A/N: It's Tuesday. Welcome to your special Coronavirus-edition of Quintessence. As a reminder, i'll be posting twice weakly in honor of all those readers stuck at home until the story is done. Meanwhile, review responses are in my forums as normal.
Enjoy.
Chapter Forty: The Play's the Thing
Taylor meditated in the small anteroom just outside the press room of the PRT Headquarters building. She wore her new Wards costume.
Courtmanche did a good job, she thought. The boots were a brown leather that were based on the standard-issue PRT boots but softened because of the color and texture of the material. The tan-colored slacks hung loose from her waist with plenty of hidden pockets. Like the tunic, the slacks were made from a dense tinker-tech material that made them tear and even stab proof. They didn't provide much ballistic protection without plate armor, but Taylor didn't plan on much combat in the costume.
A little half-skirt hung from her narrow waist, open at the front and just long enough to cover her rear. Its interior pockets held the various wrist-ties, her phone, and other equipment.
Her tunic fit snugly—a little too tight for her modesty but not too tight to restrict movement. Courtmanche informed her that her focus group scores went up when they could positively identify her as female.
"Really?" she'd asked in a flat tone. "The hair doesn't give it away?"
Courtmanche shrugged with an apologetic smile. "Taylor, your power and your history are frightening. Softening your appearance to emphasize the fact that you're a lovely young woman can only help. As you pointed out, this is your PR costume."
So, her tunic was tight. The brown half-jacket that matched her boots at least gave her the illusion of modesty.
Beside her, Sarah sat in a metal chair and thumbed rapidly through her phone. Her costume took the idea of modesty and crumpled it up into a ball before stomping on it and then lighting it on fire with napalm. Her costume was almost skin-tight, made of the same fabric as Taylor's. That meant that it could look like poured-on latex while still allowing free movement.
And it clung. God, did it cling. If not for the gauzy waist cape of dark violet, her costume would be indecent in the bottom half. The tight pants were a pale lavender color with the darker violet highlights that seemed to highlight the shape of her legs. It gave the illusion of her legs being longer than they actually were.
Her top was just as tight, hugging her flat stomach and chest. She had her hair pulled back in a bun and wore a dark violet mask that was shaped just so to hide all of her freckles and even change the shape of her face. An Egyptian Eye of Ra held a place of honor over her chest.
"Yes, I look awesome," Sarah said without looking up from her phone. "And no, your tunic is not too revealing." She finally looked up and gave Taylor a smile. "You look pretty good."
"You're just saying that because you look better."
Sarah shrugged. "Yes, I'm a hot asexual. I have all the biological signaling I need to snag a man I can't and don't want to do anything with. You're going to do fine, and you know it."
The door opened and Ms. Courtmanche stepped in, looking prim and professional in her pin-striped dark skirt, jacket and white blouse. She made hose and heels look comfortable, somehow.
"Are you two ready?"
Sarah slipped her phone into the pocket of her own half-skirt. "You bet!"
The two followed her into the news conference room.
The room stood just off the public lobby, near the gift shop, with a dedicated exterior entrance that allowed journalists to go straight in after a single security check. It was large enough to comfortably seat twenty journalists.
All the seats were taken and a standing crowd filled the back as Taylor and Sarah stepped out onto the slightly elevated stage. Dan Seneca was already on stage, along with Romulus, Ashwinder and Strobelight, the pure-white teleporting breaker 4.
Alice was noticeably absent. This was due to design.
"The girl's a PR nightmare," Sarah said when Taylor questioned the proposed lineup. "The camera can see her blood-shot eyes from a mile away."
There was no applause when they entered, but what seemed like a million cameras started flashing. Taylor felt intimately aware of the various news cameras that tracked her every step.
"We're pleased to introduce our two newest wards, Insight and Quintessence," Dan said smoothly as he motioned for them. "Insight, why don't you come tell us a little about yourself?"
Sarah stepped smoothly to the Podium.
"Thank you, Dan," she said with a gracious smile.
The cameras were pulled away from Taylor solely because of how ridiculously photogenic Sarah was in her costume. That was the plan, after all. Nothing was so easily manipulated as mass media.
"As the Assistant Director said, my name is Insight. I transferred to Seattle from an internship with Watchdog. I'm a Thinker, so you may not see me running around catching villains. But you might hear about me shutting down cyberthreats and solving conspiracies. I'm thrilled to be here."
The timing was rehearsed—the reporters seemed trained not to ask questions until prompted. None spoke as she stepped back with a disarmingly sweet smile that Taylor knew hid a mind like a knife.
"Quintessence?" Dan asked.
Balance.
Taylor stepped to the podium and took a deep breath.
"As you can see, I don't have a mask. Most of you already know who I am, and I decided for the sake of those I've harmed in the past not to hide behind a new secret identity. My cape name is Quintessence, but you also know me as Taylor Hebert. I am a telekinetic, telepath and trump. And I'm able to stand here before you today because Chief Director Costa-Brown and Alexandria decided to take a gamble and let me try to use my power to do good. And I'm here in Seattle because, for a few months, I made a home here and appreciated this city.
"I can't undo the harm I've done, but I can and will strive to make the world a better place from now on. Thank you."
She stepped back while Dan retook the podium. "Thank you, Insight and Quintessence."
The man was a practiced public speaker, Taylor noted.
"Now, you've been patient with us, and I also wish to thank all of you for complying with the moratorium on seeking Quintessence out. I'm aware that her place of residence is essentially public record, but Insight confirmed that you've all complied with our requests. Thank you for that. Since you've been patient and respected their privacy, Insight and Quintessence have agreed to answer a few questions. Ladies?"
This, too, was choreographed. Dan stepped back to a spot marked with a little touch of tape, close enough that the microphone could pick him up but far enough for Taylor and Sarah to stand side-by side at the podium.
The moment Taylor dreaded finally arrived.
However, the room didn't erupt in a cacophony of shouted questions. Ms. Courtmanche had her reporters too well-trained. Instead, they all raised their hands. It was Courtmanche who selected the reporter to go first, having first-hand knowledge of every one of them.
"Susan Day, KOMO news. Quintessence, before your capture it was well known that you ran a clinic for parahuman healing. Do you have plans to start that again?"
It was a soft question. Which was why Courtmanche picked that particular reporter first.
"As part of my Wards contract, any healing I do has to be through PRT channels," Taylor said. "Healing was never my primary power, just something I chose to sell as a service to survive instead of turning to crime. I believe that Dr. White with the PRT is coordinating something through the University to make me available for emergencies. But no, I won't be reopening my clinic like before."
Next came the hard question. "Bill Baker, KIRO news. Quintessence, can you give us a little more information about what actually happened during the Seattle West massacre?"
Like the first question, Taylor knew this one had been vetted. Only, the vetting process went all the way up to Director Foote. They allowed it because, as both Dan and Courtmanche said: "You need to own it and make people realize that what you did was heroic. They've seen the blood and bodies, but they need to know why."
Courtmanche encouraged her to act upset and off-guard. Play acting was a part of the PR process, evidently. Taylor didn't need to pretend, though.
"Last January, I woke up from a nightmare that I was stuck in a locker filled with biological waste to find myself on a transport heading to the Birdcage. I escaped, yes, but I was alone. I just found out my dad was dead, and it seemed like the whole world wanted me dead for something I only vaguely remembered.
"During my run, I was badly hurt by some heroes trying to catch me. I got away and found myself in a town near Seattle. I went in to a truck stop to try and wash some of the blood off from my fights, and maybe treat my wounds. When I came out, the Russian Bravta cape Virago teleported in and knocked me unconscious."
Her voice shook. "I woke up naked in a cell with a teen-aged girl who'd already been abused. There were another hundred teens on the boat. The Russians planned to sell us to the Chinese as sex slaves. I realized that I couldn't safely evacuate the children in the boat while there were heavily armed soldiers and capes ready to kill them. So, I did what I had to do to save as many innocent lives as I could."
The reporters ate it up.
The rest of the questions were easier, asking about school and odd things about her color preferences and who her favorite capes were ("Being one kind of ruined that for me, sorry," she answered).
Then the script went off a little.
"Nancy Southland, Atlanta News Network. In the past few months, your partner while you operated your clinic has had multiple run-ins with the law for possession and intoxicated driving. She's escaped custody on three separate occasions and in one case was cited for public indecency. Anonymous sources who have knowledge of the situation said that the two of you were involved in a sexual…"
"Nancy, you know perfectly well not to even think about the personal lives of Wards!" Courtmanche snapped.
Nancy not only appeared recalcitrant, she even stood up as if gearing for a fight. "She maybe a Ward now, but she was villain then! The city deserves to know if it's latest Ward is actually going to obey the law, or throw it out the window whenever her girlfriend gets in trouble again!"
"That girlfriend was a victim of the Bravta," Taylor said.
Something about the room went oddly quiet. Even Southland went still. Taylor realized she was broadcasting in the Force, but she didn't care.
"That girlfriend has been abused most of her life," Taylor continued. "She wasn't kidnapped by the Russians, she was sold to them. Sixteen, Ms. Southland. She watched her best friend gunned down in front of her. She's seen more horrors, and had more horrors enacted upon her, than you could even imagine. I owe her my life. Wherever she is, whomever she's with, I hope and pray she gets the help she needs. And I hope that ignorant, self-righteous reporters know better than to ever bother her."
"And I think we're done for the day," Courtmanche said in a scathing, deriding tone. "Bonehead question of the day goes to Nancy. We'll collect your credentials as you leave, Nancy. That's your third strike. Don't bother coming back."
Taylor didn't bother looking at the report's expression; she could feel her anger and self-righteous indignation in the Force as she and Insight walked out.
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
School was excruciating the next day. Southland's news clip only appeared on ANN because no other network was willing to air something so salacious about an underaged cape. But within minutes of the story appearing, PHO and the other forums went insane with speculation about Taylor's sexuality.
Which meant every kid in school thought Taylor Hebert was gay. While she received support from the LBGT community online, none of those people apparently went to Chief Sealth High School.
Fortunately, she only had morning classes and didn't have to sit through lunch. No one was stupid enough to say anything to her face (it was amazing what a flat stare from pure-black eyes could do to a person's confidence), but she could sense and hear people laughing at her behind her back.
The PRT might have put out an order for reporters not to go to her home, but that didn't stop them from hanging around the school. Her suggestion field was a lot harder when a line of reporters was looking for her on an empty side-walk between the school and the student parking lot.
She just went out the back way from the school, which added ten minutes to her walk but which avoided the spot most of the reporters had to congregate because of school rules and just the nature of the streets themselves. When she reached the PRT building for her shift, she expected things just to get worse.
Instead, she got Scapetti standing in the hall outside the door to the Wards room.
"Heya, Stringbean," he said with a wry grin. His scarred face glistened from a new treatment cream he'd been proscribed. "Get changed into your PT gear and meet me down on the course."
While Scapetti was not the SAC for the PRT WNW office, he was still a SAC. Which meant If anyone got in trouble for her not being in the Wards room, it would be him.
No one was in the room when she entered anyway, though. All the Wards had their own rooms, though only Alice lived there full time. Her parents couldn't quite handle her, being drugged out themselves most of the time.
She only kept costumes and PT clothes on hand, and changed quickly into her workout sweats. By the time she reached the workout course under a surprisingly clear, mid-October sky, she saw Scapetti standing next to Laura Davis, the sniper. There were others around them, all in PRT-branded sweats.
"There's the Stringbean now," Scappeti called. "Get over here and meet the team."
Ah. These were the PRT agents that would be the core of their special unit. She moved down the sidewalk to the edge of the obstacle and urban warfare course that took up a low of the PRT-owned land by Lake Union.
"Alright folks, you've seen her on the news. You've seen footage of her putting Leviathan on his tail. And you've seen the bodies of those Russian fucks. And at least two of you saw her lay down with Alexandria and walk away. I give you Quintessence."
Something about the playful quality of his tone prompted her to do a bad impression of a bow. "Thank you, thank you. Donations can be made out to the 'Make Taylor Less Awkward Fund'."
She felt heartened when a few of the people gathered actually laughed. Even better, they were laughing with her, not at her.
"So, you know Davis," Scapetti said.
He pointed to a short woman with surprisingly muscular arms, a square face and short, platinum blonde hair. "Jan Stanitz. Jan's our communications specialist. Served five years with LAPD before she jumped ship to the PRT."
"Nice to meet you," Taylor said, offering her hand.
The woman hesitated only a split second before grinning. "A polite cape, who'd a thunk it. Nice to meet you, Quintessence."
He pointed next to a tall, broad-shouldered man with rich brown skin. Taylor couldn't tell if he was Asian or Hispanic, but his presence in the Force spoke of a quiet, dependable strength.
"This here's Donahue McKenzie Tso. His mama was Navajo, his papa was a seven-foot tall Viking of a man. Donny here's our heavy weapons expert."
Taylor and the tall man shook hands.
Next came Mark Schertz, a former marine with Scapetti's unit, a red-headed man with Irish green eyes and a cocky smile named Rad Callister, and a shorter man with a scraggly mustache named Julio Marquez, a former Army Ranger.
The last three members of the team were LaMarcus Martin, Ken Hollis and James Daymore. Like the first agents she met, all of them appeared fit, young and competent.
"So, here's the deal," Scapetti said to Taylor. "Normal PRT protocol is for PRT to handle everything below a Class 5 threat. Once ratings get above 5, the Protectorate deals with the baddies, then PRT does clean up. Even Special Response units are not supposed to go up against anything Class 6 alone. Thing is, the capes usually don't work well with the PRT."
In her mind, Taylor could easily envision some of the more unique Bendu eschewing the Republic forces meant to support them.
"That's because most capes are warriors, not soldiers," she said.
She noticed a few of the agents staring at her a little.
Scapetti, though, just nodded. "That's right. You know why Horizon got tapped for this? 'Cause she's former JROTC. Triggered before she served, but she's always been willing to get into the trenches. Based on what you did in Portland, she's hoping you're the same. So, from now on, you're going to train with us."
Taylor looked from face to face. "Yeah, that's good. I don't mind easing up my workout for you guys."
"Oh, easing up, huh?" Rad Callister said with a scoff.
Taylor cocked her head to the side. "What, you think I'm joking?"
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
She made it home in time to cook a quick dinner. She'd received a text from Sarah that the other girl would make it home before 7. She quickly knocked out her homework while the curry cooked.
By the time Sarah pulled her car into the garage, Taylor had the rice steamed and the table set.
"Oh, that smells good!" Sarah announced as she walked. Her shoulders were slumped and there were rings under her eyes. Her headache throbbed in the Force.
"Sit," Taylor ordered.
Sarah did so, and then just sighed as Taylor placed her hand on her forehead and sent healing into the other girl's mind.
"Thank you," she breathed. "I abused my power like crazy today."
"Why?"
"Slaughterhouse Nine hit Brockton Bay," she said. "Isn't the first time, they hit it a few years ago when you were just a baby. We think they were after Dinah Alcott."
Taylor almost dropped her spoon as she was sitting. "Dinah? Why would the S9 be after her?"
"You mean aside from being one of the most powerful pre-cogs in the world?" Sarah shook her head sadly. "They got her parents, Taylor. Triumph was able to save her. His sonic blaster power was a little stronger than the PRT recorded—he knocked Crawler through a building before Glory Hole managed to get him and Dinah out of there."
None of this was on the news or PHO. "What happened next?"
"Dinah's a Person of Interest. Legend was there as soon as he found out, and Eidolon teleported in a few minutes later. The S9 backed off, but Alexandria's worried Dinah might be targeted by other villains." She started eating the curry.
"She's coming here, isn't she?"
Sarah didn't even bother trying to hide it. She just nodded. "Triumph too. Turns out they're related. Just as well. We lost Vestibule."
"What? Why?"
Sarah scowled. "Because he's a raging homophobe. Related to his trigger event. He saw something about you and Yuki and retracted his transfer request. Fucker, we really could have used his power, too."
With a bitter sigh, Taylor covered her face and fought back and urge to scream.
"Kids at school, huh?" Of course, Sarah could see the day Taylor was having. "Shit, I shouldn't be surprised. I'm sorry. Still, I saw a couple of our PRT agents in the cafeteria before I left. You made a really good impression with your training."
It didn't help, and both knew it.
"I'm going to go work in the lab," Taylor said as she left her half-eaten dinner on the table.
"Go, I'll clean up. Thanks for cooking, by the way. And the magic headache power!"
She managed to summon a smile for her friend before she headed down into the lab.
Since accepting Dragon's commission, she'd set all three of her molecular furnaces to full conversion mode. The smallest she had working on neural nodules that would provide the pathways for the positronic synapses. The microscopic nodes were made of a few microns of diamond each, and the number a droid brain had determined its sentience and processing power.
The second unit was producing the various polymers and plasmids that would form the conductive suspension for the nodules, which would transmit the neural positronic signals at a quantum level, providing incredible computing power.
The third furnace was producing the materials to make a factory droid. Just in the five days she'd started working on it, she already had the first of the droid's four arms completed. Each one was as long as her legs, and ended in a series of manipulators and precision tools capable of working on a microscopic level. Dragon provided her with a track-wheeled chasse to mount the droid on—a short-cut that would save her a month of production time.
Someone knocked at the door. "Taylor? We have a guest."
"If it's Armsmaster again, tell him to go away."
Taylor sat up. Her back popped, and only then did she realize she'd been hunched for while. Below her, the droid's second arm was almost done and she had parts laid out for the other two.
She opened her mind and felt a familiar presence that brought a hesitant smile to her face. Sarah read her body language and grinned before leading their guest down into the basement.
Without the pressure of an approaching Endbringer battle, Taylor found herself able to study Mujaji with an objective eye. During their first meeting, it felt like she was talking to a girl her own age. But now, as Sarah led the other cape into her lab, she felt as if she were looking at a woman. A young woman, but still a woman.
And that woman walked across the floor of Taylor's lab without a word and wrapped her in a hug. It was sudden, unexpected, and so honest it left Taylor speechless for a long moment. And then, because it was the only thing she could do, she returned the hug tightly.
Mujaji stepped back and studied Taylor. Her mask was an ornate blue and gold mix of lightning lines that ran up into a short afro. Taylor couldn't remember what she wore in the fight, but she did know it looked different.
The woman's costume was different too—the skirt was gone, replaced by bell-bottom gold slacks lined with navy blue, and a form-fitting dark blue tunic with flared, dramatic sleeves that turned white in jagged lines. It was made of the same tinker fabric as Taylor's ward uniform. However, it also had a neckline that plunged down almost to her navel. Part of it was a dark flesh-colored fabric that made it look more scandalous than it was, but even so it revealed actual side-boob. The fact that Mujaji had more side-boob that Taylor had boobs just meant it worked.
"I like the new costume," Taylor said.
Mujaji grinned. "My mom hated it. My brother said it was hot. How' you doing, baby?"
Taylor grinned weakly. "Good enough, I guess. You?"
The slightly shorter woman shrugged. She then reached up and pulled off her mask. She had brown eyes that almost shimmered, with a broad nose and full, luscious lips. "My name's Ladonna Franklin."
"Taylor Hebert." This time, Taylor hugged her. "I'm glad you came, LaDonna. Are you hungry? We have some curry left."
"I don't fly as fast as Alexandria, it took me three hours to get here," the older cape said. "I could definitely eat."
"Then let's get you fed, and we can talk after."
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
"So, rumor had it Alexandria was so impressed with me at Brockton Bay that when I graduated she was going to recruit me to serve under Rime," LaDonna said between bites.
"But Rime's a bitch," Sarah injected.
"Oh my God, she is such a bitch!" LaDonna agreed, before smiling at Taylor. "So, when I got the inter-agency email from Barbie here about you being part of a new rapid-reaction team, I thought, 'Hell yeah!'".
Rather than be miffed about being compared to a vapid-headed doll, Sarah chose to take it as a compliment.
"Well we're thrilled to have you. You're going to be our only Alexandria package. So, you're staying at the PRT building tonight, right?"
"Yeah, my stuff's already there," Mujaji said.
Sarah look at Taylor, who nodded back. "We have three spare bedrooms at the front of the house," she said. "No furniture at all. If you want, you're welcome to stay here. We could use your housing allowance to furnish it anyway you want. Only expense would be a share of the groceries plus any household chores—water and electricity are free."
LaDonna made a show of rubbing her chin in thought. "Hmmm, no rent and free utilities? What about internet and cable?"
Sarah grinned and pointed at Taylor. "Little Miss 'I'm not a Tinker' here made her own ISP. No cable, but we have a digital antenna for the local channels and enough broadband to stream the library of Congress."
"Sold!" LaDonna said. "So, I gotta know. Is that girl Alice really stoned all the time?"
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
Thursday morning, while Taylor was in class, Sarah and LaDonna went shopping. Horizon approved of the housing arrangement happily and approved the housing allowance to be deposited into LaDonna's account so she could make the most of her shopping trip.
There were a lot fewer reporters at the school now as well. Taylor hoped they realized she wasn't going to give them the story they wanted and would give up entirely. Still, their presence meant that when her morning classes ended she had to exit through the gym and take the back way to the student parking lot.
Her thoughts raced through the many things she had to do that day—another training session with her squad; finishing her factory production droid and starting on the synthskin for the human replica droid that she was going to eventually build for Dragon.
LaDonna had committed to cooking dinner that night, so that was one less thing she had to do, but still her list was pretty long. Which is why she completely missed Yuki's presence until she almost ran over the petite girl.
Taylor had to admit she looked terrible. Her black hair hung lank and unwashed in clumps around her shoulder. Her skin had the oily, pimply look of long neglect. She even smelled ripe.
The jeans she wore hung loose from her straight hips, revealing a newly pierced navel, and the hoody almost swallowed her up.
"Hi, Taylor!" Her smile looked frantic. "I saw what you said in your interview. I love the costume; you looked a lot better than the blonde slut!"
Her presence in the Force felt ecstatic. She felt no doubt; she projected absolute certainty that Taylor would take her back.
"Yuki, what are you doing here?"
"I'm…I'm here for you! You said you were thinking about me, and that you hoped I got what I need. You said I was your girlfriend! All I need is you, and I'll be fine!"
Taylor stepped up to the girl. Yuki bounced, as if ready to pounce on her in a hug. Before she could, Taylor caught her arm and pulled up one of the sleeves.
The track marks covered the whole interior of her arm; three looked infected and felt even worse in the Force.
"God, Yuki," she whispered.
"It's nothing!" Yuki insisted. "Just something to hold me over until you got out, that's all!"
"I thought that's what Obsidian was for."
Her smile broke. "He's not you. He doesn't understand me like you do!" Her eyes were horribly bloodshot.
"What are you on now, Yuki?"
"Just some pills to…you know, get the courage to come to you!"
Her pupils were dilated and her heart was thudding through her chest. "Come on, Yuki."
She made an excited "eep!" sound. "Can we fuck? Please? I have this itch without you that Todd just can't scratch!"
"I'm not sure that's the type of itch you think it is, Yuki."
She managed to get Yuki to her motorcycle before sending the drugged-out cape into a deep slumber. She was on her phone a minute later. It was hard to ride with Yuki in her arms and blurry eyes, but she managed.