by Louis IX
Check first chapter for disclaimer and global warnings. This chapter is written as a second-person POV, and contains the following triggers: racist people, potential rape, heel-face turns (some people hate that)… and lasagne (some people hate that too).
Yin Yang''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
You Walk in Circles"Come on, Ems!" you try to wheedle your BFF, as the redhead clearly doesn't agree. "Come with me, it will be fun! It's not if you aren't there!"
"Tays…" she sighs. "We are growing up. Mother said that our tastes in things will change. And this is clearly one of those."
You want to stomp your foot in annoyance, but realize that it would confirm to Emma that you are still a little kid, while she's growing up into a young lady, fit for-
"Besides, I have three photo shoots this July. One in New York, even, and I might have more opportunities if everything goes well. In California! Isn't it grand?"
-that, exactly. Beauty contests, with job offerings, and competition, and… nothing like what the two of you thought your life would be like, two years ago – when you thought you would be super-heroines. Even last year, you both thought you'd be teachers together, certainly a worthy goal for your professor of a mother.
And then she died, and your father… became absent. Emma's mother got the two of you an invite into a beauty contest, but you were still reeling, and crying, and couldn't realistically go. And now that your friend has outlined her holidays program, it's her who's excited, and you who seem "above" the situation. Sighing yourself, you nod. "Yes, Ems. I understand. Well… good luck to you. I'll go to martial arts camp alone."
"Thanks, Tays. Good luck too. You'll need some to learn how to kick ass without being a cape."
You both smile, but you feel a bit more sad when leaving.
Your sadness stays until you meet your first Sifu. Not Sensei? You wonder for a while, before realizing that your inattentive dad had booked you for a month-long camp in a Chinese martial arts camp, while you wanted a Japanese one, to go with the Judo and Aikido classes you had started last year. All the words in Japanese that you learnt were for naught! However, you also notice that the Asians trying to talk privately with their teacher were in for nothing either, as he only spoke American.
Still, there was wisdom to be learnt, even if it implied getting up at ungodly hours. Many boys asked to leave after a full week of doing nothing but breathing exercises, meditation, and taking uncomfortable postures. Introduced as Qi Gong, the technique was the base of all martial arts, for Sifu. And then you started on Taiji Quan, to use the energy you realized you were holding within your body. It was similar to Aikido katas, you believe, and wanted to tell this to Sifu. Another student did it first, only to receive scorn from the teacher, who then mumbled something about Japanese thieves and a war.
After the week of Tai Chi, Sifu offers two classes that expand into the Wudang martial arts: Xing Yi Quan (fist techniques) and Bagua Zhang (circular movement). Most of the practitioners take the first, but you know that you aren't the kind of person to strike an enemy (unless forced to), and you prefer to walk circles around them so that they won't attack you.
And after one week of learning to move like a snake, you choose to complement your techniques with a study of the Crane style of the Shaolin Kung Fu. Why? For the wide arm movements that deflect attacks – same reason as before.
You are also given leaflets about what other courses you could follow on further camps, like Bajiquan, for elbow strikes (for when you can't escape close combat); Mizongyi, for deception; or the Wing Chun style, so popular in recent Earth Aleph movies. You thank your teacher and leave, ready to stay in shape and meditate every day.
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You Touch BaseIt proves to be difficult, though. First is the return home, where dad tells you that, without your mother's salary, he had some difficulties managing the family's finances. He would just have to work harder, and longer hours too. And, no, you aren't an accountant, Taylor, and you can't help. You close your eyes for an instant, and push that annoyance to be meditated on later. When you open them again, you're ready to take more than the minimal lessons in math, to help dad.
That's when the second shoe drops: due to bad finances, you can't go to Arcadia.
"But… I had a grant." you say, once again controlling your mind and body as you have been taught, instead of throwing a teenage-sized temper tantrum (Sifu would be proud of you).
"The grant doesn't cover all the costs, and I'm afraid we can't cover the rest anymore. It will have to be Winslow. At least you'll be with Emma. Isn't it great?"
What? Last you heard, Emma was going to Arcadia. What happened? Dad doesn't know, only telling you that he spoke with Alan, and learned that bit of knowledge from him. After having realized that you couldn't go to Arcadia.
You head outside and take the bus to Emma's place – thankfully, all school-aged pupils have a card allowing them free trip on the regular lines, due to the city not having school-only busses (vandalized as they were in gang fights). On the way, you meditate on the two annoyances, until they don't annoy you anymore. Shit happens, and you have learned to bow to the elements, and weather the storm. Not break.
That state of mind helps, later, when you arrive at Emma's place. And notice her arriving from another direction. "Hi Ems!" you burst happily as you approach. That's when you notice that she's not alone: she's walking alongside another girl, black, with an athletic disposition.
You do the proper thing and introduce yourself. "Good morning, I'm Taylor!"
Your hand stays in the air as the unknown girl looks at your smile for a second before dismissing you. "You know her, Emma?"
You notice that your old friend is… different. Annoyed at having to deal with two friends so different, maybe? Anyways, she sniffs and replies. "It's Taylor, alright. We used to be friends."
Used to be friends? "We are… were… best friends." you almost stutter in your shock, causing the other girl to sneer at you.
"Now you're not." she said viciously. "And since you got the memo, you can now scamper off."
"Emma?" you ask. "You'd really… end it? Like that?"
You can feel Ems is hesitating, but the black girl, still unknown to you, crowds her in and she hardens. "Yes. Now go away, Taylor. I outgrew you."
You are still reeling, and are close to tears when you turn to leave, only for your foot to catch on the other girl's leg, positioned to trip you. And you find yourself on all fours, making her laugh. And you know that you'll hate that laugh forever.
You don't even go up the steps to Emma's home to try to confront her parents: you see as you leave that they are at the windows, looking sadly in your direction but not intervening.
The return trip isn't enough to meditate on this fully. You pause on your way to your bedroom, because you don't want your dad blindsided by something from the Barnes, after this. "Dad? Remember about Emma?"
"Yes? You saw her?"
"I did. Apparently, I'm demoted from best friend to annoying acquaintance."
"Oh… I'm sorry, little owl." he says, getting up to hug you. He's the last person around whom you feel comfortable enough to let yourself cry. "Life's cruel."
"Wise words." you reply. "I'll meditate on that."
"You do that." he looks at you. "Camp was good, I gather?"
You nod. "The best. Thanks."
"Because… you know… it was pre-paid, but I'm not sure you'll be able to… return."
You steel yourself and nod again. "We'll make do." you reply, before returning to your bedroom.
Meditation. Such a simple word for a complex activity. In a week, you barely scratched the concept. Sifu was sure that most students would have forgotten as they moved to more active techniques. But you didn't.
For you, it is a way to deal with hard questions in a way that will let you live peacefully without having them hang on your thought processes, contaminating them. Such as your mother's death.
Emma's breakup with you was painful, almost physically. You shed a few tears over it. But, in the end, you knew before leaving that you'd be separated sooner or later. Better a clean break, perhaps. Even if, Emma not being your friend, the situation implied that you'd go to Winslow without a single friend in the place. From what you heard about the place, it will be difficult: loners are easily picked upon, and Sophia seemed to be of the violently vindictive type.
With this in mind, you tell yourself that you can try to join local martial arts schools, not as a practitioner (because of the costs) but to help the teachers. Some already know you because of your Judo and Aikido lessons, the previous year – obviously discontinued, if what your dad said about finances was true. It won't be a paying job, but you can meet people heading to the same school as you, and start friendships that way.
You can also go to the library, to get an idea of what books they had. For some reasons, studying at Winslow seemed… daunting. You can meet studious types in the book temple, at least, and stick together. And you can check out books about advanced maths and accounting, to help dad. And, speaking of books, you eye the old computer you still have in your bedroom. A year or two over the warranty date, it was already too slow to display a movie fluidly. But word processing was working just fine. And internet mail worked too – your dad may be locked in the "no cell phone" era due to how your mother died, but he kind of needed an internet connection for his own work.
You have learned how to order your mind. Now you can write ordered thoughts about it… or about everything. Stories, even. And perhaps some of them will be published, getting you some money to contribute to the living costs?
That kind of works… slowly.
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You Start HighschoolYou are shocked by Sophia's attitude. While you thought you had a bit of time to build a smattering of friends, you realize that she's already poisoning your life from the get go. And with such a little barb, almost of no consequence (for her). Except that you knew from her smile that it wasn't.
"You're the racist girl who told me off for being black, just because I walked down the street in a rich neighbourhood!" she threw, right in the middle of the midday crowd.
…and that's it. She knows, and you know, that you can't defend yourself against this. She doesn't even have to prove it, as highschools don't have justice or trials – and even if real life does, she knew that her way of doing things applied there, too. Mob mentality.
Despite all this, this is Winslow, a shithole of equal proportions (and opportunities) for everyone. As soon as Sophia launched that, a cultured voice intervened from the upperclassmen on the side.
"Is that how you want to play it, Hess? Throwing hate speech all around like it's going out of style?"
"It's not hate speech! I'm black, so I'm venting the spleen of my people, who built your damn country!"
"Oh, please, that got old on Aleph already. You didn't build anything, neither you or your ancestors. Assuming they were, you know, slaves. Slaves worked in Southern plantations. But with a name like yours, I'd hazard a guess that your family came later. From Germany, perhaps?"
"What? Fuck you, you Hitler wannabe!"
"And that's one strike against you. Comparing people to Hitler is hate speech."
Sophia glowered at the older teen, who, cool as a cucumber, misquoted the rule book – you know that because you read it, meditated on it, and know it perfectly, now. But then, this being Winslow, again, anyone could interpret the thing any way they wanted. Especially the gangs. Speaking of which… wasn't there a gang of racists, around here? Or two?
"Hi there." a girl addressed you with a smile. White, auburn hair, some cat tattoos on her arm. "Nice to meet you. I'm Kathryn."
"Taylor." you answer, smiling as well and shaking her hand. Despite the angry angsty Sophia, perhaps you can spend four semi-peaceful years here.
Wishful thinking won't get you anywhere, and you know it. You just swallow your pride and hide behind the group of white racists protecting you from Sophia, while hoping that nobody will ask for some "payment" down the line.
But Sophia is nothing if not inventive in her attacks against you. When she realizes that she can't get you in school, she starts ambushing you out of it. With friends. And given her opening speech, those friends were easy to get: all of them were black, and properly incensed against their target.
Soon enough, you get out of the bus only to get crowded with these persons-who-happen-to-act-as-thugs. They manhandle you into a sitting position on the bus stop bench, while the bus leaves, and then pull you into a back alley as soon as nobody's around. And you're released, but realize that it's because Sophia wants a fight: she's already there, waiting.
You smile at this, and shake your arms loose.
Your summer camp proves to be useful. Several times, the girl throws a punch at you, and you evade it easily, take advantage of her unbalanced state, and propel her into a wall, the ground, and in a glorious moment, into a dumpster.
But you also know that you ought to get away, and try to do that while the girl is swearing up a storm, distracting her hangers-on. But three of them waited at the mouth of the alley, and while you can evade one, and even two, the third one proves to be too much. And you might be able to evade blows, but not a bear hug. You try kicks and head butt, but your head rings and his doesn't. And you don't have the proper angle to do harm with your dainty shoes.
He carries you back to the dead end of the alley, and throws you in front of Sophia. You know you are in deep shit, but can't help a smile when noticing that she went through literal shit in that garbage.
"Hold her." she says, quite simply. You explode in motion, trying to evade the suddenly mobile mob and Sophia's blows. But you failed at three, what makes you think you can overcome a dozen guys, especially primed as they are?
They hold you, as requested. And Sophia produces a… knife.
"Hey!" the big guy who got you earlier complains. "No playing with dead meat for us, afterwards."
You pale as this confirms one of the mob's objectives: "playing with you" means something every girl fears at times. Rape.
But the knife means that, afterwards, you might die. And that compounds the fear, making it escalate into panic as the boys start to pull at your things. Sheer panic in a life-and-death situation can be deadly… or lead to a life-changing situation. In this world, and especially in this crime-ridden town, new parahumans emerge like clockwork, perhaps because of the widespread criminality.
Perhaps people like Sophia or the Merchants should be rewarded, too, for granting others opportunities go get trigger-related superpowers… or perhaps not.
For you, your almost physical need to exert your hard-won skills against the bigger (and more numerous) opponents was what led the change – although it started with you going limp in their arms as your brain rewires. Strangely enough, Sophia leaves for the land of nod, as well… except that she wasn't held firmly. Her head made a nice-sounding note when hitting the ground.
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You Become SomethingAnd, suddenly, the whole lot of what you know from your summer camp becomes insignificant in front of the larger parcel downloaded into your brain.
"Guys." you say, in a calm voice. "I know kung-fu."
"So whaaaAAARGH!" the first answer comes from the big lug behind you, as he flies when you bend forwards. His flight is interrupted quickly, though, when his head impacts the far wall. The two holding your arms recoil, the first in pain because of the kick you made (even with an awkward angle) into his privates, while the second was hit with both palms against his temples.
Three steps forward place you near Sophia, and you turn to face the crowd. You know not only kung-fu and its numerous variants, but the philosophical aspects of Zen Buddhism. And one of those is the idea that everything in the universe can be explained as a duality.
And as you realize this, you stop moving altogether… while another yourself explodes out of you. Your immobile self is dark as the night with indistinct contours, body and clothes included. Strangely enough, you have more curves than your normal body does. And purely white eyes.
On the opposite side of things, your other self is more masculine, has black eyes over a skin (and clothes) so white so as to be blinding. And he's moving all the time, as if unable to settle down. As if he can't be held down.
Of course, they will end up with the name Yin and Yang. Your downloaded knowledge tells you that Yin is the female part of things, but also represents the planets, shadows, cold, flood, and passivity (that's not to say that all of those concepts belong together, not at all); while Yang is the opposite: male, the sun, light, heat, drough, and activity. Each complements the other, and both must be together for balance and stability.
For now, though, the assembled thugs decide that fighting what was obviously a cape was a bad idea, and they flee – minus the ones who can't, due to an acute case of unconsciousness. Which includes Sophia herself.
You return to yourself, ending your Breaker state, and look down at her. Should you kill her? Your new philosophy frowns on that, and your upbringing too. You'd leave her, then… but that would leave her at the mercy of people prowling around. You could…
She awakes, slowly, and groans as she holds her head. And then the reality of where she is sinks in and she jumps to her feet looking around wildly – although the move makes her sway dangerously. And she sees you, as you approach to steady her.
"What are you doing?" she growls.
"I was waiting for you to wake up." you reply honestly, still helping her stand with a hand around her biceps. "Seems you banged your head pretty bad."
She groans, and then tries to shake your grasp away. She can't, and tries harder, pushing you away… and ends up on all fours.
"Do you really want to go to the hospital like that?" you ask. "Let me help you get there, at least."
"What's in it for you?" she demands, almost snarling. "To parade me in front of everyone? Making it look like you're stronger than me?"
"Right now, I am stronger than you." you reply matter-of-factly, your hands moving outwards in a gesture that encompass the whole alley.
You don't know why you answered that, but she finally remembers parts of what happened before her nap. First, the fact that you fought well. And then, the fact that you were surrounded… and are still there, and healthy. "So… I'm prey, now?" she asks sourly. "Fair game, and all?"
"Not at all." Your own perceptions have intuited her way of thinking, and you realize that her philosophy was quite basic: people were predator, or prey. One ate the other. She didn't even see that some bigger predators hunted other predators, in a chain that ultimately ended with… humans. And capes. And Endbringers. And Scion. For now. "Can you accept that different people think differently? That some don't follow your particular creed? That people can change, become stronger, or weaker, over time?"
"You want to change my-"
"Not at all, again." you reply, holding your hand up (your other is still held for her to take it and stand again). "Just as I have my reasons for doing what I do, you have your own for your own deeds. But we can still stay civil to each other… and you can let me help you get treatment."
It takes her a long time to process this. And then she takes your hand. "Thanks." she says, almost too low for you to hear.
You walk out of the alley, and you see the bus stop where you got out. "My house is that way." You tell her, pointing East. "Do you feel you can walk there?"
"Why?" she asks.
"To phone the hospital."
She looks at you and then shakes her head slowly – going fast would worsen her migraine. "You don't have painkillers?"
"You don't want to go to the hospital?" you shoot back.
It takes her a long time to nod. "I'm not covered."
"Ah." you reply simply, helping her amble towards your home. You want to ask why, but some reasons are evident. "I didn't know it was possible to go to school without insurance."
She shrugs, and regrets it immediately as she winces in pain. "Most insurances cover the harm you do to others. If I'm the only one without, no problem for me."
"Until you attack someone… and they sue you. Prey might be prey, but they can group and push back. Have you seen the Lion King? It might be a kid's story, but lions die all the time when they're not cautious while hunting cattle."
She opened her mouth to counter your first words, but froze as you continued. She has to know that, given her aggressiveness, it would happen sooner rather than later. Then it would be her parental figures who'd be on the line. Sophia's life seems complicated, and you realize that if your father doesn't succeed in managing your family's budget better, it could be yours. Perhaps even her worldview has been derived from her lifestyle.
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You Turn an EnemyWordlessly, you guide her over the defective step, and on your couch. And then you go fetch some aspirin and a glass of water. And you see her watch around her slowly.
"Here's your medication." you say with a small smile.
"Thanks." she replies and swallows it. And then she looks around again.
"What is it?" you ask.
"It's clean."
"Thank you, I try." you reply. "But if you have been to Emma's, I know her mum keeps her house even tidier – or the maid she pays for does it, in fact."
She nods. Slowly. "Emma told me about yours. Sorry." she mumbles, and you get the impression that she doesn't ask for forgiveness quite often.
More betrayal from Emma? Or just a vague indication to someone who was becoming her friend. "So… I wondered, how did you and Emma become friends?"
She looks at you for a while before lowering her gaze towards her glass of water. "Maybe later." she admits, and you wonder if the blow to the head had brought her thoughts in their proper place.
You don't want her to return to her previous state, though, and nod at her words. "I'll hold you to that. Now, do you want us to be friends?"
"Friends?" she starts. "How can we be? I… You-"
"You're here, in my home, and you accepted something I gave you to eat and drink. Under the old hospitality rules, we don't harm each other while you stay." You smile. "Do you want to stay for dinner? I'll make lasagne – it's the recipe I'm best at, perhaps because mum taught me."
She looks at you as if trying to decipher your words. "You're weird, Hebert."
"Hi!" you counter, holding your hand up, near your head. "I'm Taylor. We might not share the same views on anything, but we can still be friend-ly acquaintances." you adlib as "friend" was quite a large step for Sophia.
"Hi. Sophia. And… likewise."
"Magnifique! If you're up to it, you can come into the kitchen while I cook. That way, we can continue our chat."
"Mahnyfik?"
"Oh, sorry, that's French. For magnificent. Like "wunderbar", for German, or "hualy deh" in Chinese. I like taking one word and trying to find how it's said in several languages. It gives ideas about how words travelled around the world."
She sat on a chair a bit clumsily, and winced while holding her head.
"Sorry! Emma called me motor-mouth, at times. I'll try to be less so, for your headache."
Another slow nod, followed by a deadpan "Please do."
For a while, you cook, and she watches you doing the thing. That evening, it would be spinach-based, with a bit of bacon, and a couple thin mozzarella layers in between and on top. You're happy to have made a tentative friend in the haughty girl, and you have to force yourself not to speak a mile a minute. Or sing. Instead, you hum.
When you finally latched the food in the oven and set the timer, you see Sophia looking at you. "What is it?" she asks.
"Lasagne. Flat pasta, with spinach layers-"
"Not that. What you hummed."
It takes a moment for you to remember the title (mostly because you didn't choose it consciously), and then you smile. "Cello suite number one, from Bach. Mom loved cello. She couldn't play, though." and, with that, you go back to the living room.
"Why?" she asks, as she follows. "I mean… if I can ask-"
"She was more of an intellectual, and less of a manual sort of person. She was good at thinking, and organizing, and teaching… but bad at doing." you say, your mood slightly souring as you remember the last thing she was bad as doing. "Anyways, here it is!"
The sound system is old, and the disc is equally old, but the sound is still there, and the cello notes float in the air. And Sophia, who has never heard a music with a single instrument playing while tugging at the soul… is paralyzed. After it ends, she stares at the empty air for a while, before looking at you. And you can see that her eyes are suspiciously wet. "What was that?" she asks.
"The first cello suite from Bach, as I said."
"I never heard of it. Is it new?"
You can't prevent the snort of laughter at that question. "No! It's three hundred years old!"
"Then how comes I never heard it before?"
You shrug. "People frown on classical music, nowadays."
"That is classical music? I was told classical music was made by white Nazis slave-owners."
"Technically, three hundred years ago, there wasn't a single Nazi anywhere in the world. And most countries participated in the trade of slaves… buying and selling. As for the whiteness, it's true, but only because they happened to be where that music was composed: in Europe. But independently of all this, music is music, you know?"
She nods. "I understand. Normal music is sound and people chanting over it. Classical music had no singer and only one instrument."
You make a so-so gesture. "There are symphonies, with hundreds of musicians. And operas, where you add a story, with singers. Most classical operas are in Italian."
"Why?"
You shrug. "People of that area, at that time, were all Catholics. Some wrote music for masses, which were done in Latin. Everyone who wanted in, in that crowd, had to know several languages."
"Mmmm." Sophia replied non-commitally. "Maybe later."
"I'm not pushing you towards operas. I don't like them much, personally. I prefer a few pieces of music without singer. Some of them speak directly to the heart."
"So I've noticed." your guest replies, nodding, before straightening up. "But don't think that I'm going to fall in with your crowd, now, Heb… Taylor! German music by whiteys? I'm sure the Empire listens to them too."
"Of course they would! Since they can't take anything from any culture that isn't theirs, nowadays, they can only take that one. But liking the music is not the same as liking the ideas of other people who like the same music: it's not like a song, in that it doesn't have lyrics. Besides, you liked what you heard, that doesn't make you an Empire wannabe, right?"
"Are you one, though?"
"Truly, no. Not even by a long shot. I was only sought after by people when they saw you attacking me."
"What?"
You nod. "You didn't notice? When you attack people you consider prey, they take that prey under their wing, potentially increasing the whole mob. And remember that a single predator can't fight a large enough mob."
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You Work Things Out"You should let go of some aggression, Sophia." you say when you feel she digested your earlier bit.
"But… how? I want to fight! I… need to."
"Sparring sessions? With me?"
She scoffs at the surroundings. "Here?"
You ignore the jab. "I spend some time at the local school for martial arts. We can do it there. Or continue meeting in back alleys."
She blushes so much that you notice. "Yeah… that… sorry."
"You wanted to kill me."
"I said sorry, alright?"
"I triggered."
"I said… what?"
"You heard. I figure that, with the friends you brought and who saw me, you'll know soon enough, so I tell you in advance so as not to surprise you."
"I made you trigger." she breathe. "And… you don't want to kill me in return?"
You look at her in the eyes. "I felt the urge to, yes. But then I chose not to."
"And you helped me instead." she said dejectedly. "What for? Are you a Master? Is this why I'm not attacking you?"
"I'm not a Mast-"
"Because if you are, there are laws against that, you know."
"I'm not-"
"I know them, you know? I studied some of them."
To shut her up, you activate your power, and have your mobile half circle around her, before returning to you. "I'm not a Master. I'm a Breaker, with some Brute and Striker abilities. At least that's what I gather from our first test."
She shudders. "In the interest of fairness… and because you don't seem that angry against the cause of your trigger, compared to me… and also because Emma knows too, and it will be difficult to hide things if we go to school together…"
"You're a cape too?" you ask.
"You mean… you don't know?"
"Not… exactly. But you took your sweet time to get there, too. So. Is that linked to what happened with Emma?"
"Kind of. She was assaulted when coming back from one of her modelling gigs. ABB gangbangers wanted to cut her ears."
"And you intervened. Nice of you, thanks. But don't call them gangbangers, please. Gangbangs being what they are, I prefer we don't associate "being in a gang" with that… situation."
"What sit- oh. Oh, right."
At that time, the timer indicate the end of the cooking, and you turn the oven off. "You want to do some martial arts? There's an hour left at the local school."
She shrugs. "You know what? You're on! I'll kick your ass!"
You smile and lead her there, and the two of you then spend that hour at the corner of the dojo, not interrupting or participating in the course that was going on – because, after all, you didn't pay, and that corner was only granted to you, from time to time, because of the unpaid hours you do for them.
However, at the end of the scheduled course, the teacher makes the two of you approach. "I noticed the two of you practising." he says, before turning towards Sophia specifically. "You don't seem to have a proper technique. You can join us to learn some." And then he turns to you. "As for you, Taylor, I noticed that your technique has significantly changed from the Aikido I taught you."
You blush. "I went to a summer camp for martial arts, and dad mixed two of them. I ended up learning Kung Fu instead. Dragon form was good for grabbing and pulling."
"Oh, I understand. My condolences." he said with a bow, but also a smile indicating that he was joking.
"Of course, since then, I kept training and improving." you can't help but add. "I know that I didn't join your group this year, but it was due to budget difficulties, nothing personal."
"I understand as well. But I'm curious, and I'd like to spar a bit with you, if you'd like."
You nod. He was always fair and even-tempered, and you don't see any harm in some free practice – as long as you remember not to act too good, of course.
Unfortunately, he notices that your feints are a little more evident than you could make them, and that your speed isn't consistent. But when he concludes with an interrogative stare, you look pointedly at the group around you. He nods, then, getting the message. "Well, that was nice. It's not everyday that I can meet people able to mix-and-match styles so well. You have a future in martial arts, young woman, perhaps even in becoming a mistress of the arts and open your own school to teach your own style, as the masters of old."
"Hai, sensei." you reply, making him smile. "Domo arigato."
As you leave, Sophia walking beside you, she leans towards you. "You speak Chinese, now?"
"That was Japanese. And the first words I learned in varying languages are "hello", "bye", "yes", "no", "please"… and "thank you"."
She snorts. "Of course, with all this, you can manage most of the basics, miming or pointing for the rest."
"Simple conversations, yes. But more than that…"
"Like how to get food, for instance?"
"I know "meal" and "water" in several languages too." you reply with a smirk. "Speaking of which, you want some of that lasagne?" you ask as you near your home.
"I think I do. I watched you make them, and it was strangely appetizing, despite the spinach appearance."
"Alright. And… here we are. But I don't know who this is." you say, pointing at the car parked in front of your house. You can both hear voices from inside, and enter cautiously.
The voices stop arguing, right then, and you notice your dad… and Alan Barnes. With Emma behind her father. The two dads seem angry.
"Alright… so… I made lasagne." you say, deciding to break some of the ice. "Who wants some?"
"You made enough?" Sophia asks first, your dad a close second.
And then, he frowns and looks towards the redheads. "Is Emma your friend again?" he asks softly.
"Not yet." you reply sotto voce. "But things might change soon."
"Keep me informed, then. Alright, little owl?" And, as you nod in answer, he opens a cupboard and speaks in a normal voice again. "Alan, Emma, want a plate? If my nose doesn't deceive me, it's spinach lasagne, and already quite good."
"I remember liking them, when Annette made them." Alan says, before wincing as he notices both you and your dad flinch. "Sorry."
"We have mourned her for so long." your dad says. "But I feel I have abandoned Taylor, in doing so."
You don't answer, too choked up for speech. Especially in front of your two bullies. Sophia seems to have turned around, although it has required you to turn into someone stronger than she was. Emma was something else, but seeing Sophia strangely amicable around you, she keeps her usual barbs away and becomes slightly more the friend you hoped to have at the beginning of the school year.
You hope that it will last.
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You Become a HeroSchool continues, with the added change of Sophia and Emma including you in their group, to the shock of their earlier hangers-on. And yours.
"What are you doing with her, Taylor?" asks Kathryn, the girl who has befriended you when you were down.
"I have made a new friend." you reply.
"Don't you know that she wanted to kill you, earlier?"
"Kill me? I won't go that far. But yes, I'm aware." you say, noticing Sophia's suddenly rigid posture. "But it's in the past, now."
"Like that? And now?"
"Now what?"
"You won't be friend with me anymore, will you?"
"I don't see why I can't be friend with both of you. After all, one can't have too many friends. I'm not asking you to be friends with my other friends, either."
You can practically see the wheels turning in her head, which is why you added that last bit. You know who she hangs out with, habitually, and you don't want her hurt by your choices. But, in the time you have met her, you have discovered an interesting girl, and you know you would be hurt if she was to disavow you now.
It takes her some time to digest this, but she nods slowly. "Alright. But there are some things I won't accept."
"Same here. Let's keep a lid on it for now, right?"
"Alright."
You shake hands, and she leaves. Sophia is aghast, but you hold your hand up. "She was friendly when I needed it. I know who defended me when you attacked, and I know which of them spouted vitriol afterwards. She's clean. Relatively."
It takes Sophia some time, but she ends up nodding. "How did you say it? I'll keep a lid on this."
"Yeah. That way, we can stay friends."
"Good."
"And, speaking of gaining friends and sparring sessions, I had a talk with my dad, yesterday."
"Oh?" Emma asks. "What about?"
"Joining the Wards."
She immediately clams down, and Sophia becomes agitated and looks around. "Don't speak of this here!" she whispers intently.
"You won't have me as a friend if you go there." Emma replies sullenly.
"As I told Kathryn, we can have many friends. We will just have more of them."
"You'll leave for Arcadia." she counters.
"I don't think Sophia wants to go there." you say, and Sophia agrees with you. "And I'll stay with you two. Besides, Blackwell will practically salivate when she's told: school hosting Wards get some additional funding."
"I don't want to go to the Wards, too." Sophia says dejectedly. "Since when did you become our leader?"
You smile. "Never. I just give some ideas for discussion. Why don't you want to go there?"
"PRT is government." she answers, directing her steps towards one of the lesser-travelled corridors. "Government screws people over."
"While that may be true, there are also friends you can find there. And… there's funding to be had. Names. Uniforms."
"Please tell me you'll think about things before letting them decide on your name and costume." she pleads. "I heard stories of people letting their PR department manage the thing… brrr…" she shivers in mock horror. Or true horror, you don't really know.
"I'll think about it." you agree. "How about Yin and Yang?"
"Two names? Ah, yes, you-"
"For the two of us."
"-split yourself in two. What? No! I'm not ascribing to that Chinese nonsense. I'm not some Yangban fan: I'm Shadow Stalker! Always have, and always will be."
You shrug. "Okay. I'll be that. And for a costume, I'll make something in black and white, half-male and half-female."
It's her turn to shrug. "As you wish. This Saturday?"
You nod. And, after the last work days of that week, the two of you enter the PRT and end up as Wards – to the delight of the pint-sized heroine already there: Vista. "Girls, at least!" she exclaims, and then frowns when looking at your costume: one side was white trouser and vest, the other black robe and shirt; and a cloth helmet completed the disguise, showing no skin. "Or… trans?"
"No, I'm a girl." you say. "It's just that my power includes a Breaker state in which… let me show you."
And you do. And she understands, seeing the two figures you have become – each an extension of one half of your costume. "Alright. But we can speak of girl things, right?"
From the corner of your eye, you see Sophia ready to sneer at the youngster, but you frown and shake your head at her. "Of course. Just not all the time, alright?"
She nods enthusiastically, and you smile – both for that and because of Sophia's eye roll behind her.
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You Train with FriendsPower training at the PRT has nothing to do with the friendly sparring sessions you did with Sophia (including the not-so friendly ones, at the beginning). They really push you to do better, and it shows. While Sophia wants to keep some aspects of her powers unknown, you are deliberately honest when doing the tests, and push yourself to your limits and beyond.
The result is a list of techniques you can apply, some in your normal body, others when in your Breaker state (whether with your separate parts or one at a time).
Apparently, Yin is mostly invulnerable when not moving, and that "not moving" can be based on the ground you stand on, but on other sets of coordinates as well. She (because it's your female part) can stay in place when the ground moves, anchoring herself on the planet. She can also stays on a moving vehicle, not caring about winds. Her invulnerability applies both to projectiles and energies. The former simply stop moving when touching her, and the latter fizzle out.
Yang, your male part, is not invulnerable, but he's quite fast. Less than Velocity, but still able to evade bullets much like in Matrix, the Earth Aleph movie. Like the girl in the movie Shaolin Soccer (or Po in Kung Fu Panda 2), he's able to move the air with his limbs to create vortexes able to stop projectiles, and throw them back.
When you are yourself again, you can count on an increased skill in martial arts. In fact, as you move around a given battlefield, you contort around the various attack vectors, in a flowing motion that always ends up with the enemies attacking each other, or their attacks turning against themselves – such as having a punch moved sideways to hit a wall, or a knife that ends up reversed, or a gun that goes off when the hand that holds it aims at the owner's feet.
You almost got Miss Militia, that way (the "almost" was because you slowed, at the end), and she was shocked for a while… before asking to spar regularly with you, to improve herself. Other Protectorate heroes follow too, such as Armsmaster (whom almost fell to that, as well). The Wards, too. It's not to say that you become a teacher, but rather an interesting sparring partner for those wanting to gain close-combat experience without risking their life in an actual battle.
It helped the Wards, incidentally: being better at this, they suffered less when facing physical villains like the Empire 88's. Not on purpose (never, in fact), but things happened during patrols, and sometimes you were surrounded and had to fight your way out instead of fleeing back to base.
One of these fights started with a standard patrol, interrupted by a message from Vista (still mostly on Console duty): police has been called for an on-going mugging nearby.
"Yeah! Action!" Sophia exclaimed, jumping straight towards said action. It could have been fatal, as she lost consciousness mid-jump and ended sprawled on the next roof. The loss of consciousness made you wary, and you approach in your Breaker state, Yang darting forward while Yin held back.
You find a girl, unconscious, and a half-dozen skinheads jeering around her, starting to pull at her clothes. You also notice that, on the roof nearby, two recognizable parahumans are starting to wake up: Stormtiger and Cricket. It looks like the downed girl triggered, but she's still in a bad situation.
You send Yin to stand in front of the girl, while Yang darts to the Nazi capes, using speed to disarm them and zip-tie them to the nearest support.
"Cape!" two goons exclaim before fleeing the scene. The others are high already, or think that their own cape will interfere if it goes badly for them, and they press their attack.
Yin is relatively slow, but she can manifest new limbs when enough projectiles are to be stopped cold. Or punches and kicks. Four arms are enough to deal with four enemies, although one of them slips around her and aims his pistol at the downed teen. And fires.
Yang is there in an instant and diverts the course of the bullet. And it's only when he faces her, really, that he recognizes her.
It's Emma. And, apparently, she hadn't needed his help on this last action: her power included a Changer aspect, with a secondary shape that was bigger, stronger, and tougher. She also had horns and bat wings. No, she wasn't a gargoyle: she was a demon. And she could surround herself in fire, and throw it.
We got all this when she tested her powers with us, at the PRT, because she joined us in the Wards program – after we got rid of the mooks and brought the captured capes to parahuman jail.
As to the fact that she hadn't triggered when she had been attacked, the first time… you have an idea. According to the current theory, trigger events needed a specific brain structure, the Corona Pollentia. The trigger created the Gemma structure that allowed the conscious use of a parahuman power. But it had never been suggested that this trigger event could be the second of such happenstances, with a first one creating the first brain structure.
For you, with meditation, you pinpoint the first event at your mother's death. For Emma, it's when the ABB attacked her.
This analysis may be not exact, but you stick to it as other cases confirm it. And when you speak about it with Doctor Yamada (for your mandatory psychological evaluation, courtesy of the Youth Guard), she blinks and reveals that nobody had thought of that.
She thanks you, later, and asks you if you want your name cited in a paper she writes on the subject. You agree, and suggest other things to explore, such as why the parahumans are so geared towards violence. Your meditation allowed you to be calmer than the others, but you feel the draw, and you had noticed that becoming a cape changed the people.
"You might write the whole thing yourself." the Doctor said. "Or keep it for a master's thesis."
You smile. Despite the fact that most cape die only a few years after they become so, you now have a longer-term objective for your civilian identity.
That… and martial arts mastery, of course.
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To be continued… yexu