Chapter 7
"The Infestation, really?"
Dad gave me a wry smile.
In sheer shame and embarrassment, I let the younger me in my room melt into a puddle of sentient goo. I flowed off the sheets, onto the floor, and under the bed where I could let that partition of me burn in shame in peace.
Instead, I distracted myself by focusing on the instance of me in Taylor's room. My little sister let out the cutest mewling sound as she stretched out all her limbs.
I let out a small coo, unable to help myself with her adorable cat-like mannerisms, and scratched her behind the ears.
"Mmph, stop it," She swatted at my hand, eyes still closed.
"No such luck, munchkin," I grinned down at her.
Finally, her eyes opened, though only to glare up at me, "I'm not a munchkin." She pouted. "You're just freakishly tall."
Well, that was true. I'd looked at my original genome and I'd found that I actually had a disposition for being more on average with most women, or even on the shorter side. Compared to Taylor and Mom's genes, I'd have been the munchkin.
But how can Taylor be my adorable little sister if I'm the short one?
We just can't have that. I smiled to myself.
Compared to everything else in my repertoire, making myself 5'11" at 16 was trivial. Given how much Taylor was likely to grow, I'd probably need to end up at least 6'2" in order to forever keep my big sister status.
I had the errant thought of letting myself get to 9ft, if only for one night, just to mess with Taylor's head, but quickly discarded it with a chuckle.
Taylor's pout deepened at the way I dismissed her claims.
"I'm sorry, Tay," I said insincerely as massaged the kink I knew she was going to have in her shoulder. "My baby sister is just so cute when she's sleep, I just couldn't help it."
Taylor turned her head away from me in defiance, a fearsome blush on her cheeks, though she made no move to get away from me.
"I'm not a baby," She grumbled under her breath.
"A girl can dream," I smiled. Part of me hoped Taylor never grew up, that she'd be a tween forever. Hell, part of me dreamed she was a kid again, free of the toils and worries of real life. I'd bare all the pain for her a thousand times if it meant she could be innocent and blissful for another year.
"I made you toast!" I said with a perky smile, switching topics as I could sense the way her mind was shifting from thinking about me babying her to thinking about how incredibly hungry she was.
Taylor's eyes flashed over to the plate on the nightstand, the scent of buttered hot bread and exposed and crispy, juicy, apples. She bit her lips, and I could see the way her mind turned through all the thoughts she'd tell herself as she tried not to think about how tempting it all was. She didn't want to give in.
I couldn't normally tell a person's thoughts so easily from scanning their body. Brains are very very complicated, and even with the Repository inside me storing all the scans and memories I'd ever had, it wasn't easy to put together the way one's brain lit up with what they were actually thinking. Reading the hundred billion neurons in someone's brain at anything close to real-time and translating the tangled mess into coherent thought and words just wasn't feasible for me. From what I could tell, people barely ever even thought in words in the first place, usually, it was a disjointed series of images, concepts, and senses. Even that was born from steadily pouring over the same scans over and over again.
So instead, I usually just looked at what areas of the brain were lighting up in what patterns in response to what stimulus. It wasn't perfect, and I couldn't get details like names or specific locations, but sometimes I could get a general idea of what someone's thought process was.
For Dad and Taylor, this worked the best because I knew them. I knew the type of person they were and the way their brains worked. When I saw their brains lighting up in certain patterns, I could guess that it meant they were thinking and how they got their. I barely even needed to read Taylor's brain, especially. Unlike Dad, she didn't have a poker face carved from stone.
A large part of me felt guilty about it. I was, after all, pretty literally reading their brain. At the same time, I couldn't really not look at it if I had skin contact with them. The brain was the most active part of the human body by far. The whole body moved and worked as a unit, and it was beautiful, but only the brain was alight with such an incredible fire of activity. Ignoring it and other physiological cues while I had skin contact would be like trying to talk to someone while ignoring their facial features and tone of voice.
It was the reason why I wore so many layers all the time. It felt more...polite… to not constantly be reading people like that. Plus, I didn't really want to constantly be reading people like that, Beyond it seeming rude, it was just a hassle to know every detail about a person on a cellular level every time I bumped into them, especially considering I'd never forget those details.
I was pulled from my thoughts by Taylor shifting around on my lap.
"Are you coming in with me today?" I asked, turning my thoughts back to the immediate present.
Taylor just grumbled something unintelligible. Which meant that she didn't really want to go and leave her comfy bed yet, but she also didn't want to tell me no, and she also didn't really want to sleep all day.
Which meant I'd have to poke and prod her awake.
"Come on, Taylor," I smile, poking her cheek with an apple slice. "If you don't want to sleep the day away, you need to get up and give me an answer."
She grumbled again, flipping over and burying her face in my stomach.
I tapped the wet apple slice inside of her ear.
She jerked over, slapping her hand over her ear and shooting me an offended slack-jawed look like she couldn't believe I'd done that.
I gave her my best innocent, "Oh, whatever do you mean?", smile.
"You're so mean," She tried to scowl. Without her glasses, her face was framed a little differently. Her eyes appear smaller on her face and the black plastic rims no longer breaking up facial features. Up close like this, she didn't need her glasses anyways, being nearsighted.
"Call it tough love," I said, poking her with the apple slice again.
She slapped it away with a grimace, "I don't want that, it's been in my ear!"
"Just the outside," I shrugged, "And, I mean, if you can't eat yourself, what can you eat?"
Taylor curled her tongue and opened her mouth in a gagging motion, and for a moment I was tempted to snap out and poke her tongue with the apple slice. I knew that'd probably earn me a slap, and be a bit too far, so I settled for twisting around and throwing the apple slice in the trash.
"There, happy?" I said, shooting her a wry smile.
"No," She pouted, "I'm sleepy."
"Some cold water could fix that," I offered, holding up a glass.
The scowl my little sister sent me made me laugh, but I pulled it back together to ask her the question again. "So, are you coming in with me today?"
She thought about it, biting the inside of her lip as her eyes turned up and to the left in thought. I could see her brain lighting up in all the tiny arguments going on in her head. I decided to help her out.
"Well…" I drawled, "If you stay here, you can sleep in. If you come with me, I can just swing around to Emma's when we're done."
I shrugged, "It's up to you."
She moved onto chewing her bottom lip. "I…"
I could tell by the way she was tensing up and picking her words that she was trying not to hurt my feelings.
As if such a thing could ever wound me.
"I think I'll stay home." She said eventually. "I'm just still tired, a-and I need to pack, a-and-"
"Okay," I cut her off with a smile. I let her know it was all ok by brushing my hand through her hair. "It's fine, Taylor, it really is."
She relaxed, sagging onto my lap and leaning into my hand. All the tension bled out of her, and for a while, we just sat there. Her steady breathing and heartbeat a peaceful metronome for my mind. There were no words, there was no need for them. Just me and my sister at peace, as we always should be.
After seven and a half objective minutes, Taylor broke the silence.
"Feed me," Taylor finally said, opening her eyes so she could stare up at me.
"Oh?" I raised a brow, "I thought you weren't a baby?"
"I'm not," She nodded imperiously, "I'm a queen. And as my loyal servant, I command you to feed me."
I chuckled, I couldn't help myself. "I think you're more of a princess, myself."
"A princess?" Taylor pouted, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow.
"Yep," I grinned, resisting the urge to pinch and prod her cheeks. I had some weird, almost irresistible, urge to pull and stretch her adorable face. "I'm sure you can agree that Mom was the regal queen?"
I saw the series of blips in Taylor's head and the way her face twitched at the mention of Mom. All the little flickers of pain. I feel a spike of guilt at reminding her. I feel a little better when she bounces back with a nod.
"Ok," She admits, almost grudgingly seeing my point, "I'm the princess, mom was the queen."
I allow myself to snort at the fact I've actually successfully roped my sister into this. I can tell she's not completely awake yet, so she's still a little...imaginative and pliable.
"Yep," Taylor folded her arms under her blanket. "A noble and beloved princess"
"Well then," I smiled, picking up an apple slice with my free hand, "Since you are such a noble and adorable princess of our kingdom" I continued, holding it over her mouth.
"Then I shall be your Knight in shining armor."
"And here we are, Milady,"
The car jerked slightly as it came to a full stop. There was a ratcheting sound as I put it in park and looked over to my sister with a smirk upon my face.
"I have brought you to your destination on my trusty steed. Though it might not be as regal as the roya-"
Taylor slapped my shoulder, "Shut up!" She whined.
"Ah!," I gasped, recoiled in exaggerated pain, "The princess commands silence! I must swear an oath of-"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" She punctuated each repetition with another slap on my shoulder. Still, through it all, I could see her failing to hide her grin.
"The princess?" Repeated a voice from the back.
We turned around to see a girl with long chestnut brown hair in a simple white dress with a pleated skirt that came to her ankles. Her eyes focused on Taylor with an accusing look and a wry grin. The girl was shorter than both of us and already far curvier than mom ever was. It provided an interesting kind of contrast to the tall and slim figure of my little sister.
Of all of us, Taylor was the only one not in some kind of dress or skirt. She wore a basic light blue tee shirt and some lose cargo pants. That said, if their job to cheer Emma up worked, then I had little doubt that she'd be coerced into a dress of some kind by the end of the day.
"Oh yes," I grinned, "You see, Charlotte, on this early morn, my dearest sister and I came to the accord that she is a princess,"
I gestured my hand in Taylor's direction, "And as such, I am her Knight in Shining Armor, with one of my many duties being the delivery of her and her friends."
"I was lazy and tired," Taylor explained with a huff. "I made Amy get me food."
"Ah, of course." Charlotte nodded in understanding.
Taylor sagged in relief with a pleasant smile.
"Your Highness" Charlotte added.
Taylor's face fell into a look of tortured betrayal.
Charlotte shot me a glance. An understanding passed between us.
"Well, off you go," I said, shooing them out of the car, "The two of you have a royal appointment that I couldn't possibly allow you to be late for."
The more I fell into character the more I brought up a faux posh British accent.
"Ugh, you're so mean," Taylor groaned, opening the door and getting out.
I gripped my chest in feigned agony, "oof," I moaned, "The princess's barbs, they strike so deep! How can I endure such cutting quips?"
"Oh, Milady, how can you be so cruel to your kind and stalwart Knight?" Charlotte teased as she got out from the back seats.
Taylor slammed the door shut as she whined, "Why? Why is my life suffering?"
So caught up in said suffering, was she, that she left without her bags.
"Milady!" I called out when she was halfway up the steps to the Barne's house, still grinning from ear to ear, "You cannot forget your bag."
Taylor stopped, looked up to the sky, and huffed.
"Come now, princess Taylor, we can't forget our gifts." Charlotte giggled as she leaned against the car waiting for her, her own bookbag already slung over her shoulder. My sister turned around and marched back to the car. She yanked open the door Charlotte was standing next to and pulled out her bookbag.
"Hate you," Taylor muttered as she threw the bag over her shoulder, "Hate you both."
"Have fun Milady!" I waved as the two walked up the steps again. I could see the Barne's door open and Aunt Zoe looking down at us with a perplexed, but amused, smile, our commotion no doubt alerting her to us.
"Princess Taylor?" Zoe repeated in askance.
I snickered. Charlotte doubled over. Taylor screamed.
"WHY?!"
Here we are.
I looked down at my phone, at the texts dad had sent me before he'd gone back to bed. Work was so physically and mentally draining for him that by the time the weekend came, he usually only felt like sleeping on Saturday. As such, him communicating through texts like this was hardly a surprise or in any way new.
"Amy, sorry I wasn't up to see you come back home, but while you're out, why not drive by Sanctuary on your way home? You might be grounded, but you ARE going to be working their soon, and it might give you some ideas about what you want to do going forward.
Night"
I snorted. Wordy as ever, Dad.
Still, he had a decent idea, even if it was in code. Couldn't exactly talk about cape stuff on something as insecure as a phone, especially in this day and age.
As such, here I was, standing on the sidewalk in a city square. I was in the downtown area, where there'd been a lot of urban renewal recently in the wake of the devastation that was really only now fading from people's minds.
It was a superblock, one of the few in the city, and I rather liked it. The nine normal city blocks merged together in a way forced people to actually walk and interact inside their confines, but from the outside was easily accessible by car. Normally, such a redesign would be difficult, but when half the city is leveled and burned down, you get some room to work with. In the ensuing rebuilding, a lot of superblocks had been made and sponsored by major groups already invested in the bay such as Medhall, or those looking to move in, like Ladon or Tycho.
The one I was standing in, however, was different. It had been funded by donations, fundraisers, nonprofits, government aid, and a half dozen other groups that actually felt even a half a degree of love toward Brockton Bay. Anyone who wanted to see this city thrive, happy and healthy, had chipped in at least some spare change. Given why it'd even come about in the first place, it was no surprise.
Most of the exterior was devoted to local small businesses. Mom and Pop shops that had been here in one form or another for decades, startups from people trying to make a name for themselves, and everything in between. All mixed with apartments, garages, and even a school. It was like a small scale city, combined with all the other superblocks in the area, and in the middle of it all was the jewel.
A small park, a carefully cultivated section of cherished nature, nestled in the middle of the bustling city. Trees dotted the expanse, both in clusters and alone, providing shade to all who stayed here. Near one such small grove stood a playground that looked like it'd been fashioned in the aesthetic of a treehouse. In many places looking like it was made from plants, like trees that had grown into the shape of a jungle gym and massive leaves curving into a slide.
In another corner of the small park was an area dotted with rocks positioned in such a way to create a basic soccer field, surrounded by trees to provide shade. Benches, tables, and various sculptures filled the space, all of them either made from plants or rocks, not a one fashioned with metal or plastic. At the edge between the park proper and the businesses on the outside were little open-air areas to eat and chat. Places on the pavement with a table, an umbrella, and a few chairs. Nothing fancy, but enough to be inviting whatever the day.
The place was alive, too. Families filled the park, children running around, screaming and hollering with smiles on their faces. Their parents sitting around in the shade, trading small talk, stories, and snacks. Eight kids of mixed race and gender between the ages of roughly nine and twelve ren around the soccer field, playing a simple game.
A young black girl with her hair in braids scored a goal and started cheering loudly, taunting the Hispanic kid she'd scored on. A black boy, around my age I supposed, shook his head at her as he fought a grin from his place sitting on the shaded sidelines.
At the table of an Italian restaurant sat a couple, one woman with short blonde hair wearing a light jean jacket over a red shirt and black pants sitting across from a man with short brown hair wearing a blue shirt and cargo khakis. The man had a beaming expression on his face as he held up a fork of pasta, trying to feed it to the woman, who wasn't trying very hard to push it away while unsuccessfully trying to keep a straight face.
At another table in front of a cafe sat a woman in a black light jacket, jeans, and a grey shirt with short brown hair and a scarred face that almost twisted her flat expression into a sneer. She was reading a book with a cup of what smelled like black coffee and a plate of half-eaten apple pie she was slowly working through.
Looking at it all was easy, my eyes shifting into something more similar to a falcon's, and it brought me, if not joy, a feeling of contentment. That things weren't all doom and gloom. That not every part of the city was a shithole. Brockton Bay was in a remarkably better place than it was in '80s, is one of the faster-growing cities in the US and nearly doubling its population in spite of trouble like the dock work drying up and the bay getting wrecked. For all the shit that had happened to it in recent years, the people were still here. They could still smile, still be at peace.
Mom would be proud.
Speaking of...
I came to a stop, my destination before me. Looking at it brought a bittersweet smile to my face.
Hey, Mom
In front of me stood a statue of marble. No, more than a statue, it was a scene, 20 ft tall and 60 ft wide. A woman in segmented plates of smooth armor over a darker bodysuit and with a long and regal mantle hung from her shoulders. She sat upon a throne made of marble carved to look like ancient wood. In her hands, was a book, opened wide and resting on a knee. Children of all ages, ranging from an older teen in the back to a young toddler on her other knee, crowded around her, all either trying to read the book, or enraptured by the woman as she read to them. Frozen in stone were hundreds of insects such as butterflies and bumblebees flying around them all, like fairies in a whirlwind. The artist had even captured the iconic twin bugs on either shoulder, with eight legs, four wings, two large eyes, a crown of thorns, and enlarged thorax's.
Where most everything on her was a stark white marble, the eyes and crown of the full mask on her face was the iconic gold. A garden had been strategically placed on and around her and the children, a tangle of vines and roses down the cape and hair, trees, flowers, and bushes placed around the base to give shade and frame the whole scene. And in memory of her, some tinker had included a device that helped attract and pacify bugs.
Bees, butterflies, and insects of all stripes and colors all flew in and around the scene. A rainbow of color and sound filled the square from them all, but even the few hornets around were all too pacified by the device to ever dare sting a soul. You could pick up and crush a black widow in your hand, here, and it wouldn't do a thing. It made it a feeding ground for a lot of other larger predators that ate them, but considering the massive population of bugs in the city and the way Matriarch's legacy continued to cultivate them, no one was worried about their numbers.
A plaque at the base of the scene read, "The Matriarch Memorial Center of Sanctuary."
Behind it, a three story building in the middle of the park. Part glass and steel, part wood and leave, it was a marvel of economic engineering. Combined with everything else, I knew Mom would have been proud. Aunt Grace wouldn't accept anything less.
I forced a smile. It was a beautiful monument, but that didn't really take away the pain of losing her in the first place.
"I'm thinking of following in your footsteps," I said as I looked at my mother's mask. "I just...I just hope I can do you proud."
As I said it, a Hercules beetle crawling on the rendition of my mother's mask turned to look in my direction with its horn. I wanted to think that it was a sign from her, a wink from heaven.
I swallowed the lump that I'd allow to form in my throat.
"Well, I guess I'll-"
I was cut off by the sound of an explosion behind me.
I whirled around, my blood surging in both panic and fury. Time slowed to a crawl as I dumped normally unsafe levels of adrenalin into my body. My brains worked on overdrive, disposing of unnecessary biomass to grow larger and hone themselves to the work of processing my surroundings. Judging it objectively was difficult in the best of times, but like this, I could easily perceive reality ten times faster than the average human.
One of those mom and pop stores on the other side of the block, a Greek restaurant owned by a couple I'd visited several times coming by here, was on fire. Billowing flames erupted from the windows on the superblock's interior. My eyes narrowed, photoreceptors shifting and pupils narrowing as I focused on the building.
The only part of the store was on fire, but it was still in danger of getting out of control. More alarming was the two men running out of the door. Both hats, sunglasses, and a bandanna hanging around their mouth. One wore a trench coat and a cap, the other a heavier jacket and a beanie. In spite of their meager disguises, I could tell each was a young Caucasian man, in their early twenties at the latest.
At first, nothing seemed particularly special about them, other than their generally suspicious activity. Then I heard something in the distance. I strengthened my hearing by tweaking the auditory processing abilities of my brain, the structure and size of my eardrum inside my skull, as well as growing additional ear-like organs throughout my body under my dress.
From the direction of the two men, I could hear sirens, the sound of people shouting.
"They're moving into the Sanctuary Superblock!"
"Corner them! Encircle the whole block!"
"Isn't that where the captain hangs out?"
"You are resisting ar-"
The last one was cut off as the one in the trench coat spun around, facing the building they'd just come from.
"Pull back!"
Flames burst from his hands, engulfing the side of the building. Screams of pain and fear erupted from the restaurant. My nose began to pick up the scents of burning wood, scorched stone, and the oh so familiar odor of charred human flesh.
The trench coat man, the one who'd just roasted a building full of people alive, laughed at his work and elbowed his friend.
"Haha, you see that man?"
"Yeah, fresh bacon, my favorite," The other said, holding his middle finger up to the building, "Take that ya fucking pigs."
"Eh, bro, we better bolt before the pin us down." Trench Coat said.
"Pft, like those fucking normies can do anything to us," His companion boasted, but started jogging towards the other side of the superblock regardless.
"Halt!" A voice shouted from one of the adjoining building in the superblock. A handful of PRT soldiers clad in the blues and blacks of their riot gear stood in front of a shoe store. "You are under arrest for-"
He didn't get far before Trench coat lobbed a fireball at them. Most took cover behind overturned tables, but a few shouldered their PRT shields with a white boar emblazoned on its black face and hunkered down in front of the few civilians still frozen in fear. The fire washed over them, and a couple soldiers pulled out guns and started taking pot shots at the two with rubber bullets.
The one in the heavy jacket moved in front of the Trench Coat and held up his arms. The bullets stopped about a foot in front of him, a hexagonal plate of white and black appearing. It held for a fraction of a second, before pulsing. Suddenly, all the bullets were sent shooting back in the direction they'd been shot, their momentum reversed. While everyone took cover from the hail of rubber, Trench Coat turned around and lobbed a fireball at a nearby cafe instead, causing it to burst into flames. More screams, more of that pungent smell of cooked meat.
A PRT soldier, the leader possibly, shot the two a harsh glare, before directing his men to help the civilians inside the burning building.
Everyone inside the clearing, once happy and at peace, was caught off guard by the chaos suddenly brought to them. For what felt like an eternity, no one seemed to know what to do, how to react to such a thing. A few screamed, a few ran, but most just stood there.
Trench Coat laughed and threw a fireball at another building that PRT had been starting to exit. The two ran through the shops, staying in the middle of the panicked crowd to have a steady supply of human shields and victims to distract the authorities.
My blood boiled, my muscles writhed, and my breath stopped. These two animals dared intrude on this peace? They'd come here and burn this place down just to satisfy their own selfish desires? Hurt and kill innocents just so that they'd have a chance to get away?
And they'd do it HERE?!
I took a breath and pulled a trick I'd learned from Mom. She hadn't taught it to me directly, she...hadn't had the chance. But it was a classic from her past, something seen in nearly every video of her. Something I could actually pull of better than she ever could.
I sneered at the two capes who dared ruin my mother's peace, and I dissolved into a swarm of butterflies.
I'm sure dad will understand.
A/n:
Well, the next chapter is going alright. Still, need to tweak some stuff, but we'll see how it goes.
Keep in mind, this chapter was supposed to be part of the last one. it's just that they became so fucking huge I decided to split it.
Also, the more...cuddly bits with Taylor are brought to you by my Cat. I've never had siblings, so the best measuring stick I've got for cuddling cute things is my cat. Dunno how much that stands up with reality.
Anyways, the next chap should be out by next week.
There might also be some formatting and grammar issues. I still don't have a beta anymore, so it's just me looking this shit over repeatedly, and I don't exactly have a lot of time to fiddle. Not if I want to get content out at anything approaching a regular speed.
So I apologize for the lack of good polish. Hopefully it's good enough to satisfy all of you.
That's really all I can think of at the moment, though I will note that the next chapter should include a few more details about how AU this AU is.