by Louis IX
Check first chapter for disclaimer and global warnings.
Girl Scout"Bye, Emma!" Taylor shouts after her friend, as the two of them leave school for the summer. "See you next week, at the camp!"
That brings Emma short enough for Taylor's long strides to reach her. "I'm not going." she mumbles.
"What? Why? You used to love it! All the girls, and the nature, and the stuff we learn, and-"
The prodded redhead lifts her head and stares at her friend. "Exactly. I used to. Now I don't. I won't follow you there another year."
"But… why?"
Emma sighs. She knew that this would come. "I don't want to follow anymore. I want to lead."
"But, you can! There are badges about leading, too!"
"I don't want to get any more badges, too!" Emma exclaims. "Don't you see? These are for kids."
Taylor has several rebuttals in mind, right then. Most notably among those were the students wearing pins, like Emma's sister, and the military vets wearing medals, like her father Alan. However, she thinks that older people have other tastes, and tries another Girl Scout tack instead. "And the help for the neighbours? We used to visit your neighbours too, remember? Selling cookies, and the like."
"Dad said that it was good while I was a kid. Now that I'm growing up, he wants me to do something else. Mom arranged for modelling." She smiles, and it is pretty… despite not reaching her eyes. "Think of it as a beauty camp. I'll get rich faster, and beautiful too"
"Okay." Taylor replies slowly. "Have fun, then, at your own camp."
"Not everyone is like you, Taylor." Emma says, trying for a parting shot. "Not everyone likes digging toilets and poop in the woods. Have fun with that!"
"Hey, you helped! And you did, too."
"And I hated that. I hated that whole "help the poor" shtick, too. I'm not a goody-two-shoes like you, Taylor. Two left shoes, at that." Emma ends up saying, before hurrying to where her mother was waiting with the car.
Taylor is too stunned to react to that, and lowers her head in shame, too. Because it's true that she's quite clumsy, in her ever-growing body. She knows that she'll never join Emma and gracefully strut, modelling clothes. In the several minutes she spends alone, she has enough time for the tears to start falling.
And then mom comes."What is it, my little owl?" she asks, only to be retold what happened with hiccups punctuating every sentence.
"Two left shoes, she said?" Annette asks. "Well, you are tall – you're already taller than me. You must have inherited it from Daniel, by the way: he too seems gangly and clumsy, sometimes. But it's only an appearance, first, and he has had time to get used to his body. You are still growing, like a weed, and it's normal to be uncoordinated, at times. You think that you are all knees and elbows, because you always hit them into furniture."
"Gee, thanks, mom, for the vote of confidence." Taylor pouted, arms crossed and eyes on her side of the road.
"I was going there, dear. Think of it this way: you're taller than her. In all probability, you always will be. It's perhaps what motivated her to leave your side, your shadow, in order to shine by herself? Whatever the case, I think that modelling is a wrong direction. Have you seen what top models look like? If there are any that are anything but tall and thin, I'll eat my hat."
Taylor snorted at that. "Mom… you don't have hats."
"I know, right?" the woman winked. "Best not bet on things you aren't sure about: there are models for all sizes. But they are not at the so-called "top". You could go there, if you wanted."
"I don't." Taylor mumbles sullenly, returning her eyes to the cityscape passing by her window.
"And I'm glad to hear that, because that environment is flush with dangers for young girls. I'll have a few words with Zoe about that."
"Mom, you don't have to-" Taylor starts, only to be interrupted.
"I know, dear. I won't speak about you or Emma, if you don't want me to. I'll just ask about where she sends her daughter, and ask some people I know whether they are trustworthy."
"The people you know." Taylor says, her tone deadpan.
"The people I know, yes." Annette agrees. "You remember I was in college, once?"
Taylor blushes. "Dad might have said a few things about that, yes. About how you two met. And more."
"Well, you are old enough to know some things. And I'm not talking about that, yet, young lady. Now, uncover your ears, please."
"Alright. Done." Taylor utters, knowing that her mother disliked having to look anywhere else than the road, when driving.
"It also reflects back on Emma's comment about us "goody-two-shoes"." the mother growls. "I know I find myself happy when helping people, and that you are a bit like that, too. I went to the Girl Scouts, and had fun there, and I have no doubt that you do, too. I prefer to see the best in people, because I find the opposite abhorrent and depressing."
"Hear, hear, ye of the long words." Taylor mutters, just loud enough for her mother to hear. And smile.
"Yes, now hush or I get the four-syllables."
"I'm good." It's Taylor's turn to smile, as she likes that kind of banter.
"When I was in college, I met with other people like me. I initially thought I would meet many people, with varied opinions, and I was ready to argue my case… but the Literature majors and Women Studies student were all women, and had all the same ideas."
"How comes you're the best Literature teacher, with all that competition?"
"Several factors." Annette replies with a smirk. "But back to my story. With how gung-ho I was about helping the poor be less poor, and redress all the inequalities I perceived, I failed to take into account the starting points of these inequalities. I ended up following one of my fellow students when she started rallies for women rights. As a woman myself, it felt natural, you see? However, she didn't want equal treatment or anything of the sort: she wanted to get rid of men. You might have heard about her, in your parahuman classes."
"When was that, mom? A hundred years ago?"
"Very funny, young grasshopper. You do know how old I am, I hope. Sure, it was before you were born. But it's still a subject that you have studied – and I know that, because I still watch your homework, you know. She was Birdcaged."
"Alright, alright. I give." A pause. "You followed a villain? You followed… was that Lustrum? What the… mom?"
"As you said yourself, it was a long time ago. Last century, in fact."
Taylor snorts at that. "True. And that's a joke I won't be able to make."
"Not so fast, young lady! You were born last century, too."
Taylor makes a grimace, at that, but also proves her ability to follow a subject by readdressing it. "What's the point with Lustrum?"
"Well, it was a bit of history about me, your mother, and also a way to say that you can help others, but beware of others taking advantage of that."
"And?"
"And I'm proud of you for wanting to continue going to the Girl Scout camps, even without Emma. I hope the people there can continue inculcating you with abnegation and generosity. I know digging toilets isn't-"
"Mom!"
"-that glorious, but people have to do it, right? That's another lesson for you: if nobody wants to do it, what happens?"
"Thank you, Professor Mother, for giving homework during summer vacations." Taylor grunts.
"You're welcome." Annette answers graciously, before needling her daughter again. "So? What happens?"
Taylor thinks about it for a few seconds. "It doesn't happen."
"Exactly. It doesn't happen. If nobody works on basic amenities in a regular fashion, we'll all drown in a river of…"
"Of?" Taylor asks, with a smirk.
"You know very well. All the same with the other services: if no one picks trash, we'll have mountains of trash in front of everyone's door. And rats. And plagues. You can't have civilized life without having a few people doing those undesirable jobs."
"So… is that a recruitment pitch, mom? Do you want me to work at picking trash?"
"Well… you will do as you will do, and I'll be proud of you no matter what you choose to do. But given what I know of you, dear daughter, I think you'll find a more rewarding place in a job that stimulates the intellect."
"I know! I will be the coordinator for those trash trucks!" Taylor says, and they both laugh as the car makes the last turn into their home's driveway.
Several days later, the same car delivers Taylor into a parking swarming with other girls in uniform, and a big coach in the middle. Summer camp begins! But first, they have stow their backpacks in said coach, and take a seat inside.
"Why so sad?" asks the girl sitting next to her.
"I'm not." Taylor replies, not moving from looking forlornly outside. She has always been closer to Emma than anyone else, and can't find to words to start another friendship.
"Whatever." the other concludes rudely, before turning towards the two sitting at the other side of the aisle – in a group of three, her sitting place was chosen to be with them, and she doesn't speak with Taylor again.
She still throws looks at her, from time to time, with her two friends giggling in the background. Taylor looks outside and doesn't see most of this. And she doesn't care either.
"Welcome, girls, welcome!" an old and rotund woman exclaim, her blue vest entirely covered in badges of all sorts. Of course, the most prominent is the one indicating her job as camp director.
Apparently, she's a competent one: under her leadership, the whole unloading (of girls and their bags) takes less than ten minutes. And then the coach leaves, letting the troop settle in relative silence.
"I hope the trip was pleasant, and that we will spend a good time together. During the trip, you have been assigned to a group with one of our counsellors, and introduced to them. They have conformed to a few of your wishes, but perhaps not all of them. That is intentional, and our groups are fixed. You'll see that each group is mixed, too, in many senses such as age and capabilities in various fields. That will help making things fair when the groups will be competing, later."
As a skilled orator, she knows that some announcements generate hushed whispers, and waits for a bit for the silence to return.
"You'll soon follow them out, as each group will settle in a different location. This year, our camp will include tents, that you'll install yourselves. Then, we will have several days of work with trees and wood to build basic furniture such as chairs and tables. Of course, each of these activities will generate experience to gain badges! I know you love them."
Another pause, with a few titters and some more whispers.
"Meals and other communal activities involving all groups will be announced through this horn." She pauses to blow it twice. "And will all start here." Saying this, she designates the area around them – a large grassy square, surrounded on three sides by the forest, with the fourth a lakeshore. "Given our location, sports will include climbing trees and swimming."
Taylor tunes the rest out, as sporting events weren't her specialty. Especially those involving acrobatics (two left feet, remember) and water (as a thin girl, she has a higher density, and tends to sink when pushed into water). So, instead, she thinks about those badges the camp director told about.
You see, each Girl Scout gains a sash upon which she (or her mother, often enough) can sew a bit of fabric indicating a particular knowledge or proficiency: how to make knots, fire, and food; how to recognize edibles in wilderness; how to cut wood and use it to build makeshift furniture; how do give first aid; how to not get lost; how to run, swim, and even sail. There are also badges for events (such as those given out at each camp) and achievements. The previous year, Taylor has won one because her team had won the knowledge championship, and another because it was such a joyous time that she has smiled almost all the time.
Because of this last badge, she forces herself to smile again and endure, despite her current sadness and relative isolation. And after a time, she's occupied in other activities, each of them geared towards gaining other badges for her sash.
When Emma was there, the two of them started a friendly rivalry (initiated by Emma, who seemed to have inherited her father's competition spirit) to see who would get the most of them. Without Emma, Taylor is left to continue alone, and she does so with a single-mindedness that gets her a badge for her perseverance alone.
However, things can go from bad to worse, and often do.
While she was there, Emma was also a shield of sorts, for Taylor. Knowing how to navigate society (a trait inherited from her mother, apparently), she has snubbed the appropriate persons so as not to be annoyed during camps. And without her, Taylor finds that even girl scouts have bullies – one even had a badge for it!
Her own scarf ends up stolen, near the end of that camp, and she leaves in tears, with no proof of all her hard work. And a net loss too, as each badge costs a pretty penny (for a girl who gets close to no spending money).
On the drive back to her hometown, she decides that she'll do the badges herself, if needed, using cross-stitching or embroidery – she has seen her mother do so, a few times, and resolves to ask her. She also can't wait for the grade level at which they would use vests instead of sashes, easily taken away and hidden. As she thinks about this, she reflects that things will go better, afterwards. That they can't be worse.
Bad to worse? You betcha! It's Earth Bet, here, people.
On the parking lot, she finds Kurt and Lacey, her parents' best friends, and also her godparents. Both have sad expressions, but she doesn't dare ask why, and the drive home is silent. Lacey tries to start speaking several times, only to end up choking up each time. And causing Taylor's apprehensiveness to shoot up each time.
At home, she finds a distraught father, and no mother. Kurt and Lacey stay for a bit, but they have their own life to live and return home in the night. Taylor cries herself to sleep, and she's sure her father is too.
Emma and her family is at the funeral, and the two fathers hug for a short time, but Alan leaves soon afterwards – with their daughters starting to have their own activities, they have grown more distant than ever.
At home, Taylor spends a week crying non-stop. She doesn't eat if nothing it brought under her nose, and even then she has to be nudged. Kurt and Lacey help, but they aren't there all the time. And, one day, an enfeebled Taylor falls down the stairs and breaks her leg.
That shakes Daniel out of his torpor, and he realizes the horrible mistake of neglecting his daughter in favour of his grief, overwhelming as it may be. In a very short moment of selfishness, he wonders if she would be better taken care of with the Barnes, or with Lacey. And then he slaps himself, hard.
He brings her to the hospital, where her leg is set in a cast. And, afterwards, he takes care of her. He might have to swallow his grief when doing so, but as some might advise, it is a good grieving method. Even if it doesn't prevent them from spending enough time crying alone.
Being given the task of finding something to do by herself, for when he can't take care of her, Taylor reflects back upon her missing sash and badges. She starts by making a list of those she remembers having (having memorized the count, it helps being sure she has them all) and then draw them.
And then she tries to re-create them… and stabs the needle in her fingers enough times that she spoils several attempts. Still, the badge for Perseverance taunts her, so she continues, and ends up with a passable version.
She does several, that way, and decides that she would try for a Sewing badge, next time. But she has another idea when she sees her father walk out of his bedroom, the next day: behind him, in said room, is her mother's sewing machine.
"Hey, dad?" she asks softly.
"Yes, Taylor?"
"Can I use…" She can't say "Mom" right now, without crying, so she doesn't and swallows her spike of grief. "The sewing machine?"
He looks behind him, and notices the thing. He swallows as well, several times, before nodding.
"Thank you. Can you show me?"
"I... don't know how, sweetie. But…" Choke. Swallow. "There should be a book around it." Smile of remembrance. "She had to look through it often enough, I remember…" The remembrance shatters, again. "Maybe later."
She nods.
The next day, they sit on the bed, slowly. It's her side, after all, and they don't want to disturb anything. "Do you prefer to try it first, or we try to find the instructions?"
"The manual, I think." Taylor replies. "I remember when… it's finicky, right?"
He snorts. "And temperamental, too. Annette… that's the only thing that can make her swear." Swallow. "You're right. Better read the thing before trying. And find it, too."
So they search for it, find it amongst a treasure trove of fabric and thread of all sorts, and start reading. Upon ending the first chapter, they look at each other, confused.
"It looks like it told everything you need to sew things." Daniel commented.
"Yes. I'm curious about all these buttons, and wheels, and accessories… what's the other chapters for?"
"Let's see… cross-stitching? Embroidery?"
"It can do that?" exclaimed Taylor with a smile so wide that it almost hurt. "I can do my own badges?"
"It… seems so." Daniel replies, turning the pages rapidly to get an inkling of the hardships to come. And paling, too, as it didn't seem any easier than the sewing. "But baby steps first, baby girl. Baby steps."
"Thank you, mom." Taylor says then, and for once, the two of them don't need to swallow a tear. They even exchange a small smile.
Tearing is involved with fabric, though, when Taylor finds one that has the same colour and texture as her Scout sash. Sewing, too, to fold the sides correctly and then to add the badges that she had already done. But that's not before she can train her ability with the machine enough so that she can do it flawlessly. And, like mother like daughter, she swears up a storm as the thread often jams. Her father doesn't complain, and, in fact, he smiles a bit, wistfully, when she does so.
And when she finally sews her first home-made badges, she ends up removing them the next day. Why? Because while she was training her sewing ability with the machine, her father has parsed the instruction manual, installed the required software (and clunky hardware, too, for absolutely no reason), and tried his hand with it. And he was able to explain in simpler terms how to do what she wanted to do.
Once again, she tries simple things on throwaway bits of fabric, first, before progressing up to needlepoint copies of pictures on the computer. Doggedness is the key, again, and she was finally able to redo her whole sash with the badges embroidered in it, instead of sewn. With access to internet pictures of each official badge, it was even easier.
At her next camp, the sash is dismissed by the others, of course: it simply doesn't conform to the normal Girl Scout uniform. Still, it helps establish credentials of a sort in order to take new badges. Most notably the Sewing and Embroidery ones – once she proves she can do either by hand.
With one less salary in the household, though, Taylor has left home with even less spending money than usual, and can't buy her badges back – to the hilarity of her bullies. That sours the whole experience, and she doesn't cry much when her father announces that he can't pay for her to go another year.
And then high school starts.Given their meagre means and unenviable location, Taylor has to go to Winslow High, and she suspects that she'll find all the other people in the same situation, or worse. Her mother's stories in head, she vows to help people but not to get over her head doing it.
She's surprised to find Emma, there. The last year seems to have been good for the redhead: professionally-made hairdo and makeup can already make ordinary people beautiful, but Emma was already pretty to begin with, so the result was completely out of phase with the ordinary people of Winslow. In addition, she has gained curves that make other girls in school green with envy – yes, even the Seniors.
On the other hand, people in Winslow aren't the brightest, so there happens to be people held back several years in her class. With the same curves. And boys who don't care who they hurt when they try to appease their baser instincts.
But Emma stays out of trouble on that front, and Taylor learns that it's thanks to some of her hangers-on. There were two of them, alternating depending on the classes they shared. One is a black girl with violent tendencies, the other a small and unassuming girl with black belts in several martial arts. After the first few days, no boy dares to approach them unless asked to, and many accepted without comment when offered, some of them dumping girlfriends doing so.
And that's when Taylor understands why Emma would choose to stay here instead of Immaculata or Arcadia: there, she would have competition for the top position. Here, she's the natural leader. Still, choosing facility like that went against her own work ethics: it was like cheating on a free test. Or stealing a free sample. It serves nothing and only lowers the one doing so.
Taylor soon forgets all about philosophy regarding Emma, though, because when she tries to confront her, the redhead flies into a rage… that doesn't end. Taylor thinks that she can withstand the onslaught, that it won't last, and that she'll emerge victorious, but Emma doesn't let on the vitriol.
And, seeing what's happening, the bullies from the Girl Scouts heaped their own barbs and kicks, adding insult to injury – yes, because some of those girls go to Winslow too.
Being pushed around for several months isn't conductive to a healthy learning environment, and Taylor's grades plummet. Her father worries, of course, but he can't do a thing since the bullies are smart enough not to be caught. And the few times they are, they have several angles to play, notably the one where Emma's dad is a rich lawyer.
Still, Taylor endures and persists… until she gets stuck in a locker full of unsanitary materials.
Convinced that she'll die, she panics, of course. But her Scouting days are not too far behind and she cycles through every skill she has ever learnt to escape her situation. Her sash, sewn inside her school vest, is quickly parsed with fingers that remember doing each and every badge present.
Holding breath? Check. Even if it was measured in a lake, she could hold her breath like a champ'. Besides, it was bad, but not worse from when she had to fill a camp's natural toilets to seal them, at the end of one of her camps.
Climbing? Check. And the skill can be adapted to hold herself in the higher part of her locker, her face near the vents, and her body away from the refuse.
Whistling, allowing for a shrill sound to travel far enough to be heard over the din (and bullies' laughter) around her? Check.
Morse code, allowing her to whistle SOS continually? Check.
Knowledge of people around her, including name and skills? Check – it wasn't because she didn't like social games that she eschewed the "Social" badges. Probability of a janitor being present within two floors at that time, with a veteran past as a Marines Commando? Quite high.
The man hears and understands the code, and hurries through the throng. If in the process he pushes down several stuck-up bullies, he doesn't seem to care. And when he wrenches the locker door open, everything crashes down around said bullies. The man, too, because those families are of the resentful and vindictive sort.
Still, when they return to school, they target Taylor again – you can teach old dogs new tricks, but it requires the dogs to be agreeable. The helpful janitor is gone (and recruited by Daniel's Union, because honest men care for each other in hardship), but Taylor's status in the eye of the administration has changed, now, and her reporting of her bullies' continuing campaign causes them some more strife. The two cliques got suspended a week.
They resolve to get her outside of the school, and plan accordingly. Each girl gets an older boy in the scheme, too, whether a big brother or a love interest. One had access to a van large enough for the whole group, while another knew how to drive. All in all, that granted the girls a free ride as well as muscles to do the deed – those like Emma clearly don't want to dirty themselves.
In the first stages of planning, they compete to see who gets the worst fate they can have visited on her, only to realize that none of them has ever killed or raped anyone, nor have they maimed, burned alive, or tortured anyone in any way. None of them wants to do the deed… but all of them agree that something had to be done nonetheless.
In the end, they decide that burying her alive would be the way to go. As psychological tortures go, it's quite damning already.
Ambushing Taylor on her way to the bus stop, in the morning, will allow them to have the whole day before people start to get antsy – they know that teachers don't call roll, at Winslow, and that several of them could establish alibis for the whole group. Besides, since the girls are suspended, they also have the whole day free.
Waiting for their target is the worst, and the boys rush at her as soon as she appears. She gets the first one with a lucky kick to the crotch, but they outnumber her and succeed in punching her clock out.
The group then enter a nearby van, which they drive out of town. Inside, she's laid down into a makeshift coffin, which is screwed shut.
And then they reach the plot that they have prepared the day before and unload the crate into the hole. The girls insist for something heavy to press onto the box, anxious for some reason that she could get away without it. The boys pull a heavy log and lower it into the cavity, before putting the loose earth back inside the hole. Some of them were quite clever, too, and set back the top layer of grass as it was before, roots included.
And then the girls decide that they all have to pee there, as a final insult, not realizing that, with how the boys packed the earth, their insult would slide to the sides of their would-be victim.
Taylor awakens a bit later. Groggy, she tries to sit up in the dark, only to find herself in a cage of wood that also smells of freshly turned earth – as well as urine, in a distant way. Her confusion leads to fear when she discovers the extent of the bullies' revenge. And, this time, her circling among her abilities doesn't help: she has no tools, and can perceive nothing of the outside world, meaning that nobody can hear her screams.
She hasn't triggered when her life's work (at that time) has been taken from her. She hasn't triggered when her idol has been taken from her. She hasn't triggered when her bullies tried to harm her. Now that she's quite certain to die soon… she triggers: her panic, mounting up to an all-encompassing fright, warbles across dimensions in her reach for help, and something answered. Something large, and alien, and knowledgeable. But something that doesn't know what a Girl Scout badge is. And, curious, it lends a bit of power to the person who called it, to see if she could give some insight.
Taylor's frantic fingers stop parsing her badges. They stop for two reasons: one, they're now luminous. At least in Taylor's eyes. And, second, they stop at the one with a hatchet, depicting Taylor's ability to hack at wood – or, at least, that was for cutting trees, but you get the idea. And then the badge loses its luminescence while a translucent saw materializes in Taylor's hand… and then morphs into a hatchet.
Her other hand continues parsing the icons, but not that haphazardly anymore: Taylor knows where each of them is, and, besides, they are glowing. Her questing fingers stop at the one depicting woodworking. Making things out of wood. Stools, chairs, tables. Not that refined, but sturdy enough to last for a whole camp. Same as the other, the icon's gleam transfers into something else: a hammer.
And then she hacks at the wood above her. Strangely enough, her hatchet is much more efficient than a regular tool its size, as it dig deeps each time, without requiring much starting speed. With her hammer, Taylor moves the broken pieces around so that they support the weight of the breaking coffin… and the wooden log above it. She almost smiles despite the realization that they really wanted her dead: give her wood, why don't they?
She continues digging up with her hatchet, until she's sitting up and reaching earth. Using her current tools, sometimes exchanging with a translucent shovel by activating her "digging" badge, she succeeds in gathering the wood around her into a vertical box, pushing the earth around until the box reached underneath the grass. From there, it's easy to get out.
In the lowering sun, she takes stock of herself. No book bag, probably stolen or forgotten where she was attacked. No wounds, thankfully, and clothes still there. Quite far from the town, too.
She still has the tools she used to escape, and pokes the corresponding badges to deactivate them. The instinctive use of her power works, and the tools disappear. Those badges don't get full luminescence like the others, though, and she suspects (and confirms) that she can't use them with the same efficiency until they have "rested" – she can manifest the hatchet again, only for the tool to feel mundanely heavy and unwieldy in her hand.
This done, and wanting to head home, she uses two other badges to speed things up: how to not get lost, first and foremost, which gives her a compass (with the arrow pointing to "home", conveniently); and how to run fast (which gives her some luminous overlay over her shoes).
And she's gone, like the wind. Or like in cartoons, leaving a cloud of dust with her shape while she pounds away, laughing in exhilaration.
Running like that makes hitchhiking redundant, because she can reach the speed of cars – perhaps not those going full tilt on the freeway, but still at a respectable clip. Her shoes and compass allow her to run straight and hidden in the woods for most of the way home.
And then she's there. She even got her satchel from the alley in which she had been ambushed.
"Taylor?" Daniel asks, hearing her enter the house. "You're late. Have you any idea how concerned I was- oof!"
That last was the sound of the man being hugged by his desperate daughter. "They wanted to kill me, dad!"
It takes a bit of time to get the story from Taylor. Despite her joy at having powers, especially with links to something she holds dear like the Girl Scout badges, her adrenaline high crashes down, taking her with it. And Daniel is quite distraught at hearing all this.
However, since the urgency has passed, the two of them decide to sleep it off and deal with things the next day. It involves telling him of her powers – she would never lie to him, nor omit something this important.
Taylor knows that Emma is back to school, where she's probably back to her usual haughty self, and Daniel knows that Alan will work for most of the day. Still, he can grab him during his midday pause, and eat with him. His "Taylor has disappeared" act makes Alan promise his help, and he collects that very evening.
"Someone contacted me." he told Alan, having driven to the Barnes' house. "It's out of town, and my pickup is… well…"
"No problem, Danny. I'll drive. A contact, you said?"
Daniel nods. He and Alan were friends with various individuals during their own college years, and some were rightly shifty. And while Alan climbed the social ladder, Daniel stayed near the bottom, and kept those contacts. He doesn't need to elaborate for Alan to know to stop prodding. "They also said that Emma ought to be there, because she knows things."
"Emma? Why would she…" A pause. "True, she's changed. But this?"
Daniel shrugs. "Your choice. If it means that we have to go to the police instead…"
Alan pales and complies, calling his daughter to the car. She fidgets when seeing Daniel there, but she does have a spine and walks inside without seeming to care. Having heard the call for her daughter, Zoe follows, and since she has nothing else to do, she enters the back seat after Emma.
They drive. Daniel takes a cell phone out and sends a text to get the directions, and then guides Alan. The phone is new, as he and Taylor realized that without her new powers, such an item could have been the difference between life and death. They still won't use them needlessly, and certainly not while driving. Even just doing this as a passenger, Daniel was reminiscing his wife and the causes of her death, and he was quite sad.
Emma starts to get anxious when she recognizes the woods the directions send the car to. "Dad, where are we going?"
"I don't know. Daniel has a lead as to where Taylor has disappeared. You don't know anything about that, sweetie?"
"No! Why would I? Let's head back home, I don't like these stupid woods."
"Five minutes." Daniel says, and his voice has a quality that she has never heard from him.
Alan has, though, and he almost wrecks the car when turning his head towards the one he suspects isn't his friend right now. "Danny?"
"Taylor has disappeared, Alan." Daniel says, his eyes burning. "Annette is dead. Taylor is all I have. I would do anything to get her back."
"Anything?" Zoe mutters behind him.
He shakes his head. "Don't worry. I'm not kidnapping you or anything. The… contact I have, they said Emma knew things. So she'll say her piece when we'll arrive… or at the police station."
"But… no! You can't!" Emma yells, sensing the trap closing around her. "Mom! Dad! He's mad!"
"Emma has nothing to do with Taylor's disappearance." Zoe states. "I'm sure she can say it herself, but you have pushed us in a very uncomfortable state of mind, right now, and-"
"Zoe." Alan interrupts. "We're here."
The car stops, and they watch as heavy duty projectors illuminate the very place Emma remembers. Burly men are currently digging quickly, and Daniel jumps out of the car quickly, taking place in the chain of people moving the earth around. Alan doesn't need to think long before joining, even if it means dirtying his suit and getting shortly out of breath. They remove the log of wood, too, before getting to the coffin.
In the car, Emma is hyperventilating, starting to speak and stopping every sentence before it can gather momentum. "She's not- I can't- They said- We're…"
She then tries to exit the car, clearly willing to escape on foot in a forest after dark. Zoe watches her, though, and latches on the seatbelt before Emma can disengage it. "If you have something to say, dearie, now would be the best."
"But… Mom! You'll-"
Whatever she wants to say is interrupted by the cheer outside: the coffin opened, a very alive Taylor stands out of it and hugs her father.
"How can she be alive?" Emma blurts out, only to shy away when Taylor waves cheerily at the car – but with the projectors behind her, the shadow cast on her face make her eyes much darker and ominous.
"What do you mean, Emma?" Zoe asks, her mind in turmoil. There could be only one reason for her daughter to utter this, and she doesn't want to acknowledge the consequences yet.
That's when Alan comes back to the car, all smiles. Smiles that devolve into a frown when he notices his wife's dismay and his daughter's guilty expression. "We found her." he says, looking at Emma. "But you knew she was there already, right?"
"No!" was the petulant answer, but Alan and Zoe had another girl, older, and already knew the ways guilty teenagers resolved things. "Why do you accuse me of anything?"
"You thought she was dead." Zoe reminded her, releasing the seatbelt.
This allows Emma to jump out of the car, as if she was possessed. "Well… yeah! Anyone could think that, with her getting out of a coffin."
"Still, you can't have done anything alone." Alan mused, looking around. "Who was with you?"
"Alan!" Zoe exclaimed, getting out of the car too. "It's a bit early to jump to conclusions! Let her say her piece."
"I don't know nothing! I'm not the one who led you here! Why don't you ask him?" Emma tries again, shifting blame onto Daniel.
Daniel's eyes speared through her, from where he was, helping his daughter standing. "You know Julia, the Girl Scout? Head of her clique of girls, like you are? Apparently, her brother got cold feet and confessed. He named all of you. You're not in juvenile prison, right now, only because I owe a great deal to Alan."
And it was mostly true: during the day, he and Taylor had gone to see Julia's parents. The brother was there, and he folded easily, seeing her alive. He didn't need to name people, either, only confirming those Taylor already knew and those she only guessed.
They didn't want them to go to prison, only to have them stop harassing her. It wasn't even sure that going to prison would stop them from retaliating further, later. Escalating. But if it was needed, they could all go there.
"I'll pull her out of Winslow." Alan tells the Hebert solemnly, breaking a heavy silence during which Emma didn't deny anything. "You'll never have to see her again."
"But… Dad!"
"Get in the car!" he bellows, using a tone of voice she has never heard from him. Neither does his wife, apparently, as she's quite pale when he looks at her. "Keep an eye on her, please?" he asks, in a normal voice. When she nods and follows her daughter, he turns to Daniel. "I'm sorry things got out of hand. I'm happy you're alive and well, Taylor. And that's for you, not for whatever consequences Emma would have had to face, if not… you understand?"
Taylor smiles shyly, still in her father's arms. "Thanks."
"Do you need a lift?"
Daniel snorts. "I'm not sure it's a good idea, right now. Don't worry: the boys will take us."
Alan nods, cautiously not looking too deep into Daniel's web of relationships with shady characters. He knows the man is honest, but his work has taught him that honesty and legality were often at odds.
When he drives away, Daniel thanks the "boys" – as in Kurt and Lacey, the Marine veteran he recruited after the locker incident, and a couple others.
"I won't do anything like that ever again." Kurt admits. "Even if I knew she was going out mere minutes later, burying my goddaughter almost broke my heart."
"I had to sell this to Emma." Taylor says, straightening up and losing the "recently rescued from death" attitude.
"And Alan." Daniel intervenes. "He's a honest man… or at least he tries. He'll send her away, as he said. Perhaps a boarding school? Perhaps he'll move away from the Bay, as Zoe asked often enough? Nearer Boston, to get closer to Anne's University? We'll see."
"Or we won't. As long as Emma doesn't come back, I'm happy not to know." Taylor replies, heading to her "grave". "I so wanted to scare them, to bring them back here, to make a cross with "Taylor was never there" on it, in little script, so that they'd have to walk nearer to read it… and I'd have made a thin layer of wood right under the grass, with a big hole underneath, to catch them." A sigh. "So many good ideas, for nothing."
"Not for nothing." Kurt says, arms folded and designating his wife with his chin.
"Sorry." Lacey says when she notices that everybody's looking at her… and her notepad in which she was writing furiously. "You said?"
"She writes fiction, remember? That was top material, here." Kurt smiles at the two.
"So… a big hole for them to fall into." Lacey finishes writing, walking to stand next to Taylor. "Anything else?"
"Oh, I don't know. A body at the bottom, for them to crash into?"
"That would be gory… excellent!"
Daniel and Kurt share a bemused look before taking the shovels again: there is a hole to fill back in.
And then talks happen.It's only a bit later when Lacey speaks about something not in relation with her hopefully soon-incoming online novel. "Have you heard about that new cape the PRT got and then lost?"
"No, what about it?" Taylor asks. While not a cape geek herself, she knows Lacey is, and has heard enough to go by – both from her and from the parahuman courses spread around everyone's formative years. And now that she is one, too, she realizes that she has to keep up-to-date in that area. And perhaps even create an account on that online forum she often hears about.
"It was a girl who they took out of prison so as to reform her, only she was so violent that she practically assaulted the PRT director when she was presented to them. I heard that she was back in prison, a high-security one, while the director was sent to the hospital."
"Hmmm… a violent girl, you say? You don't happen to have a name?"
"No, because it's not in the PRT's habit to discuss real names. But anyone can see the two arrest reports. I can look it up if you want."
"No need. I'll see her soon anyways. Or not, if it's really her."
Case in point, Taylor doesn't see any of her leading tormentors, once back in Winslow: Emma was gone; that violent girl who might be a parahuman, too; and Julia was sent to Immaculata, a bit farther from her home but still in a manageable distance.
Taylor is left alone, then. Some people understand that she did something to get rid of her bullies, and don't want to cross her because of that. And most of the others simply ignore whoever isn't in their own circle of friends (or enemies).
And on the rare case someone picks a fight with her, she activates a badge or two to deal with the situation in a manner befitting the situation. Most of the time, social skills are enough to defuse a volatile state of affairs.
The first few times she has to use violence herself, she's quite outclassed, so she searches the internet for information about badges for self-defence, as well as places where she could learn the basics
As one can't give oneself badges, she also searches for ways to get them in an official capacity. This is quite hard, because her sash is already out of the norm for most Girl Scout officials. Her story gets her a few sympathetic nods, but none that would allow her to continue with her current project.
Except one. And it was only sheer luck that lets her meet the older blonde in a thrift shop. "Hi! I'm Taylor! Nice to meet you!" she says, shaking the young woman's hand – she isn't so exuberant, nowadays, but she used her badges to get the best out of the encounter.
The other replies "Lisa." absently, in an automatic manner. And then she continues speaking (muttering, really, and too low for Taylor to perceive), her eyes glassing over while looking Taylor over. "Cape. Uses powers right now. Can choose powers. Can get new powers. Here because of the shirt I intended to steal, belonging to Girl Scout movement. Wants official permission for… more badges? More powers? Or, if at all possible, badges with a higher level, for more power? A Trump?"
"Are you alright?" Taylor asks.
"Am I alright? Yes!" Lisa replies, with a wide smile. "You want… what?" she almost lives up to her own cape nickname by blurting what Taylor wants, only to interrupt herself in order not to get on her bad side. She knows that the Enforcers are currently targeting her, and while her power is good, it isn't sufficient. Having a Trump to help would be much better, in the short run, the long run, and any sort of run in between.
"Are you a Girl Scout officer? Can you validate badges?"
"Why… I guess I am." Lisa says, validating her knowledge with the way Taylor looks at specific parts of the vest currently on her shoulders. "Let's take this somewhere else." she adds, depositing enough bills to pay for that while pulling Taylor by the hand. That wasn't her initial intention, but she figured that getting food will have to wait. And that Taylor would help.
"So…" Taylor starts when the two of them are sitting on a bench nearby. "You're Lisa… Stanton?" she asks, looking at the vest again. And, sure, the name "L. Stanton" is stitched on the garment.
Lisa nods slowly while Taylor smiles and turns her own vest around – her capability with sewing allows her to make reversible garments. Given how she has sewn her Girl Scout sash on the inside of her vest, this allowed her to transform into a proper Girl Scout in no time. "Taylor Hebert." she says, pointing at where her own "T. Hebert" was stitched.
"That's an impressive collection of badges, already." Lisa says, looking at said collection. "And professionally made, it looks like."
"The others don't recognize it." Taylor replies dejectedly. "They say that I have to buy each badge separately."
"That's nonsense." Lisa interjects. She has no real sense of Girl Scout mores, but she can compare what she wears with Taylor's garment. In both cases, the owner has loved their accomplishments and has chosen to do the work by hand. "I'd easily say that yours is better."
"You can grant badges, too?"
Lisa's power spikes again, making her wince. But once stabilized again, she agrees. Further research will be needed, both in what the badges are, and what they do. But that will be for later. "What badges are you working on, presently?"
"Self-defence, first." Taylor replies, sitting straighter now that she has that part done. "And then I'll see if I can have any of the Crafts."
"Tinker, too?" Lisa thinks. "It's too good to be true." Aloud, she voices something else… something more pressing. "Do you know how to craft food? I'm feeling quite hungry, right now."
"Of course, intrepid Troop Leader. Come on, I'll make it myself." Taylor answers, holding up the bag she's holding. In Lisa's expert opinion, there is nothing to eat, inside.
Two hours later, she pushes her plate away, filled to the gills with the kind of pasta she would rate as being good enough for a three-stars restaurant. "Why do you call me Troop Leader?" she asks.
"That's what you are." Taylor replies with a smile, pointing at the various stars and lapels on Lisa's vest.
"Alright, alright. You're good on recognition. Now, what is this one?" she asks, pointing at another. And then another.
That starts quite a lengthy interrogation, during which they relocate to the room where Taylor makes the badges themselves. She shows Lisa the computer, with the bookmarked pages listing the known badges… and the clear indication that Scout Leaders wanting to create new ones are completely free to do so.
And her initial assessment of Taylor's need for those badges as support for her powers was spot on: she can, and will, add little stars to a few badges to indicate a higher proficiency.
Such as running. And that's when the gangly girl stops, frowning.
"What is it?" Lisa asks.
"To gain a new badge, or to level one up, I have to demonstrate, right?"
"Yes, of course." She nods. She kind of expected it, and Taylor doesn't seem one to do things half-way.
"Well, I'd like a level in Running, but to demonstrate, I'll have to be fully honest. I'm… a cape."
After a couple seconds to simulate the appropriate shock, Lisa shakes her head. "It doesn't really matter. In fact, if you can use the badges as benchmarks, I expect that you'll be the first Girl Scout with dozens of stars around select badges."
"Yay! Thanks, Troop Leader."
"Stop that." Lisa complains good-naturedly. "I told you to call me Lisa."
"Yes, Troop Leader Lisa." she smiles.
"…says Taylor the House-Elf." retorts Lisa with a smile of her own.
"House-Elf? What's that?"
"No matter, it's some fiction I picked up from Earth Aleph. Now, are you ready to demonstrate your Running ability?"
"Yes! Just a second… Ready!"
"Go!" Lisa exclaims, and then she doesn't move anymore, her mouth keeping the "O" while Taylor speeds away. "Definitively a Mover, too." she mumbles while waiting for Taylor.
"I'm here." said Taylor said from behind her. "Sorry to startle you. We haven't established a course, so I just went to the Boardwalk and back."
"…and you only took a few seconds? Alright, missy, that's a gold star for you."
"Yay!"
"I'm thinking about not putting these stars on your official sash, though."
"Oh, don't worry, I don't have an official sash anymore: it has been stolen. That's why I made this myself…" she says, pointing at her vest. "And also why the other Troop Leaders don't want to recognize it. I'm glad you can."
"Me too." Lisa says, remembering the look the Enforcers were giving her before she met Taylor… and what her power had to say about that. "Believe me, I'm glad too."
"Ready for another badge?"
"Really? So soon? Don't you have to have your badges updated before asking for an upgrade?"
"Upgrades, yes, but for getting new ones, or upgrading several ones, we can do it in batches. Normally, I'd have a paper and you'd sign and stamp something on it, and then with that I buy the badge so that I can sew it. But I gather that we can do away with all the intermediate stuff, right?"
"Of course." Lisa replies. "Now, what was it you wanted to demonstrate?"
"Upgrades in digging and wood cutting. And then we'll get inside, if you agree, so that I can show you what I want for new badges. I'll train later for those, and the other increases I want, to show you so you can validate them."
"If I can suggest anything, it's the Crafts you spoke about. If there is a badge for food preparation, too, you can consider yourself as having it already. The meal was delicious."
"Really?"
"In fact, if you agree, we can look at the online badges together, and eat together this evening too."
"Alright, but I don't know what Dad will say. And what about your family?"
Lisa's expression turns sombre. "They're… not there. In fact, when you found me, I was kind of… lost."
"And the Girl Scouts? Surely they can help a fellow Leader?" Taylor asks, the charade still going strong in her mind.
It makes Lisa wince, internally, as she presses a few more buttons her power has uncovered. "Let's just say that there are bullies everywhere, and stop worrying about this, alright?"
"Oh. Oh! Of course, sorry I asked." A pause. "But… where do you sleep?"
"Taylor." Lisa starts, looking at her intently. "I'm homeless. Where do you think I sleep?"
That was enough to shake Taylor into decisive action, and she engulfs the slightly smaller (but still older) girl into a hug. "Not anymore, if I have something to say about that!"
Of course, Daniel has something to say, too. But seeing his daughter's crestfallen expression, just as she just started to get better, gets to him. "Of course, Lisa can sleep here." He ends up deciding. "But it is not a permanent decision!"
His exclamation is lost in the hug he gets from Taylor.
"Don't worry, Mr Hebert, I'm sure my stay will help you as much as it will help me."
"What do you mean?"
"She noticed me because I wear this Troop Leader vest, and I've already granted her wish to keep her own version of the Girl Scout sash, as well as add badges to it. You know about her badges, right?"
Of course he does, but that was rhetorical since Lisa herself has known that he knew since some time into knowing Taylor – the girl ought to get herself some training for a Liar badge, because, right now, she couldn't lie to save her life.
"We are working towards getting the various Craft badges!" Taylor exclaims joyfully. "Isn't it grand? As soon as I have them, I'll be able to repair anything and everything! That front step, the garage window, perhaps even the car?"
"You can do that?" he asks.
"With the proper badge, yes." she answers, turning to get a nod from Lisa – they have browsed the official rules and regulations, and it was true that any Troop Leader could grant any kind of badge to the Scouts under them. Even if it was generally done in relation to events, not skills. "And as soon as we start doing this, we'll expand to the neighbours, and perhaps open some repair shop for Lisa to keep, and where I could work after class? That way, we'll participate in the house funds."
"Taylor…" he sighs. He wants to say he's the one responsible for that, for everything, but the truth is that his job isn't well-paying, and without his late wife's salary, life hasn't been easy. Especially when neither of them cooked and they had to by meals from outside. With the quite palatable repast he's eating right now, however, things have already started to change. "Alright."
"And then you- What?"
"I said "alright", alright?" he asks with a grin.
The two of them share a hug, while Lisa looks on wistfully, thinking about her own dysfunctional family, and the numerous lies she has fed the Heberts… and how she could come clean about that. Still, her "tattletale" power was kept in a tight leash all evening, because she could see that Taylor had the encounter in hand. And then said girl opens an arm and pulls her into the hug, and she wonders how being accepted can feel that good.
And then job opportunities arise.That's only a few days later that Taylor and Lisa get an idea about how exactly they could start their repairing job: as a roaming entity. After all, with something broken, people have to unplug everything and then bring the item to the shop or the kind of repairing outlet they thought about. If the item is heavy, or unwieldy, or if it's their car… it's more difficult, and expensive, to do so.
If they are on call, with reduced rates because they're beginners (and quite young, and also with their Scout paraphernalia), and will only be paid if the thing works afterwards… they get a few calls. Then many.
As said, the neighbours started the trend, for free, so that they could establish a reputation and credentials. And then they practise reduced rate for a few weeks, while Taylor improves her various Craft badges.
At the beginning, Lisa drives Daniel's pickup (that Taylor has repaired, and even improved so that it would use less fuel) but they soon have enough to buy a wreck of an old van… and repair it too. Such a vehicle's a convenient excuse for Taylor to come and go with different tools or parts (that she can craft in the privacy of the van's interior), justifying that she always seems to have the "missing" pieces or something.
Of course, Lisa gets a cell phone too, to act as secretary to book slots for Taylor. And the fact that she gets to hear the people at the other side is often enough for her to deem the need as real or not, avoiding such calls that would entrap two young working girls.
It's not enough to completely avoid trouble, of course.
Once, a distraught woman calls about a broken dishwasher that's currently flooding her kitchen, in a wooden house – a recipe for disaster if kept going. Since it's right in Taylor's "working" period, they both go there with the van, only to find the woman's husband hovering behind them as they entered.
Nothing untoward happens, thankfully, but the man frowns all along. First, it's to complain to his wife about not calling him, or not waiting for him to get off work. And then, he frowns at Taylor despite Lisa playing the secretarial interference, as usual, pulling forms and chatting away to keep his attention.
Still, once the machine is repaired, and the floor cleaned (Taylor already had the Sweeping badge, a long time ago), Lisa pulls her friend out as soon as they're paid – and she doesn't asks much, either.
"That was Victor." she says as soon as the van has left the neighbourhood.
"Victor? Who's that?"
"An Empire cape. The woman didn't show it, but she's blind from an eye. She's Othala."
"The Empire? The… gang?"
"Yes." Lisa nods. "And I'll have to pay quite some attention to who needs our services, now."
"Why?"
"Victor is a skill thief. I have no doubt that he didn't like having strangers in his home, and that he clearly intended to steal your skills in order to do the repairs himself, next time."
"I… didn't feel anything."
Lisa smiles, looking at her – they're at a red light, so it's no bother. "That's because your skills come from your power. I wondered, for a while, but you can't do the things you do if you don't have your badges, right?"
"Yes. And that could be troublesome, if they get stolen again."
"We'll find a way." A pause. "How do you feel about tattoos?"
"WHAT?"
"Not big, visible ones, no. And we should train your obfuscation and misdirection first. That would also have the benefit of preventing others from noticing your sash." A pause. "And we'll have to train self-defence and combat, too. And craft other things."
"Yes! Things!" Taylor laughs.
Lisa joins, but looks towards the front – the light has gone green, and the traffic is dense, what with the people going home from work. "Things, yes. Armours, weapons… we are capes, now. We might find ourselves in some cape fight, and need to survive them long enough to escape."
Taylor pales, but she quickly finds some stability in continuing a line of thought involving her doing things with her badges… and getting new ones. "Alarms for the house, too, if they go there. Solid walls. Better carpentry. Defensive measures, too. Robots?"
Lisa nods. "If we can go that far, why not? You can already craft complex tools and basic electronics. Be sure to give them Aasimov's Laws, right?"
Taylor, who knows the Science-Fiction author thanks to her mother, smiles. "Of course, of course." She says, before becoming pensive.
Once home, she turns towards Lisa. "You know, we're imagining badges further and further away from normal Girl Scout training, right?"
"Yes. I hope we can do everything you want, but we might hit a wall, at some time. Still, if I can grant it, you can have it, so feel free to ask. Teleportation? Space Travel?"
Taylor was going to respond, but she stays with her mouth open, thinking of the possibilities. After a second, she closes her mouth and shakes her head. "Make a note for later. I was just thinking about "internal" skills."
"Such as?"
"I have Run, and Hold Breath. I have Self-Defence. Do you think I could have Endurance, too? To be upgraded into Resilience, Resistance, and then get some survival-related Brute rating?"
Lisa reflects about it for a second, before nodding. "Why not. But remember that when you keep your powers for too long, you get headaches."
Taylor shrugs. "That's because when it happened, I was keeping several of them and wasn't using them. That's why if I can have a badge for a skill that's internal, I will always use it, and therefore not have headaches."
"We should test that, before committing." Lisa pronounces, looking at Taylor intently. "It wouldn't do for you to find yourself in a fight and unable to do anything because of a killer headache."
Taylor nods. They will. And, of course, after resilience, she will try for Brute Strength. And maybe flight? Alexandria has always been her model hero.
Of course, that would mean a costume, too. But she has time to think about such frivolities.
At least, that's what she thinks.
And then real life interrupts with sirens.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
To be continued… as required by scout law