A/N: Chap 38 review responses are in my forums. And since at least one reviewer didn't see the note, as a reminder I'll be posting both Saturday mornings and Tuesday evenings until Quintessence is done. My little contribution to those stuck in quarantine. Which means if you didn't see anything Tuesday, you may have two chapters to read instead of one.
As a note for the remainder of the story-We will be getting some more fights and action, but I'll also admit I was a little self-indulgent. I have several chapters of Taylor "adulting" and learning to fit back into the world. They don't radically advance the plot, and if I were a professional and seeking paid publication, I might even cut the chapters. But this is fanfiction, and it's the daily life aspects of a cape that I enjoyed exploring the most.
So, welcome back to school, Quintessence.
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Another Brick in the Wall
Taylor parked her brand-new Harley Davidson Street Glide motorcycle in the student lot next to the high school's football stadium. The bike had a 96-inch motor with a six-speed transmission and made a satisfying purr when she brought it to one of the available parking spots in the student lot. It wasn't a hoverbike (not yet), but for now it would get her where she wanted to go.
She stored her helmet and riding leathers in one of the bike's two lockable storage compartments before settling back and studying her environment. It was Wednesday, September 28th, and today was Taylor's first day of school in Seattle.
Across the street, busses filled the drop off drive at the front of the school, while crowds of children from the edge of the exclusion zone all the way down to Roxbury Heights made their way into the building.
In a fast-contracting economy, the city school district couldn't afford to maintain so many schools. What resulted was a single mega-high school with two thousand more students than it was ever built to handle, and an equally overcrowded middle school beside it.
From the outside, though, it looked just like any school. That is, until she saw the first news van pull up. More came, a van from the four major broadcast networks plus a couple of cable networks. Of course the reporters would want to cover the story of the Winslow Simurgh returning to school.
Taylor pulled her hair back with a clip and slipped on her red-tinted sunglasses. She fell in with another group of students, her mostly empty back-pack thrown over one shoulder, and projected a sense of normality in the Force.
She was just another student.
Reporters were gathered on the street across from the school front, careful not to set foot on the school at all. Some were already posing questions to a few of the students. None looked up as Taylor walked right on by.
Occasionally she got a glance from some of the other students. She'd dressed as non-descript as she could—jeans and a loose turquoise blouse with the sleeves pulled up over her elbows. They looked away, though, when her suggestion in the Force convinced them she was just another student.
She did experience a moment of déjà vu when she reached the doors. Just inside, four armed police officers were guiding lines of students through four separate sets of tinker-tech metal and explosives detectors. Granted, Winslow High couldn't afford Tinker-Tech devices to scan for explosives as well as just metal, but Dragon was just a few hours away from Seattle.
The noise struck Taylor like a brick. The smells assaulted her nose and she felt a headache coming on as she had to shield against the assault of thoughts and feelings. She'd never been around so many people since she triggered, and the mental pressure felt like a concrete slab on her head.
Cops and teachers were shouting directions and instructions at students, while the students talked loudly among themselves. Being crushed in with other teens was not pleasant. Her senses reached out instinctively for any threats, but all she sensed were nervous, excited or bored kids making their way through security.
"Sunglasses off!"
She turned and saw one of the cops looking at her. It was a brief glance only.
"Remove any head gear. Everyone must be able to see your face at all times. Sunglasses off. Remove…" He'd singled her out because of her glasses, but his message was a rote script he wasn't even really thinking about.
Rather than remove the glasses, she made a show of adjusting them before continuing on her way. She got through the screening, but realized with a start that she didn't know where to go.
She fixated on one of the teachers directing the huge press of student traffic and let her suggestion drop. In such a huge stream of bodies, even the extraordinary could be lost. And it wasn't like she was wearing a costume. She made her way through the traffic until she reached the woman.
"Excuse me, I'm a new student. I'm not sure where to go."
"When did you register?" the teacher said. "And please remove the sunglasses."
Figuring the damage was done, Taylor slipped her sunglasses off so the woman could see her pure black eyes. "The PRT registered me for classes last Friday."
The woman burned with a surge of almost abject terror, followed very quickly by anger. This woman wanted nothing to do with Taylor, and was outraged that she was even in the school.
"Ma'am," Taylor said, dropping her voice just above the background noise in the hall. "I'm just a student. Can you please tell me where to go?"
The teacher got control of herself, though she did a poor hiding her distaste. "New students have to check in at the front office. Behind you, second door on your right."
"Thank you."
Despite the teacher's request, Taylor slipped her sunglasses back on and went against the flow of bodies until she reached the indicated door.
Within the front office she stepped into another boiling space filled with loud voices with parents trying to either register their kids late or take them out or other functions. She heard mostly Spanish and a smattering of Japanese. The three ladies manning the front desk looked frazzled. All of them spoke Spanish; none of them spoke Japanese.
Across the narrow space between the doors and the administrative desks she saw students without parents clutching slips of paper like her own. She edged her way past the crowd of anxious parents and joined the other students.
"What's with the specs, skinny bitch?" The boy spoke Spanish, obviously not expecting her to answer.
"They're so I don't melt your tiny little brain with my laser eyes," she responded in kind.
The boy stared a moment before snickering. "Right."
When her turn came, she told the aide. "I'm a new student. I'm not sure what to do."
"Name?"
"Taylor Hebert."
The girl looked up at Taylor, squeaked, and fell out of her chair.
Taylor stared flatly. "Really?"
"I'm…sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't…."
Taylor rolled her eyes. "What, melt your brain?"
"Miss Caperton, that'll be enough."
A woman in a slimming pair of cream slacks and a navy-blue blouse stepped from the maze of offices. She wore a simple set of pearls and appeared to be in her forties, with feathered almond-colored hair and a narrow, pointed nose.
"Miss Hebert, I'm Doctor Ferris, the Principal of Chief Sealth. If you come with me, we'll get you all sorted."
Aware of the spreading silence behind her, Taylor nodded and followed the principal through the door next to the window of counselors and counselor aids, and into the maze of offices and cubes. After a short walk, they reached a surprisingly small office dominated by bookshelves, a large wooden desk and four comfortable padded chairs that left little walking room.
"Please have a seat."
Taylor did so.
Ferris stepped around her desk, smoothed her slacks and sat down. Her back was straight and she held her hands lightly clasped together on the clear spot of her desk near the slim computer monitor that took up a corner of the space.
"Our assistant superintendent sent what he could, but there are still some holes in your paperwork and placement. And just to let you know, Miss Hebert, district policy forbids the use of sunshades in school."
Taylor removed the lenses and stared at the older woman. "I'm not wearing them to look cool. I'm wearing them to try to limit the disruption and discomfort my eyes cause other students."
Rather than react like Winslow's principal might, Dr. Ferris merely nodded and gave it some thought.
"I understand. In fact, on some level I can even agree with your reasoning." She leaned forward, meeting Taylor's gaze unflinchingly. "But let me suggest an alternative thought. If I give you permission to wear sunglasses, you'll then stand out for having received special treatment. Especially when other students try to do the same but are stopped. This puts us both at a disadvantage, wouldn't you say?"
Having an authority figure actually explain their reasoning was a new and unusual experience for Taylor. She took a moment to consider before responding.
"The difference being you can't hear them thinking about how unfair you are, while I have to listen and sense them think about what a freak I am. I'd say I stand at a far greater disadvantage than you. And before you voice your next thought, just think about how little Miss Caperton responded to me. Or consider the utter hate and fear I felt from Mrs. Shondell in the hallway when I asked where to go. I assure you, that's not unique."
Ferris opened her mouth, but then closed it. She then completely surprised Taylor by nodding. "Okay, I can see that. I'll allow it, then, and when questioned we'll simply say they're prescription."
The acquiescence was so utterly alien to Taylor's past experiences in school that for a moment she could only stare in surprise. Rather than make an issue of it, the principal started typing on her computer, looking at her flat-screen monitor.
"I've been told that your transcript from New Hampshire is not a dependable record of your academic achievement. Instead, we looked at your time spent at the Youth Center. And your test results there were simply breathtaking. If not for the political circumstances of your case, I'd say you should have tested out if high school and begun college courses. Unfortunately, we both know that won't work."
The woman had very good posture as she turned to look back at her, Taylor noted. She stared intently again, and behind her eyes Taylor could sense a sharp, piecing intellect and genuine compassion.
"Miss Hebert, I know that this past year has been difficult for you. I can't pretend to know how you feel or understand what you've been through, but I suspect if left to your own devices you'd rather not be here. Moving past that, can you tell me what you want out of your education here?"
Taylor knew, without having to use the Force, that everything she told this woman would make its way to Dan Seneca or Director Foote. A part of her was so tempted to point out that the odds of her even surviving high school weren't high, since she was pre-committed to Endbringer fights. But if she did, that would trigger extra counseling session that Taylor had no interest in.
So, summoning up her best smile, she lied her ass off. "Mainly I'm interested in getting my degree so I can move on to more challenging collegiate STEM subjects."
Ferris was good, but she wasn't parahuman. She accepted the answer at face value. "With your test results I think that's an excellent plan. How are you on foreign languages?"
"I'm a telepath. I learn a language after a few conversations. So far I'm fluent in Spanish and Japanese with a fair smattering of Russian."
Ferris winced; once again Taylor had to give her credit for recognizing why Taylor Hebert would know a little Russian.
"Okay, that gives us some options as well. You can test out of that. You've already passed out of every STEM class we have, according to your AP scores from detention. What you're lacking are the other requirements. History, government, language arts. So, let's get you sorted for that. We do have you in the PRT-sponsored vocational program, so you'll be out before one each day."
She continued typing. "You've earned all three of your math and science credits. I think we can grant your physical fitness credits. Your vocational program will cover the CTE credits, so that's another one point five credits. Your computer credits from our previous school will give you another one point five. With your previous transcripts…we have you at 15 credits."
"What does that mean?"
"You need a minimum of twenty credits to graduate. I think…we can classify you as a junior. Three courses this year, and two next year, and I can have you graduated on time while still meeting the PRT vocational requirements."
That was far, far better news than Taylor would have believed. "What classes?"
"AP Word Affairs, AP Washington State History and Government, two AP English or Language Arts classes, and an elective." She pressed her mouse, and a split second later her printer spit something out which she handed over.
Taylor settled on a business accounting class to fill her days up. The principal's willingness to work with her was something Taylor found impressive.
"Okay, let's set it up. Your first class will be Mrs. Merrill in ELA."
By the time she left the principal's office, all the kids were in their first classes. Taylor followed the instructions to get her assigned books and find her locker. She was pleased to see that it would not be possible for anyone to fit in the half-locker.
What that all boiled down to, though, was that she was going to be entering her first class late.
She paused outside the second-floor door of the class. The halls were empty, the students all in their various rooms.
"I can do this," she whispered to herself.
Centering her mind in the Force, Taylor knocked on the door. When she heard the teacher call out, she stepped inside. The room held thirty students, she saw at a glance. They were packed into a space equipped for perhaps half that number.
"Mrs. Merrill?" Taylor asked, trying to sound confident. "I'm a new student."
She handed the slip to the teacher, who read the name with a resigned sigh before looking up and giving Taylor a frank smile.
"There's no point in hiding, Miss Hebert. Please introduce yourself to the class, then take a seat."
The teacher was right, of course. Already several of the kids already suspected just from the rumor mill and the reporters out front. She removed her sunglasses and let them all see her eyes.
"My name is Taylor Hebert. I'm your newest Ward. I am telepathic, and sometimes I can't always block out thoughts. So please keep your weird late-night fantasies to yourselves. The principal has agreed to let me keep the sunglasses on for now. Thank you."
With that, she walked to the only empty seat, which of course happened to be at the very front of the room.
"So, we were just talking about Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men…."
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
Bulldozers and a large boring machine were working in the mudflats a few blocks north of the house when Taylor got back. She left the paved road itself and rode carefully over the destroyed remnants of North Admiral. She recognized several of the men from the work on her own home.
She was also surprised to see Charles Scapetti standing next to Jorge Lopez, both of them holding what looked like a page of blue prints. She studied some of the men and saw that a small handful of the workers wore black slacks and grey button-up shirts, just like Scapetti did.
"Heya, stringbean," the elder agent said as Taylor dismounted her bike.
"Hola, Quintessencia," Maria's dad said with a smile.
"Your man here is good," Scapetti said. "I put in a word with the city for him. More important, he has a frickin' army of workers."
"Can I see?"
Jorge handed over the blue-prints. She saw the first dimensions and compared it to the knowledge in her head, then grinned.
"Extend the garage out another twenty meters and reinforce up to twent tones max load. We're going to have VTOL craft."
Scapetti raised a brow. "Says who?"
"Says me and Dragon," Taylor said. "The team's going to grow, Scapetti. The way Horizon explained it, we're going to be a complete PRT headquarters. So let's plan to build for the future. We have ten million in Fortress Construction dollars dedicated for the building, and we have an expert at making money stretch. Plan for a complete self-enclosed, gravity-fed water system using my vaporators, one of my molecular furnaces for all the energy we could want, and an automated, Tinker-based defense system with shields and chemical blaster-based weaponry."
Scapetti scoffed. "You think Costa-Brown's gonna go for that?"
"As long as the PRT's not paying for it but it's used to protect PRT agents?" Taylor grinned. "Anyway, got homework to do. It was a school day, you know. I'm just glad they postponed my press date."
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
"You know, using your stranger power to get out of interviews is bullshit," Sarah said from her office when Taylor got home.
"Being allowed to get a GED even though you're only a few months older than me is worse," Taylor countered.
"Yeah. I am pretty awesome. So! Horizon is coming over with Scapetti to vet possible team members. They're bringing food!"
Taylor was expecting pizza boxes or Chinese take-out. She wasn't expecting Maria Whitworth in full mom-mode to show up in her civvies carrying a massive glass baking dish filled with King Ranch Chicken casserole. Scapetti came behind carrying a large, garishly orange bowl of salad and a little bag of various dressings, and a third newcomer followed behind with a large pan of what looked and smelled like peach cobbler, with ice-cream in a bag in one hand and a large leather satchel in the other.
"Oh, dibs on the ice cream!" Sarah called.
"Not until after dinner," Maria said. "Show me the kitchen, girls, this is hot."
Taylor solved the problem by levitating it from her hand and leading the way.
"Oh, you have a lovely home," the newcomer said as she looked around-wide eyed. "It's so big!"
Scapetti started to chuckle. That's what she said, rang in his mind.
Taylor chose not to respond. They set up at the dining room table, where Sarah had already pulled out their plates.
"So, introductions," Maria said. "Taylor, Sarah, this is Amanda Calhoun. I want you to know that Director Antony in San Diego is still screaming at me for stealing her. I mean, seriously. Three voice mails just today. Amanda, this is Quintessence and Insight, or Taylor and Sarah in present company."
"Hello," Amanda said with a pleasant smile. She was a slightly plump woman with honey-blonde hair, thick lipstick and rose-colored frames on her large glasses. She even had the strap on them so they could hang from her neck.
"Amanda here is going to be our administrative support," Maria crowed. "Her official title is Protectorate Support Technician III. Every Protectorate team has an Amanda. Some are better than others. But few are as good as Amanda."
"Oh shush, you're making me blush," Amanda said. And she was, indeed, blushing. "Oh, that smells lovely! Let's eat!"
The five of them settled around the table, drinking tea and eating a casserole Taylor had to admit was as good as anything she, or her mom, could have cooked. She only saved room because the smell of the cobbler permeated the whole kitchen.
When dinner and dessert were consumed, Amanda pulled up her leather satchel and removed an intimidating stack of manila folders. Taylor was beginning to think the PRT ran on Manila folders.
"So, here comes the fun part!" Maria said.
Before any of them could say anything else, Sarah reached to the stack and started pulling folders out.
"Mujaji—Alexandria-package with a powerful blaster power with her electricity," Sarah said.
"Oh, I met her before Leviathan!" Taylor said. "I really liked her."
"She's a Ward," Horizon said.
"Just turned eighteen," Sarah said. "Like yesterday, right, Amanda?"
"That's why she's in the stack," the support tech said with almost inhuman enthusiasm.
Sarah reached again, like a Blackjack dealer fixing the deck.
"Vestibule," she said, grinning. "Mover 5. Creates portals, but only line of sight. That said, no limits to the number of people who go through them."
"Um, his file does have him flagged for behavioral issues," Amanda said. "He was put on probation twice for fights with his teammates in Los Angeles."
"Yeah, won't be an issue with us," Sarah said.
"And why is that?" Maria demanded.
"We're girls. He hates other men." Her grin sobered a little. "His trigger event was actually worse than yours, Taylor. Only, you got the power to fuck the world up. He got the power to run away from it. He's nineteen, and I think he'll do better with us."
"Well, my goodness, you're doing all my work!" Amanda said. Somehow, she sounded both put-out and encouraging.
"Sorry." Sarah lied, and made no effort in making the lie believable. "Anyway, he'll be perfect for group infiltration."
Maria nodded. "So, we have an Alexandria package, a Thinker/Striker with me, a…whatever the hell you are, Taylor, another thinker, a mover. What are we missing?"
"Two more," Lisa said. "First, considering what this team is for, is the kill shot." She once more pulled out one of Emily's folders. "Flechette, out of New York. She's a Ward under Legend, but she's turning 18 in two months and word on the webs is that she's unhappy."
"Why?" Taylor asked.
"She was at the Leviathan fight. Some of the other capes there saw she seemed to connect really well with Parian."
Taylor nodded. "And."
"She stayed on during that whole Echidna mess that happened about a month after you went into the clink. She took Echidna out—her power allows her to imbue a projectile with energy that makes it unstoppable. But only after Parian died. She then got into a fight with a villain who group-triggered with her, March. Killed her too. Since then she's had four reports and lost her license due to DWI. She needs stability, and maybe a little healing."
Horizon was looking through the various files. "And your last one?"
"The tank," Lisa said, grinning again. "Campanile. He just graduated the Wards in Chicago. He's like Alice without the drugs, and with a gravity-changing aura that lets him move like he was Jackie Chan, even when he's the size of Behemoth. He's a powerful brute when in his breaker state. But more importantly, look at his psych readings."
She pulled the man's file from Amanda's stack without looking. "Laid back, gets along well with his team. Despite being eight feet tall he's non-threatening. And I think he'd get along just fine with Vestibule."
"You know this would be a voluntary transfer," Maria said. "Not all of them are going to agree to this."
"Oh, sure they will," Sarah said. "This team is going to be self-funded, it's part of our agreement with Alexandria. We're Protectorate and PRT in name only. That medical schematic Taylor licensed to Dragon? That's going to revolutionize prosthetics and make her a fortune. That money I got from Coil? I'm posting 19% returns on average. We're going to pay our people very well, Maria. More importantly, we're not going to just be wandering around looking good. We're going to be fixing things. Believe me, they're going to want to join."
"So, who would we ask first?" Taylor asked.
"The surest bet," Sarah said. "Mujaji."