A/N: Review Responses are in my forums as normal. Thanks for reading.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Oh, What I have Seen With Your Eyes
Ouria.
With the name came the image of a face. Oblong, wide in the forehead and narrowing down to her chin. Bone-white skin with large, glistening eyes of a blue not seen in humans. Hair the color of freshly fallen snow hung in a knot from the back of a skull lined in the intricate black tattoos of her culture.
Ouria was near-human—she was Dathomiri. Nor was she a teenager like Taylor—when Coruscanti fell she was in her fifties. She'd taken lovers and even had a child of her own, whom she'd loved and trained into the Order. She was a Bendu master at the end of the last Republic—one of the last masters of a Force tradition going back tens of thousands of years. The name had changed from Jedi and Sith to Bendu, but always the Force remained.
Taylor was not Ouria. And yet she somehow had all of her memories. Like a broken door, she saw inside the house of her mind to where her skills and knowledge came from. Always before she just thought it was her power—like other capes she thought she simply had an intuitive understanding.
But that wasn't the case. What her power did was attune her body to the Force so thoroughly that she had power like no other Jedi, Sith or Bendu had before. And to harness that power, somehow, she had the memories and training of the last, greatest Master of the Force. Her ability to build advanced technology did not come from a tinker power, but rather the knowledge, superb education and training of a Force-sensitive polymath.
I am infected.
All thought ground to a halt. All emotions stopped. The only aspect of her mind that existed concentrated on that one singular thought.
I am infected. Scion is a…leviathan. A monster. And I carry one of his seeds in me. And when he chooses to move on, he'll rip that seed from my skull and I'll die. Me and everyone else on this earth. On this and every other permutation of this Earth.
"I know you're awake."
Taylor opened her eyes cautiously. The room had only dim lighting—a single lamp on a desk at the far end of the room. By that light she saw a girl sitting next to her bed.
The girl might have been pretty—beautiful, even—if not for the horrific burns that ran from the center of her skull down the left side of her face, down over her shoulders and left arm. She wore a white tube-top with an improvised strap over her right shoulder to leave the scarred flesh uncovered and untouched.
"Water." Taylor's throat felt like sandpaper, and her voice sounded the same—raspy and dry.
She turned her head and accepted the straw that provided a mouthful of lukewarm water. She swallowed it greedily, before pulling on more. The water in her stomach suddenly made her conscious of a deep pain that started in her gut, but then seemed to radiate out as she became aware of more aches and pains across her body.
"I bet you're hungry. I think Eidolon gave you a metabolism boost or something—you healed a lot faster than even your power would allow, but I could see you getting skinnier in the process. Here, sit up."
The girl offered Taylor her good arm, and she had no choice but to accept in order to sit up. The burned girl propped some pillows behind her, allowing her to sit mostly upright. Doing so made Taylor realize she was on the bottom half of a bunk bed. As the girl stood and walked to a rolling cart with a tray of food, she glanced around and saw concrete walls, a prison-style toilet and water fountain in one corner, and a television just visible under the support bars of the top bunk.
"This isn't the Birdcage," the girl said, somehow anticipating Taylor's question.
Taylor should have been terrified at the idea, but instead all she felt emotionally was numbness. The aching in her limbs and gut came almost as a relief—a note to make her think she was real, and not back in another woman's memories.
She returned with a tray of food—a bowl of rich chowder and Johnny cakes, with a large bottle of sports drink.
"Eat," the girl said. "You need the calories."
Taylor ate, dismayed at first by how her hand trembled. "Who are you?"
"Name's Lisa. And for your next question, you're here because you've been publicly unmasked. It was a shitty situation—the Triumvirate were right there and seemed like they wanted to defend you, but they would have lost at trial. The state prosecutor had an arrest warrant and had Armsmaster and Chevalier with him to enforce it. The Triumvirate wanted you, but not enough to fracture the Protectorate. So…we snatched you away."
"We?"
"We, Ms. Hebert." The voice emerged from hidden speakers, diffused through the room evenly enough that Taylor had a hard time discerning a direction. She reached out her senses, and felt many interesting minds, but none were that of the speaker. "My name is Coil. And I could not just sit by and watch a hero who just saved an entire hospital placed under arrest."
Taylor racked her brain for the name Coil. She knew all about the Empire Eighty-Eight and the Azian Bad-Boys. The whole city knew about the Merchants. "I've never heard of you."
"I consider that a good thing, Ms. Hebert. I cannot claim to be a costumed hero, nor would I insult your intelligence by doing so. If I were to draw a similarity to others of my type, I would say I share similar goals and approaches to my friend Accord. I very much want to make Brockton Bay a better place, but I have limited trust in being able to do so within a broken system."
Accord, Taylor knew. A thinker in Boston, Accord was wanted for several murders, but for some reason the Protectorate could never pin anything on him. He was like the ultimate mafia boss, only with a power that somehow made it very hard to pin any crimes on him.
"And did Lisa upset you like his victims upset Accord?" she asked.
Lisa snorted.
"Tattletale here had a tragic encounter with Lung. She is the only survivor of a band of teenaged capes called the Undersiders. Though I must confess I share some responsibility for her injuries. My power is usually sufficient to ensure those I work with are safe, but in her case I failed. I applied my power to another mission, and as a result she lost her teammates and suffered the injuries you see now. Injuries which, if I understand correctly, you could heal for reasonable compensation."
Taylor glanced to the door.
"Coil, I'm sitting in a prison cell. I don't feel particularly generous right now."
"I understand your apprehension. These facilities were built for secrecy, not comfort. However, if you try you will find the door is unlocked. You and Tattletale are not my prisoners. You can leave at any time. However, before you do so, please understand what will happen."
With a scowl that looked positively ghoulish with her scars and ruined left eye, Lisa reached under the food cart and removed a folded-up newspaper. It wasn't a Brockton Bay Paper. It wasn't even a Boston Paper. It was the New York Times.
Her soaking wet, blood-soaked face was on the front page.
Winslow Simurgh Embarrasses Protectorate.
Taylor forced herself to start eating the admittedly good stew as she read the article. She recognized the journalist who wrote it because she often wrote opinion pieces on the NYT page of Parahumans Online.
Costa-Brown had to do congressional hearings? The article read like an assassination piece against the entire PRT and Protectorate, and painted Taylor as an unrepentant murderer. It completely glossed over the fact that she worked as a healer in Seattle, instead going into graphic detail over how many Russian soldiers she killed, or that Tekiya foot soldier in Bayview West.
"Prosecutor Bill Epstein reiterated his commitment to ensuring that Taylor Hebert was remanded to the Baumann Parahuman Containment facility as originally ordered by the court. 'We cannot continue to allow murderous villains like this to make a mockery of our laws and courts. The state of New Hampshire is prepared to see justice done, even if the PRT and Protectorate are not!'"
She set the paper aside and forced herself to take a deep breath. As much as she just wanted to sit and think, her stomach demanded that she continue eating.
As she did so, Lisa spoke.
"They really did want you. Costa-Brown testified before a joint committee that Piggot just plain screwed up with you, and that your sentence was a mistake."
"Then why are they still calling for my blood?"
Coil answered from the speakers.
"Because Rebecca Costa-Brown has ruled the PRT for over 18 years and run roughshod over federal agencies from ICE to the FBI. And in those 18 years, despite amassing an agency larger than the FBI, NSA, and CIA combined, Nilbog remains a threat. The Slaughterhouse Nine roam free. And here, the city is still torn apart on a daily basis by parahuman gangs. The people of this country, and their elected leaders, are sick of the complacency of the Protectorate and PRT. And you, unfortunately, have become a tool for them to focus their anger on. That's why you could never receive a fair trial. That's why any question of guilt or innocence is largely irrelevant. You've been found guilty in the court of public opinion."
"Tell me how you really feel," Taylor muttered.
Lisa snorted again—it appeared to be the closest she could come to laughing.
"My apologies. As you can see, the subject is one I feel strongly about. Which is why I took the risk I did in saving you."
"So, you saved me out of compassion. Thank you." Taylor didn't bother to hide her sarcasm. "When the Elite helped me escape the Protectorate in Seattle, they had certain expectations. I have to assume that as altruistic as you are, that you have expectations of me?"
"I would be a foolish man if I didn't, Ms. Hebert. But for now, all I expect of you is to rest and recover. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Taylor looked down, taking advantage of the break in conversation to eat. Only, the stew was gone, as were the johnny cakes.
"Don't worry, dinner's in an hour," Lisa said with a smile.
"Are you my jailer, then?"
She shook her head, though she winced a little as the motion pulled her scars.
"No, I'm your roommate. That food's gonna hit you like a brick in a few minutes. So, I'm gonna let you rest. I have a hot game of solitaire calling my name."
She took the tray away and put it back on the cart. Taylor watched as the other girl walked to the door and opened it, shoving the cart into the hall.
Five minutes later, just like Lisa warned, she was asleep.
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
The sob and creaking of metal springs from the bunk above woke Taylor.
Taylor slept right through dinner. When she did wake up, it was to the sound of a whimper and the creak of springs.
Lisa turned in her sleep, snoring and then whimpering a little before shifting positions. Taylor sensed the girl's dreams—dreams of a monster laughing at her while it touched her with fire. It's touched burned off her skin, while an emotionless figure in Japanese devil mask held her down.
Taylor quickly shied away from the nightmare. Instead, she reached out with her mind across Coil's base.
The sheer number of mercenaries in the facility surprised her. She sensed at least two hundred soldiers. They felt hard in the Force—professional and deadly like the Russians in Seattle. More importantly, she felt others as well. At least two girls and three guys, from their thoughts not much older than she was. They were all embroiled in mixed feelings of resentment, bitterness and guilt.
That guilt trailed down to a space below the other levels, to something that felt horrifying to Taylor. The Force itself rebelled against the creature below, which seemed to hold the echo of a human girl caught within the dying shard of a leviathan.
Just like Lisa's nightmare, she pulled away from the Lovecraftian nightmare given flesh, and found herself looking closer by.
That's when she felt a familiar mind. Dinah.
The girl from her odd memory of a dying Coruscant did not feel telepathic, not at all. But something about her power synergized with the Force. It was as if she were reaching just a second into the future to leave messages for Taylor, and inviting Taylor to do the same. While it was all a function of pre-cognition, the end result felt very much like an enhanced telepathic bond, similar to what she shared with Yuki.
Dinah's thoughts felt sluggish and heavy with drugs and the early hour, but clear regardless.
You're real. You're here.
Yes. Are you okay?
Tired. Head hurts.
Me too.
What we saw…there's a 93% chance the world ends. In our lifetime.
I know.
You know what Scion is.
Yes.
You're the key. I can't see how or why, but the numbers say if we live, it's because of you. Please try not to die.
I'll do my best.
Coil's here. I have to…
Wait! Open your mind, to me, Dinah. Let me see.
More than even Yuki when the two meditated together, something about Dinah lent itself to Taylor's power with such seamless effectiveness that the instant she thought of the request, she found herself looking out on another room with another person's eyes.
This room looked identical to Taylor's and Lisa's, only smaller. Instead of a bunk bed, it held a single steel-frame and mattress. There was a television in the upper corner and the same type prison-style toilet and sink in the other that Taylor saw in her own room. It held no desk, nor a computer, nor any other furnishings. It was a prison cell.
The heavy steel door swung upon. With Dinah's eyes, she saw a heavily armed soldier that Dinah knew was named Dimitri just stepping out of the way, before a new figure emerged into the room.
Whether it was Dinah's own emotions or Taylor's instincts, something about the man felt repulsive. Whether it was the fact that his body suit was so thin and tight that she could see his ribs, or the bulge in his crotch, he just appeared disgusting. The costume was all black, with a white snake-figure sewed in such a way that it looked like it was wrapped around his stick-like frame. His faceless cowl only hinted at his narrow features.
For a sickening second, Taylor feared that Dinah was about to get assaulted.
That fear faded quickly. Without words, Dinah shared with Taylor memories and images, and in none of them did Coil ever even touch her. What really bothered Taylor the most about his appearance, though, was that it held no substance in the Force. She couldn't feel him with her power, even if she could see him through Dinah's eyes just a few doors away.
"It's morning, pet. You know what questions I ask you."
Dinah knew the question—they'd been burned into Dinah's consciousness for the past two weeks of her captivity. Taylor could see the futures spanning out in front of Dinah, with a clarity and detail that left her breathless and numbed. Rather than try to parse out any one future, Dinah's power somehow sorted them according to the individual question, arriving at a set percentage of futures that met those guidelines.
The answers, though, seemed to flow around Taylor herself. In future after future, she saw herself try to escape and kill Coil. In almost all the futures, she failed to even find him, and in every future she saw the back of her skull explode. Again and again.
Seeing that future impacted it. She determined that she would not try to escape anytime soon, and just that decision profoundly changed the possible futures.
"Pet, answer me."
Dinah responded. Taylor heard the girl's weak, wistful answer. "Zero point two nine four percent chance there's any problems here in the next hour. Three point two six four percent chance there's any problems before lunchtime."
"Good girl. Two more questions."
Dinah's power hurt her. Through their connection Taylor could feel the little girl's headache already progress beyond even her own pain from her injuries.
"Candy? It hurts."
"No, pet. It's too early. Two more questions. Will Taylor Hebert cooperate with me this morning."
Futures spanned out. He was going to be testing Taylor. She determined to cooperate, and again the future changed.
"Ninety-eight point nine two six percent chance she cooperates." Dinah gasped out the answer. "Candy, please," she whimpered. "It hurts bad."
"Maybe after lunch, Pet. One more question, and then we're done. What are the odds that Taylor Hebert can be trusted to join my organization?"
More futures. Almost all of them had Taylor hunting down or killing Coil, or dying in the process. It made her realize then that he wasn't unkillable, only that the circumstances had to be right. However, those futures also shifted even as she and Dinah viewed them, to Coil flooding the room she and Lisa stayed in with a lethal, invisible gas.
Dinah had to answer. She had to tell Coil that there was a near 100% chance that Taylor could betray and kill him. But just answering the question resulted in Taylor's immediate death.
With desperation and determination, Taylor pushed harder into their link, until she intercepted the words that Dinah's power required be said and spoke her own instead. "Eighty-nine point three two six percent chance she is loyal to your organization."
Coil stood motionless for the longest time, save for the subtle expansion of his and the slight puffing of his mask when he breathed. "That number is higher than before we captured her. What changed?"
"Candy. Hurts. Please?"
Coil crossed his arms across his narrow, bony chest and tapped his forefinger against his chin. "Interesting. The girl is lesbian, if the reports from Seattle are to be believed. And I have her with…oh. Oh, how interesting. Pet, last question, and then I promise you candy. What are the chances that I can control Hebert through Tattletale?"
Again, Taylor took control. Rather than give the abysmal numbers that Dinah's power revealed, she said, "Eighty-eight point nine two one percent chance."
"Almost identical," Coil said. He chuckled to himself. "And Tattletale probable knew it when she first saw Hebert. I'll control the more powerful one through her affection for the weaker. You've done well, Pet. I'll have Pitter come with candy."
Abruptly, he was gone. He didn't teleport, he was simply gone. Taylor could sense Dimitri in another part of the base, as if he'd never walked down the hall to open the door. Even the worst of Dinah's pain seemed to have abated. Her whole perception lurched, as if the last few minutes never happened. And yet she remembered them, and because of her bond with Dinah, the little girl did too.
Dinah, what was that?
His power. Every morning he asks questions, and then erases it. Ever since he took me from mom and dad.
Taylor didn't miss Coil's language about her. She was a captive, no matter what he said.
Some of your visions showed my head exploding.
You saw? Wow. That was the bomb going off in your head. He recruited a bomb maker, and she put bombs in your head in case you tried to hurt him, or escape
That news chilled her to the bone. A bomb in her head? Almost unconsciously, she merged herself with Dinah's incredible vision again, directing it without asking questions. Against a myriad of futures spanned out before her, and auditing those futures revealed the truths of her condition. Coil had a trigger, his captain Dimitri had a trigger, and Coil himself had a dead-man switch.
That didn't hurt, Dinah said. She sounded awestruck.
I'll try not to ever hurt you, Dinah. But I've got to find a way to escape and…
Dinah's power spanned out again, shaped by the conditions of Taylor's request. And in almost all of them, Yuki simply walked into the base to save her. And three quarters of the time, the act of doing so resulted in Taylor's head exploding.
Eighty one percent, Dinah confirmed.
Taylor guided her new young friend into the nineteen percent of scenarios where her head didn't explode.
Panacea and New Wave.
Astonishingly, just the act of realizing that began changing the odds. You are amazing, Dinah. If we get out of here it'll be as much because of you as me. Be strong.
You too.
She let the connection fade, trying not to think about how much pain the little girl was in, or how much the connection exhausted Taylor.
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
The door opened almost as soon as Lisa finished her morning toilet in the corner. She didn't even blink at his intrusion. The man didn't carry anything but a baton. He wore no armor, just dark green cargo pants and a tight black T-shirt that revealed a lean, muscular torso. He wore a pointed goatee on his long chin, and the center of his head gleamed under the lights with an absence of hair.
This was Dimitri, then, Taylor realized. The guard Dinah recognized.
"Come with me, please," he said to Taylor.
The hall outside their room appeared to be plain concrete. She counted a total of four doors, all to her right, and a fifth at the end of the hall. The space bristled with three separate cameras and lines in the floor she suspected were sensors of some kind. He led her to the last door to her right, just inside the fifth.
Inside a man sat slumped unconscious in a metal chair. He would have fallen if not for the very secure ropes holding him up. A simple metal table separated him from the door. Opposite his seat was another plain, silvery metal chair.
She sat at the soldier's motion and he took up a position behind her, arms crossed over a broad chest.
"Good morning, Ms. Hebert," Coil said from the room's hidden speakers. "Yesterday we spoke about altruism and the state of the city. You asked what I wanted? This is a taste of what I am hoping you might do for my organization. You see, this gentleman is Joschka Steinmeier, lately of Grafenhainichen, Germany. Mr. Steinmeier is a Nazi. And by that, I mean he is a member of the militant arm of the revived National Socialist German Worker's Party, also known as Gessellschaft.
"Mr. Steinmeier happens to know when we can expect the arrival of the Anne-Marie, a privately chartered luxury yacht that just happens to be carrying twenty-three tons of small arms, explosives and some suspected tinker-tech. It was my hope, based on past descriptions of your power, that you could find within this man's mind where and when the Anne Marie will enter the United States."
She was there, out of her room, solely because of what Dinah told him. And so she chose to continue the charade without hesitation. She stabbed into the unconscious man's mind without mercy. He jerked in the chair, moaning in pain even while unconscious.
"Pier 23, Dock 2, just after midnight tonight," she said.
There was a long moment of silence. "Just like that, Ms. Hebert?"
"What, were you expecting a lightshow? It's telepathy. I went in, planted a suggestion he was running late, and he thought about how to get to the pier."
"I see. Could you…control him, perhaps?"
Taylor shook her head. "I can plant suggestions, but if they run counter to his core beliefs he could break them. I'm not like Heartbreaker, I can't control people remotely like that. And if he's had conditioning, the suggestion would only last a few minutes, if at all."
Behind her, she could feel a surge of relief from the mercenary.
"I see. Well, this has been most illuminating. Dimitri will take you back to your room, after which, if you would like, you're more than welcome to join the other residents in the mess hall for breakfast. I understand the French toast is quite excellent."
"Will you be there?"
"Unfortunately, not. As you might imagine, I am a very busy man. We may meet in time, but for now our communications will be remote. However, understand that trust is earned. As you trust me, so I will trust you. You did quite well under the Elite in Washington. Rest assured, if you choose to join my organization, you will be handsomely rewarded."
"I understand. I'm still tired, so I'm going to go lay down. Maybe I can drag Lisa out for lunch."
"That would be thoughtful. Since her injuries, she's not been out of that room. Your company may be just what she needs to live again."
Taylor fought hard not to smirk. "Couldn't hurt to ask."
Coil might have been a supervillain, but he didn't know jack shit about how girls thought.