobby became something that I began to think about while I was at work, laying down for bed, spending time with family. I even found my story be critiqued across other websites/chat threads I had never heard of (which, wow! Sort of a cool thing that it gained that traction).

I say all of this not as a ploy for pity or compliments, but as an explanation. TROO drew more attention than I ever thought it would, and for that, thank you. But I think the Worm fandom was just so much more different than what I was used to (on my other account, I write primarily Marvel and Legend of Zelda fanfictions), and it sort of turned me off. I still have a heart for these characters and what I was building towards, but it's been so long since I've read up on the story (or my own rabbit-trail notes) that I'm not sure I can do it justice. I had an empire built for this story, but I don't think it can hold up against the brick-and-mortar timeline and science of the original story (or those who know certain characters like the back of their hands). I've never been so much about the details as I've been about the character interactions, and as I'm sure you can tell from this story, I always wanted Taylor to have a full-drawn conversation with the BB heroes.

Anyways... I wanted to leave you guys with this piece of the draft I had saved on my old computer. I'm not saying I'll never continue this, but I'm not promising you an official end, either. Thank you for still leaving comments on this, despite the years passing by with no message. I read every single one, and it's because of you that I stitched together the loose ends of this chapter into something passable. Thank you. X