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Chapter Four: Mouseketeer
A loud horn brought Taylor awake with a startled squeak. She'd been dreaming of cities in the biting cold of space and monsters that left her heart beating with dread and terror. The horn at first sounded like one of the monsters as they consumed a planet. It was the second honk that woke her.
The tractor-trailer she climbed into back at Grand Forks pulled out within minutes of her arrival. Each second of those minutes felt like an eternity as she waited for the police or the Protectorate to find her. They didn't, though. The authorities must have believed she was still in the Schaefer's home.
Though cold, Taylor felt clean and full, and the steady vibration of the highway lulled her into a deep sleep. If not for the horn, she would still be deeply asleep. Opening her eyes seemed a Herculean task, and her whole face felt numb from the cold.
Waste of fucking time.
Taylor tried to blink back sleep as the stray thought entered her mind. It wasn't her thought, but she was too sleepy to care. Whether it was from the lingering drugs or just exhaustion, her mind felt sluggish and heavy. She sat, stupefied, as the doors to the trailer opened and two police officers, silhouetted by dull sunlight, climbed in with flashlights. Both flashlights zoomed immediately to where she had curled up in a nest of paper towel boxes.
The two men stood frozen for the longest moment, while Taylor stared back in exhausted shock.
"Holy shit!" one of the officers said. He reached for the pistol on his side, while the other man turned and screamed, "SHE'S HERE!"
The sight of the man's gun broke Taylor out of her fugue state. Adrenaline washed away her fatigue and the sense of danger from the Force blasted away her hesitation. With a frightened shout, Taylor lashed out with her power. Boxes of napkins, toilet paper and paper towels shot toward the two policemen.
The armed one screamed and shot once into the roof of the trailer before both men were blown from the back of the truck. Taylor grabbed her back pack and followed on stiff legs.
She emerged enough to see a huge parking lot next to a travel center. A long line of trucks stretched out behind her, forming a great big circle around the entire lot, which was easily larger than a five or six football fields. On the ground before her, the cardboard boxes made it hard for the two officers to regain their footing.
Beyond them, a heavily bearded man sat staring at her with a gaping jaw from within the cab of the next truck down. Is it her? Is it Hebert? Where are the damned capes?
All around, urgent, angry thoughts stabbed at her mind. She could sense easily a dozen people coming up on either side of the truck, running toward her with their weapons drawn. If she didn't move, they'd have her trapped.
Move she did. Gathering the Force inside of her body, she pulled her backpack tightly on around her shoulders and rushed forward, leaping the six meters between the end of the trailer and the next truck without any problem.
"It's her!"
"Call the Protectorate!"
Verbal cries mixed with angry or frightened thoughts into an angry soup of mental noise. Taylor knew she was running out of time. She somersaulted from the hood of the cab onto the trailer behind it and ran as fast as she could. The cold air burned against her face as she accelerated faster than even she anticipated. She leaped to the next truck without missing a step and continued running.
The voices and thoughts were falling behind, but sirens were replacing them.
Suddenly, inexplicably, a large metal shield with an embossed silhouette of stylized mouse appeared directly in front of her face. She lost her footing right as the shield pushed forward, slamming into her chest and chin.
"Surprise, mother fucker!" a woman crowed.
Taylor's whole head rang with cathedral bells as she flew backward, actually airborne for a second or two before she rolled to a stop on the top of a motionless tractor trailer. Her chin burned and throbbed from the blow.
A figure that should have been ridiculous sauntered toward her. The grown woman in a tight-fitting red and brown leather suit wore actual mouse ears on her head. Her shield had a mouse silhouette on it, and her costume had a similar silhouette on her chest. Taylor knew she was looking at Mouse Protector, a cape known to ham it up with her opponents. Taylor had even liked the hero when she was younger.
Yet, as this figure walked calmly toward Taylor with an honest-to-God sword in one hand and a shield in another, with strategically placed red metal plates of armor over her legs, arms and chest, suddenly Mouse Protector seemed a lot less ridiculous, and a lot more intimidating.
"You know, when Dragon reported you managed to sabotage the jet and escape, I was grateful," the hero said as if talking about a great book she'd read. "I started hopping right out here. Know why?"
The hero blinked out of existence, only to appear mid-step a foot from Taylor. Her swinging kick caught Taylor right in the stomach and sent the lighter girl flying off the trailer, over the cab, and only the cold, snow-dusted asphalt of the pavement. Taylor tried to draw a breath, but couldn't. A brief panic fluttered through her mind as she tried desperately to breathe through bruised, or possibly even cracked ribs.
Mouse Protector followed with a single leap that covered at least twenty feet, landing with barely a flex of her knees.
"Because Miss Militia was my friend," Mouse Protector continued as if she'd simply paused for a breath. Her exposed mouth held a feral, cruel smile. Even without being able to see her eyes through her yellow visor, even without the woman's words or thoughts, Taylor could tell this woman hated her. "Not just my friend. She was my sister. And you…fucking…killed her."
Taylor desperately grasped at the Force in the back of her head even as she struggled to breathe.
Another blink, and once again Mouse Protector was a foot away, mid-kick. This time Taylor rolled to the right, missing the powerful kick, and snapped both her own feet at Mouse Protector's planted ankle.
Somehow, instead of having her ankle broken, the cape lifted the planted foot and back-flipped clear like a professional gymnast.
"Good, I was hoping you would at least try."
Another blink. Taylor braced herself, but this time the kick came from behind, striking her mid-back and sending her skidding across the asphalt. Taylor couldn't help but cry out in pain as the agony in her ribs was now joined by agony in her back.
"Thing is, little bitch, no one is going to help you." The hero sauntered toward her again, swinging her hips almost as if dancing. "Oh, I heard about your terrible boo-hoo trigger. Guess what? All triggers suck. Every first-gen cape has a story just as bad. If that'd been the end of it, we'd be having a different conversation. But no, you had to go and kill one of the only real friends I had in this world. So, I'm going to kill you. And no one's going to care. No one's going to stop me. No one's…"
With a scream, Taylor surged to her feet, gripped the hateful cape in her power, and spun her at the end of a telekinetic tether as if she were doing a hammer throw. When she released her grip the infamous hero few away as fast as a bullet, slamming into and through the trailer where the fight started.
Taylor stumbled back to the ground, hurting and fighting back tears. Unfortunately, Mouse Protector blinked right back a second later with a spinning side-kick that sent Taylor sprawling and set her ears to ringing and her chin bleeding again.
The hero wiped blood from her chin. "Okay, I'll give you that one. That was a good move. But see, I've got you tagged. There's nowhere you can go that I can't find you now in an instant. There's nothing you can say or do to change what's going to happen. I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to get the bounty for your head, and I'm going to buy a bottle of single-malt and I'm going to toast your death to Militia's grave. Sound good?"
Taylor's whole body thrummed with pain. She was certain she had broken ribs. Her chin was split and bleeding, and her head rang with the hated voices of all those around her. Struggling to her knees, Taylor could see rings of police officers and spectators just standing around in the distance, waiting for her to die.
"Please!" Taylor cried. "Please just leave me alone."
"Like you left Militia alone?" She swung her sword as if testing the weight of it. "I'm not just going to kill you quick, though. No, I'm going to split your belly so you can hold your own guts in your hands. Saw that in a movie once. I've always wanted to try it. And guess what? Escaped Birdcage convicts can be killed without legal repercussion. So, it's all good. Funny thing is, PRT had you classified as a threat. But you're not are you? Doesn't matter how much power you have, if inside all you are is a weak, stupid little girl."
It could have been Sophia talking. Or Emma. Or any of the other girls who tortured her at Winslow. They were right, she realized. She was weak. She was…
You are more, Sister. See. Know. Be.
Taylor couldn't have said whether it was a vision, a memory, or just a fevered dream on the cusp of her death. It felt as if her mind tingled as the Force exploded outward from the base of her skull throughout her entire body. She didn't gasp weakly at it like before, but rather the power of it spilled into her so powerfully it hurt.
She saw a girl, beautiful but alien. Tall, light and pale like chalk. A braid hung from her bald, tattooed head. She crouched low, two glowing, silver swords in her hand. Facing her was a creature equally feminine—beautiful in a way Greg Veder from school might have envisioned as dark and evil. Crimson red skin, twin tails of flesh protruding from the back of her head instead of hair. A heaving bosom showed to all the world that the red skin was natural. She didn't wield swords, though. She wielded lasers from her bare hands, just like Legend.
She blurred faster than light, even as she shot beams of light at the chalk-white girl with the huge, gleaming blue eyes. Her blades blocked the lasers the red-skinned woman with the head tails shot. More importantly, somehow the girl just seemed to know where to be, no matter how fast the red-skinned cape was.
Abruptly the vision/memory ceased. Taylor fell back against the cold asphalt, gasping. A few feet away, Mouse Protector also stumbled.
"What the actual fuck?" the hero shouted, spitting blood from the one good blow Taylor landed. "Chevalier said you were already a double trigger. What the fuck was that?"
Painfully, Taylor climbed to her feet. Even as she stood, she could feel the Force washing away her minor aches and begin healing her major ills. Somehow, she knew she needed a trance to completely heal, but she had strength left for this.
"Right," Mouse Protector said. "Enough playing with my food."
With preternatural agility and skill, Mouse Protector blurred forward not with a wild swing, but with a powerful, perfectly controlled thrust of her blade right toward Taylor's stomach.
Taylor simply surrendered to the feeling in the back of her mind. It wasn't so much that she knew consciously what Mouse Protector was about to do. Rather, the Force did. And with its power flooding her veins, her body did as well. She spun along-side the blade, so close she could feel it cutting through her stolen hoody. Her movements felt both intentional and passive as the Force guided her in her desire. She completed the tight spin with an elbow not to Mouse Protector's helmet-covered head, but her neck. In the same motion, she kicked down on the cape's right knee.
The elbow landed, the kick did not. Once again Mouse Protector managed to jump away from the kick, rolling before blinking away. Taylor jumped into the air, borne aloft by the strange new command of her power, just as Mouse Protector appeared with a thrust that would have impaled her through the back.
She kicked both her feet down on the other cape's head before somersaulting to the asphalt. She immediately gripped Mouse Protector with her telekinesis and flung her up into the air in a high arc that ended with the cape's head slamming into the asphalt with a loud, horrific crunch.
Mouse Protector didn't get up. With a wave of her hand, Taylor summoned the cape's sword, then the sheath itself. In the Force, she could feel nothing from the hero. Stumbling, Taylor knelt down to check Mouse Protector's pulse.
She felt life from the cape through her power. However, she could also feel how terribly hurt the cape was. Her neck was broken. If she lived, it would be as a quadriplegic.
"Better hope Panacea can help you, you bitch," Taylor growled at her.
She stood tiredly and with a wave summoned her back pack. All around her, spectators and police simply stood watching. Taylor knew the police were not supposed to intercede in cape fights, but she wasn't sure she could dodge too many bullets. More importantly, she had no doubt more capes were coming. She had to get out of this town, wherever it was.
The Force told her she could fly, but not like Glory Girl back home, or Alexandria. It would take constant effort and concentration. She didn't see where that would help. But with that same bit of knowledge came another skill that would be much, much more practical.
Taylor started running toward the line of police and spectators. She didn't have any intention of hurting them, but beyond them she could see the buildings of a small city in the distance behind them. Her best chance of getting out was through the city.
The spectators began backing away. A few people shouted in alarm, but those shouts turned into open screams when suddenly Taylor accelerated so fast the cold wind whipped at her hair. The world narrowed to a tunnel around her, focusing only on those people and objects in her way, and suddenly they were behind as well as they scattered and let her through.
Everything narrowed into a tunnel that abruptly focused on an impossibly beautiful, alien woman who floated down from the sky a few hundred feet in front of her. The cape was tall, taller even than Taylor, with long, flowing white hair. A single violet crystal horn protruded from her forehead, while her otherwise perfectly proportioned body was covered by strategically placed crystalline scales that formed an enticing, revealing suit of armor. The crystalline scales formed a sharp, frightening claw out of her right hand. The Force screamed at Taylor about the danger she faced, as if she didn't already know. She slowed, allowing the world to come back into focus around her.
Narwhal looked beautiful. She stood like a Norse Valkyrie, or a goddess draped in violet crystals that shimmered beautifully in the weak morning sun's light. She landed with a graceful arc of her right foot and simply stood looking at Taylor, her arms hanging loose and ready at her sides.
There were tens of thousands of capes around the world that Taylor couldn't have named if her life depended on it. However, some capes were more memorable than others. Case in point was Narwhal, the woman who teamed with Dragon to rebuild a failed Canadian Guild into an organization mentioned in the same breath as the Protectorate and King's Men. If Taylor remembered her Parahumans Online Summary correctly, Narwhal created crystalline forcefields that she could project like bullets, or to shield herself. She could use them to even fly, as Taylor just saw.
Most importantly, she could create forcefields within a person's body, killing them instantly.
The brittle silence ended with Narwhal's voice. It sounded deep, strong and so utterly feminine it made Taylor blush. It was the same voice that called the Schaefer's.
Please fight. Please fight. "If you surrender peacefully, I won't hurt you." Please fight. Give me a reason to hurt you.
The hero was so confident her words didn't sound arrogant, but rather she sounded like a mother giving her wayward child an ultimatum—behave or get spanked. The sheer absurdity of her situation ripped a sob from Taylor's throat.
"Can you promise the same for all the monsters in the Birdcage?"
I hope they rip you to pieces. "I can promise you that if you fight me, they'll have a lot easier time finishing you off than if you don't. Put Mouse Protector's sword down, get on your knees, and put your hands over your head."
She sounded as hard and cold as the crystals she used. Taylor could sense her thoughts. They envisioned a distorted, not-quite right image of a much older-looking Taylor screaming as an acid-based villain in the Birdcage melted her feet. The vision made Taylor wonder if Narwhal knew how young she really was.
Or if she cared.
Once again Taylor felt that sinking feeling of apathy, just like she felt on the jet. She pulled the sword from its sheath, and then slipped the sheath behind her back pack.
"If you want to see a fifteen-year-old girl dead, at least have the courage to do it yourself," Taylor said.
She started walking toward the cape.
Narwhal did not hesitate even a second. She flung out her hands and blasted the air with a cloud of razor-sharp crystalline forcefields that flew nearly as fast as bullets. The Force guided Taylor's body as she deflected some with the sword, while spinning and dodging those she did not shatter with what she now suspected was a Tinker-made sword. It felt too light, and was able to shatter the crystals too easily, to be anything else.
She asked for it.
Narwhal's thought rang in Taylor's mind as the tall, statuesque cape launched herself in the air, bunching her legs up under body as she surrounded herself in a forcefield bubble, while at the same time blasting the air with hundreds of crystalline bullets.
Rather than try to dodge or deflect, Taylor attacked. With a flex of her legs and a blast of the Force, she launched herself right at Narwhal, avoiding the fusillade of projectiles. The tall cape's eyes widened comically as Taylor swung her sword mid-somersault over Narwhal's head, shattering the part of her horn that projected outside of her force bubble.
She landed on her feet, but rather than fight, Taylor pushed herself into a run toward the city. Behind her, Narwhal slammed into the asphalt with a heavy thud and an angry scream before launching herself back in the air.
As fast as Taylor could run, Narwhal flew faster. Her rage felt like a hot sun burning Taylor's neck, quickly gaining ground. Still sunk deeply within the Force, Taylor accepted its guidance and spun to one side as a long, micron-thick forcefield flat to the ground formed right where her stomach would have been.
That could have cut her torso in half.
Twice more Taylor dodged lethal forcefields, all the while intensely aware of how close the cape was. She'd held some small hope that maybe she could outrun Narwhal and escape into the city, but she realized now that the older cape was too fast and too powerful to simply run away from.
Visions of power percolated through her mind. She acted more from instincts that weren't even hers than from any conscious thought.
With Narwhal only meters behind, firing her crystal bullets and trying to bisect her with forcefields, Taylor suddenly stopped, spun, flung out both arms and screamed as the Force coalesced around her body in a massive cloud of blue lightning.
Narwhal had only a split second to be surprised as the crystal she had on her hand flew at Taylor, just as the Force-lightning blasted into her exposed face and chest. She flew backward in a wild, uncontrolled pinwheel and landed with a heavy, rolling thud twenty feet away.
Taylor felt her right leg tremble and fell to the ground, confused at first over why she fell. She looked down and saw her thigh muscle hanging open almost to the bone, like a slab of freshly carved meat ready for the grill. Blood began pouring out of it even as she stared.
A second later the pain hit. Taylor leaned over the leg and screamed in agony. In the distance, police cars quickly approached. Narwhal remained where she fell, her crystal scales conspicuously absent to reveal a tight skin-colored body-suit in her unconscious state, but that didn't help Taylor.
With shaking, blood-red hands Taylor began desperately digging in her bag until she found one of Stacy's old shirts. She wrapped the wound was best she could before using the Force to help herself stand. All around, the world wavered and darkened on the periphery of her vision as the blood rushed from her head.
"No," she hissed to herself. "NO!"
The highway was so close. Tanker trucks filled with North Dakota oil and refined gasoline went west, passing under an overpass only a few hundred yards away. Too hurt to walk, Taylor gathered the Force about herself and levitated just inches of the ground. While she could have run three times as fast healthy, levitating now was far faster than an agonizing limp.
Police barricades had stopped all traffic to the overpass, so she had no obstacles. More importantly, the police were terrified of her. While it was difficult to always take Mouse Protector seriously, Narwhal was considered to be almost a Triumvirate-level cape and Taylor beat her.
They backed off and let her fly just inches off the ground, grinding her teeth with the effort the constant concentration required of her. This was not what her power was meant for, but it was her only hope.
Once she reached the overpass, she looked for one of the oil tanker tricks with the largest rig, and simply dropped over the overpass onto it. The driver didn't stop, but she could feel him start to decelerate. It was a simple matter with the Force to lower herself over the side, unlock the passenger door, and climb in.
She found herself facing the muzzle of a very large handgun. "Get the fuck off my truck," a deep voice growled.
Taylor didn't hesitate, not even for a breath. She washed over his conscious thoughts until he lowered the gun and stepped on the gas.
"You'll forget I was in your cab," she said. "You'll keep driving until you reach your destination. You won't notice anything in your sleeper cab."
Dully, without looking from the road, the driver repeated everything she said.
Taylor climbed painfully back into the bearded driver's sleeper cab. It smelled awfully of cigarette smoke, alcohol and the stench of a large man who did not bathe regularly. She climbed into the bed anyway. She could feel blood soaking through her impromptu bandage, but was suddenly so exhausted even the idea of moving brought tears to her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to the air before she passed out.
A/N: Those who read my fics solely for the sake of finding something to complain about might look at this chapter and snipe bitterly about how Taylor was abused.
Those who read it because they actually want a story might look at it and say to themselves "Holy shit. She beat Mouse Protector and Narwhal."